4:45Am
Sunday.
Time to rise.
After about 30minutes of sleeping its time to embark on a handicap accessible vacation. The day was early, the air was crisp, and a sense of anticipation hung there like hangers in closet waiting to be torn off in a hurry as we left for the airport. I was a little nervous about heading to a busy airport with my disability but I was definitley to tired to notice as I crutched around like a drunk. So far, so good, everything was working out okay as we checked out bags and headed to the security check point. Maybe everything would be alright, maybe this trip was going to work out okay..... yea, maybe.
My "condition"
"Sir because you have a condition you can board first when you get to the gate."
Excuse me?
My condition?
Who the f*ck are you and what the f*ck is my condition?
This was news to me. I wasn't aware a broken fibula was considered by airport staff to be a "condition." Whatever, I laugh at the term. No big deal, I'll let this slide, the day is early and I got plenty more important things to go take care of. Maybe one day I'll forgive him and he can earn my respect but right now I'll just chuckle to myself, with my condition.
"Please step aside and come with me sir"
Onto airport security. Surely they would be nicer then some bum at the baggage check-in. I couldn't be more wrong. Not only did they demand I put my crutches up for x-rays but as soon as I limp through the metal detector I am informed by airport security that I had been randomly selected for additional screening.
Random my ass.
I now know the pain and humilation felt by so many people of the Arabic culture and Islamic religion. To all the repressed peoples of the world, I know what its like to be discriminated against. There wasn't anything random about my selection. I am a pretty frequent traveler and it just so happens that the one time I wear a protective boot over my leg aid in healing my broken fibula I am 'randomly' selected to be additionaly screened. Yea, f*ck you gov't.
Red cheeks and humiliation aside I am brought into a little booth and forced to sit down. After receiving a myriad of complicated, vague, and very inappropriate directions from the officers I manage to pull myself together and limp away towards the gate with the little diginity I have remaining.
11:30am
Land, shuttle, hotel, depart for Busch Gardens. After a whirlwind of activity and being pierced with the daggers of people whom have never seen a temporary handicap person I find myself deep in conversation with our shuttle driver.
Of course the topic of conversation is broken bones. Coincidence? What do you think. Although a bit outspoken, he made for a pleasant chat on the way. Anyway, I could go on all day about the shuttle trips and the drivers but I don't want to get into that right now.
Upon arriving at Busch Gardens I am super excited to head to the stroller, scooter, and wheel chair rental facility which is conveintly located at the entrance of the park. The people there are friendly and I receive my very first wheel chair that I can actually call my own (it comes with a name tag that I can hang from the top). Off to the first ride.
I was given a letter that comes with a set of directions for handicap guests at the park and after reading them I was confused and a little worried that it wouldn't be nearly as awesome as I once had anticipated. Arriving at the first ride things begin to change as I step up into this sweet ass world of VIP treatment at amusement parks. Riding right up the exit ramp I am greeted by the ride operator and instructed that my party and I will be taking off on the next available seat and finally.. finally I begin to see the light. This light, would only be getting brighter. After pulling in from a thrilling ride on the first coaster of the day I ask if I can ride again. The guy responds by telling me I need to get off and walk around. I think he means get off for a second and come back on. However, as soon as he sees my 'condition' he immediately apologizes, "I thought you were just some random dude, my bad sir." I tell him no worries while he shakes my hand and I accept his apology. No worries indeed. The rest of the day I received much the same treatment from employees of the park. They even seem to be friendly and eager to talk to a handsome young stud in a wheel chair. One of them managed to steal my heart after some chat while I waited in probably the only line I had to wait in the whole time at the park. Pixie was her first name and her last name, which I will not share, made me wonder if she worked as a stripper or at the very least was in some way affiliated with the adult entertainment industry (her body really made me wonder as well), but enough about her. She was one of the many nice employees who took care of the special needs people at the park and I thank her for that. I will forgive her for using my leg to start a conversation with me, I only hope that she is secure enough in herself to have started talking to me without such an easy opener. Unfortunately I did not have enough cash on hand to rent Busch Garden to myself for the day and this meant that the park was open to the general public.
