I somehow managed to pull every muscle on the left hand side of my torso yesterday. For a minute there I thought I was having chest pains and was trying to figure out who I could call to bring me to the ER. Then I realized the pain was external, not internal, and set about whinging about it. I’m assuming that I slept on it wrong, with my arm up under my head (the better to cuddle with) and just wrenched the whole works.
So now there’s a dull ache from my shoulder to the bottom of my ribs. Just enough that I forget about it and then rotate my torso or lift my arm and send pain searing up my side again. Good times.
After finishing Serenity, do you know what I think I like best about the whole series? There aren’t any aliens. It’s a perfectly logical vision of the future without any preposterous space creatures. Nothing with tentacles, no humanoid beings with randomly painted stripes or other abnormalities. Not that I don’t believe that there are probably aliens out there somewhere, I just think that sci-fi depictions of them are usually completely insane. Also, they made up a language simply so that they could swear. That amuses me.
I did, in fact, spend time at the beach this weekend. I am a slightly less white shade of pasty as a result. I stepped on a jellyfish when I was coming out of the water, but luckily it was sleeping or dead and didn’t sting me. Felt really, really creepy though.
I had a friend last night tell me that when out at brunch recently, he had a libation consisting of blueberry vodka and lemonade. Ever since, I can’t think of much else. I must have one of these things. I don’t particularly love vodka, and I didn’t even know they had blueberry, but this sounds completely delicious.
I have made the executive decision to do fuck all this weekend. I am taking my pasty white self to the beach and staying there until I come out a vague shade of not-quite-so-white.
I’ll have you know that I got out of my bed at 7:53 this morning and was behind my desk at 8:02. That’s got to be a record.
Also, beach town living has its perks. I met a guy last night with a completely impossible body. The kind of body that you just don’t see in person. We’re talking underwear model abs here. Of course, he was an arrogant twit, but hey, wouldn’t you be?
