I wish the world were made of nerf.

Well, tonight after me and my friend Anathematized watched a bootleg of "Stepford Wives" and ate some marginally edibly fajitas, I passed out in my bathroom. I woke up to the realization that I had again dislocated my shoulder, only this time, it wouldn't go back in all cooperative like.

So I go to the emergency room...and pass out again, this time tearing my tricep (at least that's what I think I did, no firm diagnosis yet). I woke up to every nurse from the ER staring down at me, and a couple of them, examining my arm/shoulder. I heard one ask "is it dislocated?" and the answer was, "I can feel the joint here."
When I look up at a bunch of medical professionals, and the majority look ill, I get a little worried. I was in quite a bit of pain at this point, and they wouldn't let me move. This sucked, because my dislocated shoulder joint was jutting out at a painful angle from my body.
Then the bed o' doom finally gets there, and Nurse Brad, and his furry buddy decide to try to pick up my 330 pound ass, unsuccessfully. They did however manage to forcibly put my shoulder back in it's socket. After that, they decide that maybe I could help them get myself into the bed.
I don't know if any of you have had a dislocated joint before, but I have done each knee once, and my right shoulder at least twenty times. This was the first time in years that it didn't just pop back in when I twisted it quickly. And let me tell you, forcing it in by trying to lift me under my arms was right up there with being shot on the pain scale.

Next, the "little kung fu bitches" in X-ray put me into several positions I cannot attain uninjured, and caused me to wince, and even swear a couple times. If the cute one hadn't been admiring my tattoo, I would've been more angry. ( I am a sucker for pretty lady complimenting me )

Now I get my choice of painkillers...literally, they asked me what I wanted, and went down a list of pretty powerful shit. But me being me, I chose a couple of vicodin. When that finally kicked in, the doc came back in, and said "Yep, nothings broken." and sent me on my way. I turned down a scrip for painkillers, as I am a recovering alcoholic, and the danger of having excessive drugs in the house is one I don't want to deal with right now.

On the upside, my wife, feeling sorry for me, took me to the drive thru at Uncle Nick's, the best gyros in existence, and got me dinner for tomorrow seeing as I probably won't be cooking for a few days at least.

BTW, typing is a bitch when it hurts to move your fingers.

If this is in anyway incoherent, or otherwise unreadable, fuck you I'm in pain.