Dude, Where's Your Caretaker???

Every time I get one of those disgusting, this person died in a freaky, weird kind of way email, I wonder why the hell people send things such as this.

And it also just occurred to me that maybe I'm only one of a select few that have morbid, disgusting friends that actually find this kind of shit interesting.

I received one a while back that had a guy flattened under some kind of bulldozer. Seriously.

But before you get to the really nasty pictures, it does warn you.



"If you have a weak stomach, do not go any further."

Who the hell can resist that? Not I.

Maybe that aspect of my personality is why my friends send me pictures of some poor unfortunate soul that was never taught the proper technique for loading heavy equipment on a trailer. Not that I would probably fare any better.

Last night, I was at the Rays/Red Sox game. I'm amazed at people that go to sporting events to get publicly loaded. Not by the 'intoxicated in public' part, but the whole 'let me spend $10 dollars a beer' part.

Anyway, we were surrounded by a shit load of people that were highly intoxicated and what looked like a serious minority of designated drivers or caretakers of their stupid, loud, profanity screaming buds.



It was funny when some guy decided to make it onto the field (why? I have no idea...)and was tackled by three security dudes before he could even get past the bull pen.

Moron.

Toe Jam? Literally!

The best part about Mondays....

I was trying to be optimistic, so I tried to come up with a few, but honestly, I've just sat here, looking at my computer screen for the last two minutes drawing an absolute blank.


I can't think of one thing.


Seriously.


And this Monday, I'm sitting here with my feet pulled up in my chair, contemplating the fact the school starts back in seven days and I've got a broken pinkie toe. Yes. Broken. Function suspended.


I guess stumbling through the kitchen at three in the morning is probably not the best idea. And the damn bar stool jumped out at me.


Jumped...


Out...


At...


Me....



I thought I was going to die. It was a good thing my husband was out of town, because I then crawled to the bedroom, rolled around on the bed moaning loudly for about five minutes (I did catch the innuendo, there, by the way) popped three ibuprofen and prayed for the pain to go away.


My foot is now swollen and slightly discolored. And it hurts to walk. Seriously.


In the process of this post, I did find the silver lining. Lots of feet are A LOT uglier than mine. Seriously.



You'd think he would shave his toes. Or maybe clean some of the toe jam out before taking a pic.

And check these nasty things out...



Holy schnikies. It's call a fungus, dude. They sell stuff that actually cures this kind of thing.


Don't get me wrong. My feet are ugly. But a good pedicure goes a long way in camouflaging ugly feet.