Sure the patrons of the park weren't too happy or polite when it came to handling my 'condition.' But f*ck them, they don't have a broken fibula. I shouldn't be too hard on the other patrons, its not their fault. I can understand why they stared at me. Its tough for little kids, parents, girlfriends, tourists, locals, etc, its tough for them to see a handsome, healthy, and well built man confined to a wheel chair. They seem to need to figure out why someone of my nature is trapped, I watch their eyes scan my body and then after a brief eye f*ck- if she's a confident gal, they noticed the boot on my leg and immediatley seem to relax as they have their answer. This beautiful man (me) won't be stuck like that forever, thank god.
Conclusion
I certainly had my thrills of adventure and interaction at the park that day. And because of the length of this story and the numerous detials and little adventure that ensued I will not go into detail. This is simply memoirs of a temporary handicap, not a minute by minute account of JR's life. I do, like all Americans, have my rights to privacy and I am choosing to exercise mine at this point in time. I apologize for leaving you on edge with the events of the night time, especially after such an exhilirating day.
The special vacation was very special indeed. It was a lot of fun and I could probably write two 300 page novels on everything that happened. Traveling as a temporary handicap, as with everything in life we do, was not easy but I, like we all do, managed to press on and face the world with one healthy fibula as if I had two.
So go out and life your life (ay ay ay) with two good legs (or with one for my fellow handicap readers) and remember as, Henry David Thoreau said, "we should come home from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day with new experience and character," I know I certainly have, and I hope you will too.
- JR
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Day 24 - My @ss hurts... no homo
Sometimes we do things at night that we know maybe we shouldn't or that we realize will only be setting us up for an awkward morning. Sometimes you think find true love. Only you catch the early part of the red dragon's tip in your behind when a couple of your friends jump out of the apartment, blind folded ready to double team the dragon when he suddenly takes off and knocks you down quicker than you can say, 'lets get some dinner first.'
So then you wake up in the morning and those empty promise you made to yourself the night before wear off, one too many of that devil's candy made the situation seem promising last night. Last night, yea last night, ha, it all seemed like a good idea last night. Now that I wake this morning, my @ss hurts, and the realty sets in.
I got drilled in the butt by the red dragon and now it hurts.
Sure we were just a bunch of guys goofing around last night, yea we had a few beers, but it was all in good fun. Once someone through out the idea we all just laughed at it. But then we all realized that this could really work and something cool was about to happen. No one could have seen it going this far but like I said we were just young and stupid. But that's what college is right? The time to be young and stupid and experiment.
I guess it all started when we began talking about the movie Stripes and how we all liked the girl nudie parts, strictly the girl parts. Well something became apparent during this discussion, and that was, it was time to leave and actually do what we all intended to do on this night.
In order for all of us to be satisfied and get what we wanted from each other we had to do a little planning as to not get caught. And that is where it all went south, wrong.
Sure I was the guinea pig to go first and see what it would feel like but we only had to fool one person before the whole gang banged their way down the stairs and in the back door. It was child's play, simple, easy, we would no longer be a bunch of men locked in the closet of no adventure, we were going to come out and execute this exciting plan.
So it commenced. At first everything was going smoother and slicker than using a 16oz bottle of KY for one session. We didn't know that he only came for one of us. We couldn't have seen this coming (pun intended). As soon as I opened the back door and started to put my crutch in the rest of the gang couldn't control themselves upon seeing this crutch enter the back door and they all raced to the finish line so they too could come in the back door. Apparently we had a first timer who didn't like this and simply wasn't ready to let eight guys in the back door with me in the front. So he jerked away a little too hard an too fast.
This was bad news, especially for me, a temporary disabled. Bang. The back door of the car hits me in the butt and I fall. If only our friend would have waited for me to open the back car door and climb in the front door so he could give us all a car ride in the van that we call the red dragon back to my house to watch some rugby then none of this shenanigans would have happened.
