You put the 'happy' in my -ness

Got gout?

I do. (did) Does?

No cry for me Argentina, 'cause my diet sucks. But as with all things Hawaiianmark-ish, I gots to have a spiel or spin on it that makes it semi-comatose (original)...

So I garner up a feeling that my ankle to the left-wingish side is a mite purturbed at me; perhaps I landed on it the wrong way from jumping off a terraced wall in the back of the house; coulda been tweeked on a stair climber at the station; maybees yanked a bit too hard on by my surf-leash; or maybe, just perhaps; I eat like shit and drink too much beer.

But I figures that it is just a tweeking of the same area that I tore the ligaments on back in 1996, from a surf incident. Yeah, thats the ticket. So off (yes, I am) I go to work at the pink devil of tourist infestation; (but really they have been behaving like normal humans!) later on after work, it feels a bit worse than earlier, like 10X worse but WTF, I have to go to firecom on the next day, so tough titties said the little kitty, get your ass to bed and wake up refreshed!

Maybe not.

So I carreen my body into bed, and toss, and turn, for like the whole motherbloody-what-did-I-do-to-desrve-this-(no, we wont mention 1982) night long. Racking my stoopid self with indecision to call in sick to firecom, or pop a buncha ibuprofen, or just lay back and deal with it. Indecision won, and I battle until 430 in the AM, when doofus me decided to pop - COSTCO size container ibuprofen! Wheee! Sleep for 15 minutes! Get up and - voila!

It still felt like shit.

So up at 5AM, and waddle my limping sorry ass to the car, go to work. Go for the whole shift in not-as-bad pain, but you know me; why do anything half-ass! When 9turtles in the PM roll around, I can barely walk, much less move, or stand. At least I get to sit for the 911 abuse, I guess.

Of course, I left the Ibuprofen at home. And no one had any at firecom.

Is that like strike number 65? Or near it? Yerrrrrrrrrrr Outttttt!

So another night of ZERO sleep, and by 3AM, I was counting the fricking seconds till I was done with work. Of course, we have an Atomic Clock, which in florescent green large ass numerals, tells us each passing SECOND..... And there is 2 of these demons at firecom, so there is NO GETTING AWAY FROM HOW LONG YOU HAVE TO GO!!!

Ahem. Sorry.

OK. So, the end finally arrives, and all I have to do on a glorious Sunday morning in paradise is - get my sorry ass to ER, cause I am going to kill my leg if I dont get this bastard taken care of.

Ahem. Sorry, again.

But magic of magic, if you want to go to ER, go on a Sunday morning. Not fricking kidding, my whole time there was 1hour and 15minutes. For real. Most of that time was me doing the 'its called "hobbling" ' from that Stephen King movie- Misery; -type walk. Soooooo -
The ER Doc, Dr. Ishida, (any ER Doc that tells you when he first sees you - "If you were planning on surfing, youre screwed" is cool by be) asks the standard questions, and then comes to the question of the day -

"Are you under any stress?"

Hobbler1 - "Hmmm like what kind?"

Doc- "Like work - or home - or financial -or ..."

Hobbler1- "Yep."

So we got that outta the way, and then he asks on diet and stuff.

My diet sucks.

Either I eat a lot at the station, or basically nothing on the other days. So figuring I work a 24hr shift like 10 days a month, that leaves 20 odd days where I eat....

Like shit.

And I do quaff an Ale, or a pint, or a black-n-tan, or maybe a good pilsner, a stout has some fine attributes, then there is the whole range of bitters, a good ...

You get the point? I like a good beer. But combine the lack of a coherent diet, with a day or two of - "eat?" -I got no time to eat -, and squash a few hops and barley down my gullet, the recipe falls short of good.

But modern medicine has come to my rescue, as Indomethacin for the pain (1 to 2 capsules by mouth) WTF was I gonna take it by?.. and Coch-something or other, ( take 2 capsules, then 1 until a total of 6, or diarreha occurs)...

I loved that label, "Here! take this medicine until you shit till your ass is raw!" Thanks Glaxo-Smith-Kline-Arriba! Maybe I can make my own class action law suit.

I will eat better, I will imbibe in moderation, and, fuck it, I will surf my ass off once this mother-$%6^#& is gone.

Just all happiness and joy.

Shine On.

My ankle has a nice shine to it, right now.

And I got 24 tomorrow.

Whoooo hoooo!

Aloha!