Easy Like Sunday Morning

Hey. I haven't really done anything at work lately, and I avoided my office like the plague, so there was no posting from work. Thursday we went bowling (See? I wasn't kidding, we didn't do shit...) I discovered I am the worst bowler I know. Bowled 3 games; and what do you know about a 61, 60, and a 81? That's right, fucking pathetic. Mother-fucking pathetic even. Why is mother-fucking an acceptable swear phrase? I mean... If you really want to convey the fucked-up-edness of the situation, why not pick something more fucked-up? For example, instead of something being mother-fucking crazy, why not horse-fucking crazy? Or dead-people-fucking crazy? Those tend to add a little more .... something. I mean, you really feel the craziness. And a little disgust. If you didn't want to go that far you could say midget-fucking crazy... I know, I know, little people. But it doesn't have quite the same ring to it.
Then on Friday me, Crossbow, and another coworker-friend tried to bail out early to go see The Guardian (which rocks by the way. So does Grid Iron Gang). But all this last minute shit kept coming up, until we were the last ones left in the office/building. (My work is weird. We're not all one office, but we don't quite take up the whole building. I guess the word I want is department. But we're definitely not all the same department. I think I'll use department anyway.) So yeah, the rest of the department was all gone by the time we finished all the paperwork and other random last minute bullshit that only seems to happen on Friday. I think that's why I hate Fridays. Monday is my favorite day of the week. It's always so fun and seems more relaxed to me. Who knows, maybe I'm just horse-fucking crazy. Yeah, that's it. So all that shit cropped up and we couldn't go cuz coworker-friend had to pick up her kid from daycare. So me and Crossbow went later Friday night. Then we drove around after the movie trying to figure out where the hell we wanted to eat. We finally settles on Applebees, where we had the weirdest/funniest waiter I've ever had. Crossbow has a dragon tattoo on her arm, and waiterboy was checkin it out, and then says he has a dragon at home. Crossbow looks at him like "You're fuckin crazy." And waitorboy is trying to convince her he really has one. He goes to get a waitress (And Crossbow asks him if it's his booty-call, to which he replies not anymore) to vouch for the existence of his dragon. While he's gone I explain to Crossbow that a bearded dragon (which waiterboy has named spur) is like a lizard ish. So waiterboy and ex-booty call come back to the table and she shows us a picture in her phone of Spur. Then she starts saying she loves his dragon. Sometimes it's asleep and she wakes it up and plays with it. And some other shit like that. And I start cracking the fuck up. Big time. Waiterboy seems a bit embarrassed but is laughing too. Ex-booty call and Crossbow don't notice. After they retreat from our table Crossbow asks what the fuck was so funny and I had to explain that it totally sounded like she was talking about his wang ("It is the fault of the wang." 10 cool points to the fool who remembers that.) The whole night went like that. Crazy awesome Waiterboy.
Anyway, it was funny. And since I laughed at shit like that, Karma decided to be a bitch and repo my knees. I had a knee problem a while back (read: patellar tendonitis in both knees) that left me rockin inserts in my shoes and some stellar knee braces for a couple months. I still have to rock the inserts, but those braces I tossed into the back of my truck and forgot about. Until Karma decided she didn't love on me anymore. I even called my Doctoro (And I hate all Doctoro's with a hatred usually reserved for... Well, nothing but Doctoro's I guess) and made an appointment for Monday. I need my knees back. Word on the street is, yesterday's Knee-raping almost made me cry. Almost. I don't know what the fuck's going on, but this shit's got to stop. Those Doctoro's will fix it, or they will toss many many pain subduing pills at the problem until I can't remember where my knees are. Cuz the Motrin, that holy vitamin M, is not cutting it anymore. I took 800 mg's when the knee-raping (from walking around. That's fucking it. I was walking.)that is known as yesterday was occurring and all it did was cut the pain down to a dull throb that didn't make me want to cry anymore. Except I still wanted to, because it reduced my Saturday night to ice packs, a recliner, some pretty yarn, and a 4.25mm blue crochet hook.
Texts are coming from Jefe telling me the way to cure my knee pain is in the sweet sweet goodness of a cup of Starbizi (but not coffee, I cut that beautiful sweetness out of my life the same time I cut out the drinking of alcoholic beverages and the swearing of bad words-which I have given up on), so I shall now wrap this up and go get me Grande Green Tea Frappuccino.
I love you all, I'd say equally, but my mother always told me lying will send me to hell, so we'll leave it at that.