However the bruise from the impact of the metal sliding car door is ok, I may have exaggerated for the purposes of entertainment, but don't worry Coach JR will land on his feet as always.
Remember, "the hardest thing about roller blading is having to tell your parents that you are gay," good luck.
So then you wake up in the morning and those empty promise you made to yourself the night before wear off, one too many of that devil's candy made the situation seem promising last night. Last night, yea last night, ha, it all seemed like a good idea last night. Now that I wake this morning, my @ss hurts, and the realty sets in.
I got drilled in the butt by the red dragon and now it hurts.
Sure we were just a bunch of guys goofing around last night, yea we had a few beers, but it was all in good fun. Once someone through out the idea we all just laughed at it. But then we all realized that this could really work and something cool was about to happen. No one could have seen it going this far but like I said we were just young and stupid. But that's what college is right? The time to be young and stupid and experiment.
I guess it all started when we began talking about the movie Stripes and how we all liked the girl nudie parts, strictly the girl parts. Well something became apparent during this discussion, and that was, it was time to leave and actually do what we all intended to do on this night.
In order for all of us to be satisfied and get what we wanted from each other we had to do a little planning as to not get caught. And that is where it all went south, wrong.
Sure I was the guinea pig to go first and see what it would feel like but we only had to fool one person before the whole gang banged their way down the stairs and in the back door. It was child's play, simple, easy, we would no longer be a bunch of men locked in the closet of no adventure, we were going to come out and execute this exciting plan.
So it commenced. At first everything was going smoother and slicker than using a 16oz bottle of KY for one session. We didn't know that he only came for one of us. We couldn't have seen this coming (pun intended). As soon as I opened the back door and started to put my crutch in the rest of the gang couldn't control themselves upon seeing this crutch enter the back door and they all raced to the finish line so they too could come in the back door. Apparently we had a first timer who didn't like this and simply wasn't ready to let eight guys in the back door with me in the front. So he jerked away a little too hard an too fast.
This was bad news, especially for me, a temporary disabled. Bang. The back door of the car hits me in the butt and I fall. If only our friend would have waited for me to open the back car door and climb in the front door so he could give us all a car ride in the van that we call the red dragon back to my house to watch some rugby then none of this shenanigans would have happened.
However the bruise from the impact of the metal sliding car door is ok, I may have exaggerated for the purposes of entertainment, but don't worry Coach JR will land on his feet as always.
Remember, "the hardest thing about roller blading is having to tell your parents that you are gay," good luck.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Day 22 - F*ck Crutches
This sucks. My calf in my right leg is as soft as a prepubescent overweight teenage boy's left tit who is actually borderline obese because he spend too much time inside on his rear end playing video games with his right hand or watching mini-star trek marathons all day with his right hand as well.
I am soo over crutches and being handicap and getting sympathy cat and having people hold doors for me and bring me my food and not being able to work out my beautiful legs (thank you lady on the train this summer, that compliment really meant a lot).
Let's see what Doctor d*ck head says tomorrow.
I am soo over crutches and being handicap and getting sympathy cat and having people hold doors for me and bring me my food and not being able to work out my beautiful legs (thank you lady on the train this summer, that compliment really meant a lot).
Let's see what Doctor d*ck head says tomorrow.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Day 18 - Will Someone Please Tell...
(rants from a temporary handicap - at my temporarily slowed pace, I've noticed a few things)
Will someone please tell..
Comedy Central that no one wants to see Larry the Cable Guy Roasted?
-- that Carlos Mencia is not funny?
-- that Mad TV really needs to be taken off the air?
Ultimate Frisbee players that no one gives a shit about their sport?
-- that no one cares you are throwing a frisbee around in the quad while everyone is trying to walk to class and that you are so skilled enough you never hit anyone?
Self-conscious girls that is called being polite when you hold a door open for someone with crutches? So take a second and don't act like you didn't see me.
Quiznos that it doesn't take 45minutes to deliver everything.
My scuba instructor that I didn't break my leg on purpose to sabotage the Spring Break trip.
