My ankle is jacked

The Bears apparently still suck.

Crazy huh?

Stupid Packers.

It took the cheeseheads 1 minute and 43 seconds to score, which wouldn’t be so bad if say, they had started with the ball.

Lame.

Moving on.

My ankle is JACKED.

I was at Jazzercise Saturday morning, all ‘skip-ball-change HOP! skip-ball-change HOP! skip-ball-change HOP! skip-ball-change HOLY BANANA COVERED SNOW FROM PIRATES! WHAT THE GROUND HOG DAY JUST HAPPENED?????!!!!!’

I pretty much touched the arch of my foot to my ankle bone and then landed on it.

Just writing that hurts.

It kinda looks like someone painted it purple, blue and puffy.

And before you go all “DID YOU SEE A DOCTOR” on me, A. I am still (STILL) paying off my surgery from a year ago. and B. I didn’t hear the infamous “crack” sound you hear so much about when bones break, so I’m banking on it just being sprained, in which case, I can implement RICE (rest, ice, compress, elevate) by my own self, thank you very much.

I will say that going to the bathroom has turned into a medal-worthy project involving mostly unused arm muscles and trusting a wall-mounted toilet paper holder to bear more weight than the manufacturer recommends.

Luckily, my family is so freaking awesome that as soon as I called my mom with tears in my eyes, she gathered up my sister, my niece, my grandma, a pair of crutches and some taco bell and they all came over.

Thank God.

Seriously.

Without them I’d be avoiding water so as cancel out unnecessary ladies’ room trips, living on peanut butter from the jar (I don’t really grocery shop), and using lukewarm water to ice my ankle because getting fresh ice would suck too much.  Plus, I’m pretty sure my roommate doesn’t want to help me into shower – making me (much appreciated) eggs with cheese and soy chik’n strips was more her limit.

Now excuse while I take 3 advil, watch the Bears lose, and contemplate how exactly I will drive with my left foot tomorrow.

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Crystal V. Wal-Mart

Apparently $5.32 is pretty freaking important to freaking Wal-Mart.

Today I went to return a $5 pair of tights that had never been worn and were still in the package and could be resold no problem. I bought them as a back-up in case I put on the black nylons I got for Diana’s wedding and hated them.

And I swear to cash registers that I had a freaking receipt at one point. But alas, I had left it at home.  And, all I wanted was cash for the stupid tights.

But the guy, was all, ‘Ya, we have to give you a gift card.’

And I’m all “Umm, ya. I really, really, really need the cash because I have .2 gallons of gas in my car.’

And the man was all ‘No. I can’t do it.’

So I asked to see his manager.

Who was all ‘Do you have a receipt?’

And I was all, ‘No, but I really, really need the cash for gas and it’s only $5.’

‘But you don’t have a receipt?’

‘No’

“Then I have to give you a gift card.’

‘Ok. Can I see your manager please.’

‘Fine. Hey [worker person] call [specific manager’s name that’s probably known for saying no to customers]’

Next manager appears.

‘Hi! Can I help you?’

‘Yes. I just really want the $5 cash for these tights.’

‘Ok. Do you have a receipt?’

‘No. But it’s only $5 and I really need the cash to put gas in my car.’

‘Oh. Ya. Well, I can’t do that.’

This woman underestimated me and my need for gas though. To me that $5 was about 7 tribillion times more important than it could ever be to her.

I was planning to wait her out.

‘But I really, really, really need the cash for gas. FOR GAS WOMAN!’

‘Ya. I can’t do that.’

So I dropped my trump card.

‘I know you can do it. I used to work at Wal-Mart. At the service desk. And you just hit ‘cash’ instead of ‘gift card.’ Also, I know that you don’t give out gift cards unless the return is over $5, so this is just 32 cents over. AND I REALLY, REALLY need the cash for gas. Did I mention that?’

‘Fine. Give her the cash.’

And that’s how I got enough gas to get Rockford so my mom could give me money so I could eat this week. (Thanks mom!!)

True story.

Also, Wal-mart is lame.

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Wishing them a life dripping with blessings

My friend Diana is the kind of gal who loves steak, arranges her schedule on Ash Wednesday so she can go to noon Mass, and who follows the news so closely that when I get a breaking CNN text alert, she already heard about whatever happened 10 minutes ago.

And she’s become one of my closest friends since I met her about a year and a half ago.

Which is why I couldn’t possibly be more happy that yesterday she got married to the love of her life – Chuck.

I have never in my life seen a bride so genuinely happy.

Ever.

And her now-husband was beaming so much that I thought sunshine might start coming out of his teeth.

The setting was intimate, the vows were genuine and  polka dancing was fun to watch. And I learned a valuable lesson about the expiration date of the electric slide.

I don’t even mind that multiple members of the Mariachi band asked to take cell phone pictures with me. My Spanish is rusty, but I can only assume they either thought I was pretty or that I had toilet paper sticking out of my nylons and nobody wanted to tell me.

I wish both Diana and Chuck a home that’s dripping with blessings, a life filled with more happy times than bad and a love that really does make the two of you become one.

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– I know it’s grainy, but I was in the back because I got there a tad late (Sorry Diana). I LOVE how Chuck is smiling here though. He looked like that pretty much the whole day. True story.

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– Diana and I. And yes, that smile was on her face right down the end when the banquet hall staff were starting to clean up.

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