Warning!

This is not a post you should view very closely if you have a weak stomach. I have been describing the bottom of my foot as having it's own Halloween costume this week, and a few people said they want to see it. In a way, you kind of have to see it to believe it, so if you scroll down you'll get both the front and side views. it looks like my foot grew an eyeball. For those of you who are not inclined to look at other people's revolting injuries, here's a picture of where I've been for the last few days:



The pillow in the middle there marks the spot. The dogs have been fiercely snuggly in their efforts to make me feel better.
It's working.

The morbidly curious can continue to page down.






Eyeball?





Or Breast?

I'm a Little Grumpy.

Next time a doctor says "This might sting a little", I'm busting out a belt of whiskey and a wooden spoon. This shit seriously sucks.
I wound up getting ready for house guests last night after all. They didn't make it, but the bed will now be made up when T gets here on Sunday or Monday, so that's okay. Sleeping was ridiculous and uncomfortable. I feel like an idiot because I can't do very much for myself, and the b.h. has been waiting on me all day. The only thing I've been taking is ibuprofen, and I think it might be time to switch to beer. I had to go to work for a couple hours today, and I left the house wearing one shoe and one slipper. By the time I got down there my foot was so swollen that I had to take the slipper off. I wound up sticking duct tape to the heel of my sock so I could walk on it and not destroy my sock.
Fuck.

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.

The Hold Steady was fantastic. The b.h. and I both got to go, all of the kids are out of town for that stupid football game, and parking was a snap. Several of our friends were there, as well as a couple hundred other people with excellent taste. Art Brut opened, and they were also quite fun. After the show we went to an after party. We stayed out until almost 5am- highly unusual for us. So I went to bed around five thirty, and had to get up at 8:15 to go to the doctor. No big deal really- or so I thought. It was just a plantar's wart, and I thought he'd give me a topical something-or-other and send me on my way. No such luck. Instead I wound up getting it frozen with liquid nitrogen. It felt like somebody set me on fire. I managed to pay (very little, bless the man, despite not having insurance) and get out to the car before I started to cry. I never, ever cry from physical pain, but this was unusually bad. When I got back to the house I took three ibuprofen and crawled back into bed and couldn't sleep. I came down to the couch to watch TV. The dogs followed me down to try and comfort me. It worked, for a little while. The rest of the day has been pretty uncomfortable, but there have been no more tears.
We went to see some friends play at the Caledonia early tonight. Low Red Land is from San Francisco and they tour a lot and we see them a few times a year. They sounded great tonight. They may be coming here to stay tonight, so when they finished playing I came home to straighten up. Now I'm on the couch watching bad TV (DVD, actually- Desperate Housewives Season Two) and waiting for the b.h. to call and tell me whether or not we're having guests. If we are, I'll get the dogs in and make up the guest bed. If not I'm cracking a beer and getting in the shower.