If you are still missing "Idiocracy" references, such as the one in the title of this post, you are truly missing out. See the f*ing movie.
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You might disagree with the statement that I have not broadcast Friday night's incident, considering that I put it on the blog, but I'll remind you that very few people read the blog. I have not told most of my friends; I certainly have not told my parents, and I'll tell my coworkers for the purpose of making the court date next month. But I digress. I did, obviously tell my friends who met me at the hospital, I told the friends whose get-together I had left just before the incident, and I told Martha because we were e-mailing about other stuff.
I also sent my regrets to the hostess of a holiday party I was to attend last night--I shouldn't drive, among other things--and at that party she told a mutual friend. Who's now told three other friends. Which is wonderful, because this support network has come out of the woodwork and everyone near and far has asked me what they can do. Initially, I couldn't think of anything (apart from take me shopping, which P did yesterday). I mean, there is a lot that I need to do that will be painful, but it is entirely too disgusting for other people to do. I'm not going to let, much less ask, anyone else to clean my bathrooms and deal with my compost. In fact, my friends are helping with that already-- I don't dare put the cleaning off on account of pain, because I've gotten the sense that people are about to visit. But I've now thought of something that people can actively do: could you come play with my cat? Distract her from crawling all over me? It got old a while ago. Now it's also painful.
So what can you, my readers, do? Watch "Idiocracy," if you haven't already.
Ow, my butt!
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