I need a banana

On Friday night, after a good hour and a half of hard-ass DDR, I got a minor cramp in my calf. Normally that doesn't happen but I was playing with a fellow 9 footer and we kept choosing impossibly hard songs to put the other down. It wasn't a big cramp, but I stopped playing, ran to take a shower and get ready for other stuff.

This morning I am lying in bed in a very contemplative mood (strange ceiling, anyone?) and I feel that that muscle is ready to cramp up at the slightest provocation. So I gingerly stretch it and rub it and do all those things you remember the trainer doing in JV Basketball. I thought I was out of the woods and decided to shake off my rumination, get up, and get down to some reading.

On the first step of my stairs my leg cramps up worse than I have ever experience in my life. 1 night of heavy drinking, another night of not so heavy drinking, a lot of phyiscal exertion and not a single glass of water. I imagine that has something to do with it.

Anyway, my leg cramps up and I do my best not do double over in pain, but my heroic efforts were met only with a loss of my brilliant balance. So now I am falling down a flight of stairs, what I am I? 80? You know when you are flying through the air with know hope of landing gently and you actually have time to think to yourself, "shit, this is going to hurt". During that airborne moment I noticed in my landing area my racquetball racquet handle up. I decide that would hurt and frantically try to reposition, mid-air, so I wouldn't land on it. I only manage to get my knees up by my ears and my spread-eagle ass zeroing in on that racquet like it was being guided by laser.

So now am on the floor, with a massive cramp, a racquet up my ass and every inch of my body bruised by stairs. I'm bleeding so I decide to get off the carpet and tend to my wounds. I engage in a hunched over little shuffle that involved my left leg as little as possible. I looked like an 80 year old diabetic "running" to the bathroom before their incontinence gets the best of them. I didn't make it to the bathroom. I tripped in my FUCKING BIRKENSTOCKS and land face first into a 24 pack of bottled water.

I then realized that God was punishing me for being such weak, horrible person and just laid there and waited for the grandfather clock to fall on me and finally ended my pathetic little life. It never happened. Y'know when you are standing over a man you've defeated in battle and are about to kill him but don't because he's not worth it? That was fucking me. So now I want to drink but I can't because it's 12 noon and I am alone and alchoholism runs in my family. So I am here, still lying on the floor and gurgling my own blood and blogging, my one escape.