My teachers (except for one) that it would be nice if you could collect my test for me so I don't have to crutch all the way down the stairs to hand you my f*cking paper and then crutch all the way back the f*ck up, when you could've just grabbed it from me and saved everyone else in the room a 5 minute distraction. And then you have the balls to wonder why the last few questions were all wrong.
Fake concerned people who ask what happened to me a week or two later that I broke my fibula. Yes it is the little bone, yes I can bear weight soon, no you are not an expert on broken bones and any advice you give me will be taken with a grain of sh*t. Yes it does suck, thank you for your kind words. Yes my Spring Break plans got re-arranged. Yes, I know. It comes off in 8 weeks, now leave me alone unless you have another reason to talk to me.
Shy girls who have crush on me and needed a way to start the conversation with me, that your welcome. Only you can ask what happened to my leg. And to that girl with the really cute laugh that almost makes me want to chuckle when I hear it from across class every day, I'm glad you took advantage of the situation, see you Monday.
Everyone else, I love you. Keep being you because so far you haven't done anything to piss me off.
PS - To everyone who will be showing up to my dear friends birthday this weekend at my house, don't touch the f*cking stereo- no one cares about what you want to hear, you are not a f*cking DJ, and it is just plain rude. Also it will not be funny to anyone (especially the three handicap people in attendance) if you rearrange the handicap seating or sit in our handicap area, so don't do that. Have some f*cking respect and act like a half-way decent human being and maybe the opposite sex will find you somewhat attractive (guys I am sorry, I will be there though, good luck).
Remember, as they say in Albania, "every guest hates the others, and the host hates them all."
Coach JR, Out.
Will someone please tell..
Comedy Central that no one wants to see Larry the Cable Guy Roasted?
-- that Carlos Mencia is not funny?
-- that Mad TV really needs to be taken off the air?
Ultimate Frisbee players that no one gives a shit about their sport?
-- that no one cares you are throwing a frisbee around in the quad while everyone is trying to walk to class and that you are so skilled enough you never hit anyone?
Self-conscious girls that is called being polite when you hold a door open for someone with crutches? So take a second and don't act like you didn't see me.
Quiznos that it doesn't take 45minutes to deliver everything.
My scuba instructor that I didn't break my leg on purpose to sabotage the Spring Break trip.
My teachers (except for one) that it would be nice if you could collect my test for me so I don't have to crutch all the way down the stairs to hand you my f*cking paper and then crutch all the way back the f*ck up, when you could've just grabbed it from me and saved everyone else in the room a 5 minute distraction. And then you have the balls to wonder why the last few questions were all wrong.
Fake concerned people who ask what happened to me a week or two later that I broke my fibula. Yes it is the little bone, yes I can bear weight soon, no you are not an expert on broken bones and any advice you give me will be taken with a grain of sh*t. Yes it does suck, thank you for your kind words. Yes my Spring Break plans got re-arranged. Yes, I know. It comes off in 8 weeks, now leave me alone unless you have another reason to talk to me.
Shy girls who have crush on me and needed a way to start the conversation with me, that your welcome. Only you can ask what happened to my leg. And to that girl with the really cute laugh that almost makes me want to chuckle when I hear it from across class every day, I'm glad you took advantage of the situation, see you Monday.
Everyone else, I love you. Keep being you because so far you haven't done anything to piss me off.
PS - To everyone who will be showing up to my dear friends birthday this weekend at my house, don't touch the f*cking stereo- no one cares about what you want to hear, you are not a f*cking DJ, and it is just plain rude. Also it will not be funny to anyone (especially the three handicap people in attendance) if you rearrange the handicap seating or sit in our handicap area, so don't do that. Have some f*cking respect and act like a half-way decent human being and maybe the opposite sex will find you somewhat attractive (guys I am sorry, I will be there though, good luck).
Remember, as they say in Albania, "every guest hates the others, and the host hates them all."
Coach JR, Out.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Day 14 - I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends
Two weeks have gone by. This is the start of week three. Wow.
