You know what this is a crappy picture of?
That's a crappy picture of my crappy ankle which I sprained--and I'm not making this up--crossing the street on my way to yet another dentist's appointment. No crazy potholes, no psycho cabbies to dodge--crossing the goddamn street and it just rolled under me and I knew I was screwed. At least it was at the dentist's, so I spent a good portion of the next three hours on my back with my ankle elevated (and the assistant even went to the oral surgery for a couple of ice packs for me.
I can limp on it, and it doesn't hurt presently, although whether that's from the handfuls of ibuprofen, the ice packs, or the 126 proof whiskey I've been drinking (and am now completely out of, alas) or a combination of the three, I don't know, but it would have to happen on Memorial Day weekend when I've got, for the first time in recent memory, social engagements out the ass, not to mention packing to do.
And I don't even have my Amy here to listen to me bitch and whine. Waaaaaaaaaah! I'm such a little baby when I get hurt.