Ouchy Grouchy

Just for the moment, my life sucks spoiled chicken salad out of a dead rhino's ass.

The Tennis Elbow, known in Latin as lateral epicondylitis, has gotten bad.

So bad that my doctor would be mad if he knew I was typing.

Or lifting weights. Which I'm not, since I only do that with him anyway.

Oh, and no guitar playing. None of the 8 guitars hung up in my living room. No working on them, either. I have no strength in my hands anyway.

I can't do much work; no typing.

My arms just hurt constantly.

Well, only when I movethem.

Oh, and the therapy is a f@#$ing joy. Deep-tissue massage to break up scar tissue along both forearms. All that tissue sits atop a nerve, too. Imagine the Noogie of Doom for five minutes at a time. It takes all my effort to overcome the instinct to move my arm away from this remarkably unpleasant experience. And that's BEFORE he fires up the machine that's like a mini jackhammer. Another five minutes of that just adding to my fun.

Mommy, the doctor bruised me. Do I really have to go back tomorrow?

The pain shoots down into my hands, too, making them nearly useless. Imagine having to psych yourself up to cope with the pain of taking your keys out of your pocket. Not a massive pain, just a chronic one. (Kind of like my marriage...)

When I get home, I ice my elbows. Constantly. 10 minutes on, 20 minutes off.

So I sit in my flat watching TV, since there's f#$%-all else I can do. And even if I do it, it hurts.

No, I can't even do that, but thanks for asking. I have yet to succumb to enough self-pity that I head to Kowloon and contract that job out, but pray for us sinners, will ya?

Oh, and the air pollution has gotten bad enough that my asthma is keeping me indoors with my air purifier. I'm on my inhaler with the frequency of a degenerate basehead; I hit the pipe more than some crackheads I have known.

So I sit in my house unable to do anything and wheezing. I'm in constant pain and can do nothing constructive nor fun. I can barely open bottles or lift the pan off the stove.

Trust me, I'd write more if it wasn't so f@#$ing painful. This took me an hour.

Sorry, I gotta go freeze my elbows again.