After all I have personally been through these past few days, and believe me its been a roller coaster ride, I still have much to be thankful for.
Yes, getting across the quad with one good leg in 15 minutes is extremely taxing on the upper body and doing this with people staring, judging, can be incredibly taxing for someone of weaker personal beliefs and confidence.
Yes, going up and down stairs is quite the show for even the most indifferent passerby, but yes I have managed to gracefully transgress every step in my way with a simplicity and ease that speaks volumes to an onlooker and makes them recall a time they saw a true guru be at home in their respective field.
Yes, getting my meals at dining facilities is a two, sometimes even three person job and I am only talking about the getting the food part. The whole getting to, getting inside, waiting in line, and eating (god forbid I forget my fork at festival when I sit down with my Tweed Farms) is a whole nother task that also requires a great deal of effort and makes me almost want to not eat at all (but to those that help you are all welcome for the special access parking that I provide).
Yes, waking up in the middle of the night to go urinate is not as glamorous as it once was. Yes, dealing with hangovers in the morning is a lot tougher with limited mobility. Yes, the opposite sex still does hit on me and sequentially attempt to close which I must say I am often not in the mood for after long days of walk- I mean crutching.
But negativity and complaints and ranting aside, after these past two weeks, and this past weekend especially, I have really began to learn about myself and began to truly accept myself for what I am these next 6-8 weeks. I am a temporary handicap, and I am damn proud of who I am.
I am not quite sure what caused this learning and appreciation of thy self to take place, but I guess it has something to do with the love and acceptance that rains down upon me by my peers and teachers when I attend class or by my friends and potential suitors when I arrive at a party.
Today when eating at lakeside (which I am sad to say has no handicap access- yes I man'd up and crutched up and down those stairs), my food preparation specialist decided to walk my sandwich out to me instead of calling my number and having me crutch over and pick it up, that was sweet of him.
This weekend a sweetheart with beautiful hazel eyes, brown hair, and a smile that could pierce the skin of a rhino from up to a 100 yards away, fell for my crutches (or maybe it was my incredible charm and ambition combined with my high level of optimism and eddie murphy laugh), and suggested that we lock ourselves away for the next three days to do nothing but make love and order take out.
Unfortunately I had to decline.
Being a temporary handicap, its important to watch what we eat given our limited mobility, although in hindsight it would've balanced out with a different activity but oh well, she was good for fueling my ego and filling my cup, I thank you for that darling, call me this weekend.
Yes, life may seem good to you two legged people, but thats only what you see. You don't see the day to day struggle we go through. The baths instead of showers. The sleeping with one leg elevated. The emptiness of not having every bone full and whole. Its tough. And I regretfuly need to say that a few of my friends have ended up joining me and departing on their own journey as temporary handicaps.
First there was Col. Trautman. A devastating injury that makes my broken fibula look like a mosquito bite on the inside of a fat kids thigh. He too was injured on the battlefield. Being the ranking officer and having much more couch time than I do, there is something to gain from him. This weekend I had the good fortune to learn a few ways to bedazzle my crutches as well as make them more handi-capable. Yes, frosted gold tips and a cup holder made of duct tape may soon be in JR's future but I will wait and see what else this clever bastard has up his sleeve. God speed in your recovery Colonel.
Then, most recently, there was Mousa (my good Pakistani friend from Rambo III). His was a tragic accident caused by that jackass Murdoch who left me to die in Rambo II (also left me at the hospital waiting for a damn ride). It seems Murdoch really is an a**hole, but thats a different story. After causing harm and breaking Mousa's fibula while out at a celebration he seems to think a few purple hearts and some McDonalds will take the pain away. Mousa, Trautman, and I know this is a bunch of political bullsh*t. Hey Murdoch, what don't you try giving him the 6-8 weeks of this life back. Mousa was a trooper though and managed to radio some friendlies to get him out of the hot zone. I wish you the best and look forward to seeing you living your life (ay ay ay), one crutch at a time with us by your side.
