What Doesn't Kill Us Still Hurts A Lot

I fell off my bed two nights ago.

It happened when I came back from the bathroom at 4:00 a.m. I must have thought I was an owl and could see in the dark. I leaned the crutches up against my dresser and sat on the edge of the bed.

That has satin sheets on it.

My butt hit the edge of the mattress but not enough of the edge to keep me from plummeting onto a power strip with extension cords in it. As I started to fall I pulled on the emergency brake, the wall, but soon realized the futility of that. Now there's a giant cascading hand print where it used to be clean. It would've been an excellent time to be drunk. When I first moved to New York I fell down a huge staircase at Xenon. When I landed, a crowd formed. They thought I had knocked myself out until I looked up and said, "OhmyGod I didn't even spill my drink!"

As I fell my butt hit the lower part of the bed frame and I ended up with part of my torso in a wastepaper basket I put by my bed before the surgery. People in the building down the street woke up from the sound of me crash landing. And sure, NOW it's funny.

I'm so sore. Thank God I was wearing the boot because I have no idea what would have happened if I hadn't. And I'm so over the boot that I take it off a LOT. Mercifully I had worn it to bed.

I hate having to get up in the middle of the night to pee. Even without crutches. As an insomniac, I always risk waking up just a tad more than I'd like and then if that happens I could be up until next March. If I was able to walk to a store, I swear I'd get Depends. When I was in India they had to give me one for reasons I don't remember due to morphine but IT WAS THE BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE. I wouldn't have traded having sex with George Clooney for that Depends. Sadly, I begged them for one the next day. I didn't get one and my nurses were not amused. Neither was I.

I'm over at Uproarious this week reviewing Margaret Cho and the second season winner of Last Comic Standing, John Heffron.

And now to all the commenters from yesterday. How kind are you guys? Beckie, I'd love to read Such A Pretty Fat. Email me so I can send you my address. And two nurses weigh in, gm and Heather and neither of them here in LA where I could force them into going next door to the Druggertons and stealing his painkillers for me. Please send me Dead Civil War soldiers (the perfect age for me) and yes I'll take anything from Georgia and Merecat, you have no idea how I'd kill for a giant Diet Pepsi. And Mrs. K, no I haven't tried the great idea you had about the shower and McLoserstene is always gone these days and everyone else I'm sorry I didn't link you because I'm not feeling all Mrs. Art Linkalotter today. But you all rock except Prinny. AND SHE KNOWS WHY SHE DOESN'T.

End of chat.