I'm embarrassed to say that my wrist still hurts from an incident this summer-- and if there is such a thing as divine retribution for despicable behavior than it should still hurt . . . after an evening where everyone imbibed a fair bit, and my friend Rob imbibed a bit more than a fair bit, I lost patience waiting for him to get out of the beach house, as we were on our way to see the greatest cover band in the universe, and -- having just read Born to Run and being high on the merits of barefoot running, I said to Dom and Michelle, "I'll get him!" and took off at full speed in my crocs, which was fine for a hundred yards, until I hit a muddy patch of grass in between the sidewalk and our driveway (there was a flood that morning) and my legs flew into the air ahead of my body and I flipped back onto my wrist and it really hurt, despite the beer, and I also got soaked and coated in mud, and so when I ran into the house to tell Rob to get a move-on . . . and also to change my soiled clothes . . . he happened to be coming down the steps and so, in a fit of immature rage, I punched him in the stomach (with my bad wrist) and caught him in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him . . . and though I apologized profusely, I still probably deserve the wrist pain for my impatience.


Whitney said...

You're just trying to break into the Top 20 Douches in Rock n Roll.

zoltan said...

Perhaps you shouldn't wear crocs outside the house.

Dave said...

everyone at work loved that list.

i am higher on it than you (only because of my stint as a producer).

Kevin M. Brady said...

another person Dave has punched for a reason unbeknownst to the victim.

have you ever typed the word "unbeknownst"? it is quite strange.

also, i never really know where to put that question mark when i punctuate. i usually place it inside the quote, but today i dared to be different.

A New Sentence Every Day, Hand Crafted from the Finest Corinthian Leather.