So to Trautman and Mousa, I know its tough and we shall overcome (as we do everytime). I want to leave you newly handicapped with this; when I was aiming my arrow (no pun there) at Lewis' eye (no pun there either) in my 4th movie, I was really giving him advice about being temporarily handicap, so rembember this:
"There isn't one of us that doesn't want to be someplace else. But this is what we do, this is who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something. It's your call."
- John Rambo
After all I have personally been through these past few days, and believe me its been a roller coaster ride, I still have much to be thankful for.
Yes, getting across the quad with one good leg in 15 minutes is extremely taxing on the upper body and doing this with people staring, judging, can be incredibly taxing for someone of weaker personal beliefs and confidence.
Yes, going up and down stairs is quite the show for even the most indifferent passerby, but yes I have managed to gracefully transgress every step in my way with a simplicity and ease that speaks volumes to an onlooker and makes them recall a time they saw a true guru be at home in their respective field.
Yes, getting my meals at dining facilities is a two, sometimes even three person job and I am only talking about the getting the food part. The whole getting to, getting inside, waiting in line, and eating (god forbid I forget my fork at festival when I sit down with my Tweed Farms) is a whole nother task that also requires a great deal of effort and makes me almost want to not eat at all (but to those that help you are all welcome for the special access parking that I provide).
Yes, waking up in the middle of the night to go urinate is not as glamorous as it once was. Yes, dealing with hangovers in the morning is a lot tougher with limited mobility. Yes, the opposite sex still does hit on me and sequentially attempt to close which I must say I am often not in the mood for after long days of walk- I mean crutching.
But negativity and complaints and ranting aside, after these past two weeks, and this past weekend especially, I have really began to learn about myself and began to truly accept myself for what I am these next 6-8 weeks. I am a temporary handicap, and I am damn proud of who I am.
I am not quite sure what caused this learning and appreciation of thy self to take place, but I guess it has something to do with the love and acceptance that rains down upon me by my peers and teachers when I attend class or by my friends and potential suitors when I arrive at a party.
Today when eating at lakeside (which I am sad to say has no handicap access- yes I man'd up and crutched up and down those stairs), my food preparation specialist decided to walk my sandwich out to me instead of calling my number and having me crutch over and pick it up, that was sweet of him.
This weekend a sweetheart with beautiful hazel eyes, brown hair, and a smile that could pierce the skin of a rhino from up to a 100 yards away, fell for my crutches (or maybe it was my incredible charm and ambition combined with my high level of optimism and eddie murphy laugh), and suggested that we lock ourselves away for the next three days to do nothing but make love and order take out.
Unfortunately I had to decline.
Being a temporary handicap, its important to watch what we eat given our limited mobility, although in hindsight it would've balanced out with a different activity but oh well, she was good for fueling my ego and filling my cup, I thank you for that darling, call me this weekend.
Yes, life may seem good to you two legged people, but thats only what you see. You don't see the day to day struggle we go through. The baths instead of showers. The sleeping with one leg elevated. The emptiness of not having every bone full and whole. Its tough. And I regretfuly need to say that a few of my friends have ended up joining me and departing on their own journey as temporary handicaps.
First there was Col. Trautman. A devastating injury that makes my broken fibula look like a mosquito bite on the inside of a fat kids thigh. He too was injured on the battlefield. Being the ranking officer and having much more couch time than I do, there is something to gain from him. This weekend I had the good fortune to learn a few ways to bedazzle my crutches as well as make them more handi-capable. Yes, frosted gold tips and a cup holder made of duct tape may soon be in JR's future but I will wait and see what else this clever bastard has up his sleeve. God speed in your recovery Colonel.
Then, most recently, there was Mousa (my good Pakistani friend from Rambo III). His was a tragic accident caused by that jackass Murdoch who left me to die in Rambo II (also left me at the hospital waiting for a damn ride). It seems Murdoch really is an a**hole, but thats a different story. After causing harm and breaking Mousa's fibula while out at a celebration he seems to think a few purple hearts and some McDonalds will take the pain away. Mousa, Trautman, and I know this is a bunch of political bullsh*t. Hey Murdoch, what don't you try giving him the 6-8 weeks of this life back. Mousa was a trooper though and managed to radio some friendlies to get him out of the hot zone. I wish you the best and look forward to seeing you living your life (ay ay ay), one crutch at a time with us by your side.
