Dudes. Remember yesterday? Back when I could walk? Remember how I said, "I have such smart plans for today! Ima do my Tracy Ullman workout, then Ned and I are going to a movie! The kind of movie where you have to park downtown and walk to the theater! Then we're gonna walk to dinner! Then maybe walk around! Followed by a walk!"
Yeah.
So, I haven't done the cardio version of my workout for almost two weeks, due to my progressively fatal plantar fasciitis. If you Google "plantar fasciitis," the word "painful" always shows up. It never says, "Plantar fasciitis is a delightful heel injury, resulting in smiles and ecstasy." Never. Never once.
In the middle of my workout yesterday, I formed the thought, "This is a mistake." Because my heel? It started to hurt. When I was done, I called Ned. "Yeah. Instead of you picking me up, Ima pick YOU up, because I have to run out and get Aleve anyway."
After I showered and put on alluring clothes so Ned would find me irresistible, because what's sexier than a limping woman who shouts OUCH at every step, I schlepped to the Rite Aid, there, and minced down to the aspirin aisle. By the time I got to Ned's I was ready to commit hari kari. Or heely kari. "You sure you wanna go?" asked Ned, who has a recurring knee thing, so he felt me. But no. You know how I am. I am tough and no-nonsense. That's what I want on my tombstone. June. She was tough and no-nonsense. Now she is completely alone.
I insisted we needed to hurry to the movie, which of course was in Winston-Salem because Ned and I can never enjoy our own city, and Ned kept saying, "We have tons of time. We'll have to sit through 18 previews and that annoying retro 'Let's All Go To The Lobby' ad they always have. I hate that ad. Why do they show that ad? We've already PASSED the lobby. If we were gonna 'Get Ourselves a Treat,' we'd have done so on the way in."
Oh my god, this was similarly on YouTube and I just fell over dead. Time to make my no-nonsense tombstone.
I never seek out The Simpsons, but that show kills me all the time.
ANYWAY. I took an Aleve during the movie (we saw Celeste and Jesse Forever, and we liked it, although do I keep having to see movies about people getting divorced for a REASON? What reason? What?) and when it was over?
I felt worse.
"Oh my god, I feel worse," I moaned, and Ned offered to carry me. Ned, in fact, offered to carry me so many times over the course of the evening that I'm wondering if he has some kind of fetish.
We got back to Greensboro around 10:00 or so, and all I could think of at that point was shooting up to ease the pain. Because Ned and I were both clean out of heroin, Ned offered to bring me more Aleve. "It's not TIME for more Aleve," I groused, holding ice onto my foot and being an all-around trouper.
Honestly, I think Ned has stock in Aleve. "June, take more. Please take more Aleve. I'm bringing you another Aleve, and you have to take it." I was worried about taking more too soon, and ending up like Karen Ann Quinlin. You know how I am.
This morning? "It's time for you to take another Aleve. Do you want me to make something so you're not taking it on an empty stomach?"
Maybe he has a carrying-someone/Aleve fetish. I've heard of those. There are clubs where that's all people do.
Anyway, by the third Aleve I felt a bit better, and I am icing it as we speak. And the other good news is, because I was sitting there convalescing, I got to capture Ned's cat putting a box on her head. You know she enjoys putting bags on her head. Ned got a new router this week and discovered, hey! She likes boxes, too!
I minced in there after her as fast as I could, and considering I was gating like Igor, I think you should be impressed I got this at all. "Gating" is totally a word.
The best part was, it flapped open in the front and you could totally see her face in the box, but she shagged the whole thing once she figured out she was being paparazzi'd.
The other thing I have to tell you, although what could be more pressing than my heel pain, literally, is that somehow between my pain and agony, Ned and I got on the subject of Rik, my idiot neighbor in LA. "I wish I could've met Rik," said Ned, who clearly hates himself. And that is when I got up and gimped to the computer, and found a NEW Rik YouTube video. What the Sam Hill? Will his fame never end?
I think you need to play the Rik drinking game. Perhaps you could do a shot whenever he says "they killed my pets" or "cockroaches." Or "without my permission."
What I like about Rik, other than nothing, is how he says something JUST ONCE and lets it drop. He's not one to reiterate his point. No, sir. Because he's sane.
Anyway, Ned is on his way, probably because it's time for another Aleve, so I will be off. To limp my way through the rest of this day. Oy.
