Slipping on Ice, Podcasting, and Ultra-Flimsy Tea

As I was leaving work on Monday night I stepped on an ice patch in the parking lot, and somehow managed to administer an Atomic Knee-Drop to the pavement.  And the pavement was not impressed.  My knee hurt like a sumbitch, and I ended up wallowing around in a mud hole for a minute or two, with a pronounced grimace on my face.

There was nobody out there at the time, which is a good thing.  If someone had laughed at me, everything probably would have gone black and I would’ve woke up with the front of a dress shirt clutched in my fist.  I have a long history of losing my freaking mind when people laugh at me when I’m hurt; I’m simply not a fan.  And if some goody-goody had tried to help, it probably wouldn’t have been much better.  So, it’s best that I endured the episode alone.

I eventually returned to my feet, and my entire left side was soaked-through.  It was warm outside, and everything was melty and wet.  But, clearly, it was still a work in process, ‘cause I’d found some healthy ice underneath all that water.

Then I had a horrible thought:  my phone!  If that thing slipped out of my pocket, and is now lying at the bottom of that puddle… my exploded knee cap is the least of my problems.  I began frantically patting myself down, like String Bean on Hee Haw, and discovered that my phone was still safe and sound in the interior pocket of my jacket.

And once I realized that disaster was averted, the pain returned to my knee.  I’d almost forgotten about it during my Android-based panic attack, but now it was front and center again.

When I got home I took off my jeans, and there was a big open sore on the left side of my right knee.  It was like when I was a kid, and fell down on the sidewalk.  It didn’t feel too good, but didn’t appear to be anything serious.  All the pain seemed to be on the outside, which was a good sign.

And get this…  When I returned to work on Tuesday, my interim boss asked if I’d fallen in the parking lot the night before.  Apparently the security guards saw it happen, or noticed me rolling around on the asphalt out there, and reported it to her.  Hey, thanks for checking on me!  Thanks for rushing to my side, assholes!!

I had to fill out an accident report and the whole nine yards.  But the good news is that my knees aren’t completely Mickey Mantle’d up.  And my pelvis didn’t turn into a pelvis-shaped pile of dust.  These are positives, I believe.

Last night at work I bought a bottle of Brisk “iced tea” from one of the vending machines, and the bottle was shockingly flimsy.  Have you noticed this?  It was just one step up from a plastic bag.  The thing was difficult to grip, because there wasn’t even enough integrity to facilitate a gripping.

Is this some kind of environmental thing?  Are these new biodegradable bottles, or something?  Or is it just an attempt by PepsiCo to save a hundredth of a cent per bottle, by giving us a crappy grade o’ plastic?

It was almost like a Magnum condom full of tea.  Do you know anything about this?  Please help me out, won’t you?

And I’ve mentioned, probably on more than one occasion, that I’ve started to fixate on podcasts.  I download them through iTunes, and listen at work.  I especially like Adam Carolla and Marc Maron.

Brad sent me this list of a USA Today columnist’s ten favorite comedy podcasts, and my two faves appear there.  I’m unfamiliar with many of the others, and will be checking them out soon.  In fact, I already listened to an episode each of Never Not Funny and Mike & Tom Eat Snacks.

Did she miss anything in the comedy category?  I’m in a podcast frenzy over here, and would appreciate your suggestions.

And I always feel funny about bringing this up, but if you’ve ever thought about making a donation of beer to “the cause,” right now would be a really good time.  Ahem.  Here’s the link.  As always, I appreciate your support.  And if you’d like to buy a shirt, you can do so here.  Much appreciated!

Yeah, I feel funny about that kind of thing, but some of those podcasters just come right out with it:  “SEND ME MONEY!!”  Just so you know, I’ll never go that far.

I’ll leave you now with the Question of the Day.  I’d like to read your stories about falling down.  It could be ice-related, like mine, or something else.  Perhaps you fell down a flight of stairs, or plunged down a manhole like Larry Fine, or maybe went over a porch railing in a drunken stupor?  Anything interesting about falling down will do.  Please use the comments link below.

And I’ll be back on Friday, my friends.

Have yourselves a great day!

Now playing in the bunker

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So, who is this guy?

Thanks for stopping by! My name is Jeff Kay, I was born while JFK was president, and it's all very embarrassing and corny. Today I'm a suburban husband and father, who is sometimes accused of being a bit tightly-wound. The West Virginia Surf Report! is my creative outlet, and insurance policy against completely losing my shit. I hope you'll stick around and participate in the lively community of geniuses and curmudgeons who hang out here every day. I love a full 87% of them! And while you're at it, please follow me at Twitter and Facebook.

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