Ouch.

I fell and skinned my knee at work yesterday. Motherfucker! Do you know how bad it hurts to skin your knee? No wonder children freak out when it happens to them. Plus I ripped my pants! They were only H&M, but still. The whole thing was a drag.

This is what my coworker, Mrs. Living Corpse, said to me: “Well Ms. Whip, that’s why we’re always telling the orphans not to run in the hallways, hahaha. No running in the hallways!”

I’m like, Jesus, lady, I’m bleeding! That is not a funny joke! It made me think: this is the reason that the orphans are going to grow up to be teen moms and hardened criminals and whatnot. Because people like Mrs. Living Corpse are always blaming them for falling down and skinning their knees.

Then she goes, “You can just put a patch on those pants.” What does she think I am, a fucking hippie?

In the spirit of the narcissism, I bring you a picture of my poor, poor knee:

Wound po-rn!

Later, I was making my gimpy way home, and dudes were checking me out left and right on the avenue. It was totally bizarre. I have noticed this phenomenon before: the days when Pistol is ready to slit her wrists, feels ill or is dreadfully hungover are the days when she is most fascinating to dudes. What is that? Someone please explain.

And how come it didn’t work that way when I was sixteen? I would’ve been up to my ears in ck, glum soul that I was.

I think maybe I was too mean. I was one castrating bitch of a sixteen-year-old.

Anyway, to continue the saga of my knee: Today I decided it would be okay to go to the gym even though it still hurts. Bad idea. Now my whole leg is fucked, and my knee has a click.

by Pistol Whip | 3 February 2007 | not OTOMG, orphans, narcissism | Comments