How My Back Ruined My FOUR Day Weekend

Or, Even I Can't Blame the Dog For This One¹

Greetings from the Slogosphere! Though I have never yet gotten to the point of writing The Slog Manifesto, there is a reason for this blog's title. And it's hints are in the definitions on the corner of the page, and how they relate direct to My Sad Little Life.

Even barring the surprisingly common occurrance of Unauthorized Canine Fecal Matter in my apartment,² I am not known as either

• A particularly lucky person
• A particularly level-headed³ person when my luck is bad

In other words, bad shit⁴ happens me to a lot, and I like to complain about it.

I suppose I should "man up" and take charge of my own destiny. But no. In the case of my back, I think it's entirely fair to whine and moan like an 11-year-old that's just been told she can't get tickets to see Hannah Montana.⁵

As eagle-eyed Slogophiles might well be aware, I am 31 years of age. When I was about 26 or so⁶, I developed sciatica. Your mid-to-late-twenties is always a fantastic time to develop a lower back problem. Because, since youth is wasted on the young, why not just take it away from them, and give them a disorder that makes them feel like they're 78 years old?

Honestly, "sciatica" sounds like something your Granpappy complained about just before Mom and Dad made the so-called "tough decision" to ship him to some raisin ranch with a name like Sandpiper Estates or Pleasant Hill Cove. Maybe we could come up with a more "youth-oriented" or "Xtreme" name for it? Or name it after someone kinda cool? I'd much rather tell people I had "David Cross Syndrome" or "a Bulging Chiklis."

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Pain.

I has it.

Anyway, my sciatica has been an on-again, off-again phenomenon since then. Mostly off, as one of my Top Three Deadly Sins to commit is Sloth,⁷ so it's usually easy for me to follow doctor's orders and lay off lifting more than 20 pounds at a time. However, there comes a time in a man's life when he's sick of paying 108 bucks a month to store his excess crap. So Teh Aly-Baerz⁸ and I went on a trip to Public Storage this weekend, and sorted through the Lion's Share of Wolter's Library.

Other facts about me that I could share right now:

• I am a compulsive book reader
• I am a compulsive book buyer
• I am a compulsive book hoarder
• This makes me a jackass

So, I had to sort through roughly 700 pounds of Assorted Printed Material, deciding what to keep and what to give away to Goodwill. I managed to actually give away something like two boxes worth, which is a serious victory in My War on My Compulsions.⁹ However, the specific gravity of paper is high. Oh, so very high.

Before anyone says anything: I (mostly) lifted with my legs, I swear. The problem with that? Oh, the next day, when my legs were killing me and we had to move the boxes into our apartment. Because I then favored my legs. At the expense of...well, I think I've spelled that out enough.

Anyway, yesterday, I couldn't walk, and wasted some Paid Time Off to rest it off. I basically spent the whole day in or around the bed, pestering La Alejandra del Hombre Bueno and complaining. I was moderately better this morning, so I decided to cut off what was rapidly becoming The Worst Unplanned Vacation in History. And since you can't get heroin over the counter, in order to rejoin the work¹¹ force I had to take (to paraphrase Bill Hicks paraphrasing someone else) An Heroic Dose of ibuprofen this morning.

Interesting fact about ibuprofen: it's not a miracle pill.

So, the Slog Status Report for March 18th, 2008:

• I am in excruciating pain
• It is largely my own damn fault
• I have tried and failed to blame The Spark
• In retaliation, he will no doubt crap on something I love while I am at work
• I will be powerless to clean it up, as it took me over 5 minutes to put on a shoe yesterday.

Hope you liked this bitter, largely unfunny rant about My Defective Body. Next one will be less self-centered and have more Synthpop Stars and Mogwai Feeding Tips.

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1. But Lord how I tried. I really did.
2. Located in stately Slog Towers ("You don't have to be Section 8 to live here, but it helps.")
3. I was going to put sanguine, but I suddenly remembered that I can't remember if sanguine means calm or belligerent. If only I had some way to look up words and their meanings. Oh well, back to writing about myself on the internet.
4. I still can't believe he shat the bed. THE BED!!!
5. I'm not sure who this is. But I'm following the time-honored old-guy tradition of making an attempt to appeal to the youth demographic ('cause kids love reading blogs where 30-somethings rant about how much Citizen Kane could have been improved by adding a scene with a young Bea Arthur and a Talking Rhino singing a show tune [and you KNOW it would have been]. Or at least they do when you mention some pop star and/or actress they like).
6. It might have been 27. I honestly can't remember much that happened in my life before last Tuesday or so. Every now and then I have to consult this blog just to remember what I'm mad at lately.
7. The other two? Gluttony and Wrath. I would have put in Lust, but honestly, thinking of Lust just makes me commit either Envy or Pride, depending on my current status. And Greed is pretty awesome as well. Really, all of the Deadly Sins are pretty good. But I try to stick with my Top Three for most occassions.
8. See my new line of "Loljew" merchandise, soon to be available at a cafepress store near you.
9. Up next: I tackle My Irritating Need To Put Footnotes In Blog Entries¹⁰
10. And after that? Randomly Capitalized Terms.
11. I admittedly use that term loosely (see "Seven Deadly Sins, My Top Three" above)