So to Trautman and Mousa, I know its tough and we shall overcome (as we do everytime). I want to leave you newly handicapped with this; when I was aiming my arrow (no pun there) at Lewis' eye (no pun there either) in my 4th movie, I was really giving him advice about being temporarily handicap, so rembember this:
"There isn't one of us that doesn't want to be someplace else. But this is what we do, this is who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something. It's your call."
- John Rambo
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Day 9 - Superfreak
"Unbelievable!"
"You're a mutant!"
"Are you the Wolverine?!"
"I've never seen such recovery!"
"Can we use you in clinical studies?"
"I think you're blood cells may cure cancer!"
These were some of the things I heard today as I went back to my doctor's office. This visit was a lot nicer than last weeks, and left me feeling a lot better. My recovery is coming along great. I look forward to being showered in compliments again at next weeks appointment.
Apparently, sometime between this weekend and last Wednesday, I had accidentally found the magical potion to heal bones:
- lots of milk
- Vitamin C
- extra vicodin
- moon shine
- Market One sandwiches
- Joose
- skipping class
- speed dating
- weed
- watching girls play volleyball
- exercise
- sushi
- Natural Light spiked with gin
- oovoo
- lap dances
- singing rugby songs
- dip or chewing tobacco
- playing the harmonica
- free dave's steak & cheese
- a threesome (with two girls)
- accidentally witness a barbershop quartet
- more weed
- a nerf dart gun
- a plastic rose in your boot
and of course
- love and support from my family and friends
DISCLAIMER NOTE: Currently I have a few independent researchers working on my case, so these findings are not official and must be used with the understanding that the author of this blog will assume no liability for taking my advice. All tips given above must be approved by a certified medical practitioner and in no way what so ever am I to be responsible for your actions. When these results are confirmed in the lab, I will post back here and let you know, but until then don't try to be like coach JR, because:
"I'm Coach JR, yes I'm the real Coach JR
All you other Coach JR's are just imitating
So won't the real Coach JR please stand up,
please stand up, please stand up?"
Unfortunately I can only stand up right now with the help of my crutches, but you get the point.
"You're a mutant!"
"Are you the Wolverine?!"
"I've never seen such recovery!"
"Can we use you in clinical studies?"
"I think you're blood cells may cure cancer!"
These were some of the things I heard today as I went back to my doctor's office. This visit was a lot nicer than last weeks, and left me feeling a lot better. My recovery is coming along great. I look forward to being showered in compliments again at next weeks appointment.
Apparently, sometime between this weekend and last Wednesday, I had accidentally found the magical potion to heal bones:
- lots of milk
- Vitamin C
- extra vicodin
- moon shine
- Market One sandwiches
- Joose
- skipping class
- speed dating
- weed
- watching girls play volleyball
- exercise
- sushi
- Natural Light spiked with gin
- oovoo
- lap dances
- singing rugby songs
- dip or chewing tobacco
- playing the harmonica
- free dave's steak & cheese
- a threesome (with two girls)
- accidentally witness a barbershop quartet
- more weed
- a nerf dart gun
- a plastic rose in your boot
and of course
- love and support from my family and friends
DISCLAIMER NOTE: Currently I have a few independent researchers working on my case, so these findings are not official and must be used with the understanding that the author of this blog will assume no liability for taking my advice. All tips given above must be approved by a certified medical practitioner and in no way what so ever am I to be responsible for your actions. When these results are confirmed in the lab, I will post back here and let you know, but until then don't try to be like coach JR, because:
"I'm Coach JR, yes I'm the real Coach JR
All you other Coach JR's are just imitating
So won't the real Coach JR please stand up,
please stand up, please stand up?"
Unfortunately I can only stand up right now with the help of my crutches, but you get the point.
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