Thursday, January 5, 2006

Things You Learn With A Bad Back - Volume 8


Well I am always willing to admit when I have been “gotten” but the secret to “getting” me is to apply the nails to the coffin, and pray that the air doesn’t slip in. I was slated to go to the evil “Physical Therapy” place, where all of us company owned cripples have to report to until they have sucked all of your life juice out of you. This is NEVER a happy experience, and I was damn certain that I was going to end up hurt 3 times a week until I finally give up and go on welfare. I was excited to finally be done with PT, and here I am again ordered into something that they call the “Workplace Conditioning Program” which is a fancy name for … “Waste 2 hours of what little time you have 3 days a week so we can fuck you up, or we will cancel your insurance benefits” … usually after saying that you hear the distant “muahahahahahaha” coming from some insurance company A-holes office out in Hartford, Connecticut, or wherever the hell else insurance companies keep their evil spore grown adjusters.

We’ve been through this before as this is the 8th Volume of this after all. I’m not actually stupid {but I play one in Blog!}, so I do understand that the acquisition of profit does in fact either rely on inferior care {CHECK!} or the ability to make the whole ordeal so unbearable that I simply do something wrong and they can dump my ass {CHECK!}, but so far aside from finally taking me outside and burying me in an ant hole with a slowly dripping faucet over my head {shit I think I saw that scheduled for next week} they haven’t been able to break me yet, but they are coming close as I spent the entire morning practically crying to myself as I cleaned the toilets alone.

I showed up on time as always, they lost the entire mountain of paperwork I had hurt my wrist on the last time AGAIN, but unlike all of the other times, there was no scantily clad little hottie to make the experience … um … very very hard on me, to say the least. I was instead introduced to the gayest little man I personally think I have ever met. Great, I am going to be abused, quite possibly turned on by it as I always am, by Liberace’s former roommate. Life is great!!

Well I lost my temper quite a few times trying to iron out the details of my torture … um … I mean therapy, and finally it was to begin. I can say this at least, instead of making me work on my perfectly fine back that already gets an hour of agonizing exercises a day {and actually has made my torso look rather hot as of late} we are going to be working on everything ELSE! He pointed out to me that my body has probably atrophied and I need to build up all of my other muscles. “Pffffft … Puhleeze”, I am thinking to myself, because although I haven’t actually been able to pound the iron over the last 6 months, I am still rather large for my height etc. I was quite the gym rat before my incident that ruptured the disk in my back, and after looking at him right down ~Bicep Curls 4 Pounds for 10 Reps followed by 5 Ponds for 10 Reps~ I damn near peed myself … “You realize I used to throw around 50 pounders before I left the ladies section of the gym dude” was my smart ass remark, and I placed my usual “smarty ass smirk” on my face to show the pure delight at being UBRA MALE!

He gave me a rather waning look to signify his amusement with me and says “We can adjust it up if necessary, but why don’t you just humor me this time … MmmmKay?” and then he went back to doing what he was doing, while I yawned my way through his instructions. Geeze, I mean I actually graduated from college with a degree in this shit. So what if I had a “getting out of the hospital after Zoster Pneumonia REALITY moment” as I spent most of the agonizing ten reps with 10 pound dumbbells, looking around to make sure that none of the women here could see the tears in my eyes as I strained through this. OMG … It was almost humiliating … well … I mean it would be for someone who’s last wife DIDN’T become a lesbian and cleans toilets for a living anyway. The Lat rows with the 40 pounds of resistance really hit the whole idea of atrophy home to me.

So here I am now, wimpy, pissy, not at all horny {which was usually the ONLY side benefit of all of this bullshit!}, and I am through playing with my doll’s and my barrettes and awaiting the agony of having to get a massage from Stuart Handy here, wile I am going on my brisk 2.5 mile per hour walk on the treadmill, when my new best friend comes over to tell me, “This is Veronica, she’ll be giving you your cool downs, and I’ll be dealing with your work outs,” and I am pretty sure that he continued talking but all I could hear was my brain screaming “OH FUCK DUDE, DON’T TRIP ON YOUR BONER ….. WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!” as Veronica, not only happened to be a tall black haired GODDESS, but was wearing one of those incredibly tight cotton skirts that went all the way down to her incredibly perfect ankles {black stockings … leather loafers … no spaghetti strap shoes, but hell you gets what you gets} which made my mind not only forget that I was supposed to be hating this, but what my name actually was!

Now I just have to spend fifteen uncomfortable {to say the VERY least} minutes of having my calves and buttocks stroked by Mistress Veronica … oops got the two things I am writing mixed up … I mean Veronica, and I was ready to go back to work. I was supposed to be doing something today, but for some reason it escapes me, as I for some strange reason spent the rest of my day at work writing porn in my mind. ;8o)

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The Crow's Nest {The Homepage of J~ Crow}

Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, fuck ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy