We're on the road to nowhere....

Present circumfrence of my right leg nine inches from the floor: 12 inches
Present circumfrence of my left leg nine inches from the floor: 13.5 inches.

( Pictures in the cut. )

The story: Sometime recently my mother got something out of our small storage building in our back yard and didn't lock it correctly. She doesn't often go into the storage building, and there's a trick to locking it, so of course she fucked it up. So, yeah, we were locked out. I wasn't too worried about it. The weather had changed and the grass wasn't growing so I wasn't going to need to lawn mower until next year so... no worries. At least, until next year. But oh no, Mom didn't think it was her fault that the building's lock had malfunctioned. She  was positive that someone was trying to break nto the building. Mom has become increasingly paranoid since Dad died, and to her any change is a sign that someone is out to get her. So, since the lock on the little building wasn't working correctly, this was certainly the work of a burglar.

But... none of that matters. What matters is that Mom had gotten so worried about the lock on this building that it just HAD to be taken care of. Like, today. Right now. So, together we investigated it. And ... My mother... she has a way of getting me to do things that I ordinarily would not do. That way is, she starts to do them first. See, after thoroughly examining this lock and determining that we could do jack shit about it, she decided to break in to the small window on the side of the building and crawl in. My mom is almost 70 years old. This is not the work for a 70 year old woman. So I told her to get the hell outta the way. If she was so determined to do this, I would do it for her. So I opened the window (no problem -- I have cracked several windows like this in the past and this one was no problem.

And, y'know, getting in is usually no problem too. In this case I could have used a wheelbarrow to boost myself up to the window and that would have been just as easy as pie... I would have been in and opened the building from the inside and done, like that. But my mother thought it was unsafe. And she might have been right. So, instead of the wheelbarrow, I used a cinderblock that was barely as thick as my foot to give me a boost. And, y'know.... when I started to lift my right foot into the window, my left foot slipped off of that tiny cinderblock and my shin banged against the underside of the building with my entire body's weight behind it. Wonderful. At the same time I cut both hands on the windowfacing, so now I've got about a two-inch long gash on the palm of my left hand and a much smaller cut on the side of my right hand, in addition to the baseball-sized knot on my leg. The gash on the left hand was a bleeder. I'm proud of that one. Didn't hurt much, but it bled. I notice I get these awesome knots on my legs when I am hit in the shins with anything blunt and hard... like a dog's head, when it is running at top speed. Or a car door. Or... this. And they always hurt for days if not weeks. Let's keep track of it, shall we? I'm curious to see how long it lasts, and to see if this is normal for someone who's got a surgical implant. In the meantime, I can't put any weight on my left leg. I'm hobbling around like a peglegged pirate. This hurts. I'm thankful I had pain drugs left over from those recent dentist visits. They are being put to good use. This is making me forget all about the headache I had.

Second attempt at the breakin, I got in and opened the door. Now everyone's all smiles!!!!!!!1111!

I think I might have anger issues.

Friday I went to a funeral in Heflin Alabama, which is about 26 miles to the Ga border, so it was a considerable drive. With my mother. Not a fun day. I learned early in the trip that my mother was going to talk the entire trip, and that she had no intention of me replying to anything she said, because she never took a break in her speech -- she was nonstop the whole day. It's amazing how much that woman can talk. At first I tried to reply to what she said, just to attempt to make conversation, to be polite, but then I gave up, and she didn't seem to notice. It worked better when I didn't try to speak. I believe I was giving her what she wanted when I gave her total control over conversation and let her speak nonstop. It did wear on my nerves, though, and I missed the radio, though I soon found that once we got out of Birmingham there was absolutely NO rock and roll radio to be found.

Our relatives in Heflin had heard of me because I had been to California. It's like... jesus, I"ve forgotten which comedian it was that had this in his act... But this town was so backwoods that I don't think these people had actually seen anyone that had ever been to California. I was interrogated about the place. It was crazy.

The preacher who did the ceremony at the funeral was talking about the dead man's soul, and he said, "You've all heard the saying... it's better out than in." After he said that, everything the man said was a fart joke. It's turned preachers into the best comedians ever, to me. All they do is tell well-disguised fart jokes. Swear to god. Listen to 'em sometime. It's nothing but fart jokes. This guy opened a door for me. It's a miracle!

I saw Jarhead today. Class movie. I can't give it my highest recommendation because I have a small problem with how it ended, but the movie gets a solid A.
Think I will see Good Night and Good Luck sooner or later. Before the slew of awesome movies come out in the next two weeks...