I feel fucked.
Like two sex starved dinosaurs had used me as a bed to make wild dinosaur love.
A steam roller used me as a carpet. Repeatedly. Until the steel and metal motherfuker ran out of diesel.
Like that stupid coyote from the end of every Road Runner cartoon.
I am so weak, a two day old peanut could sneak up on me and assault me without me putting up much of a fight.
This shows that never, NEVER try to run off a flu AFTER you've hit your peak. Let alone two hours STRAIGHT on a futsal court. But then half my grey matter must already be in that wonderful shiny brain in the sky by now, with the copious amounts of booze i've chugged down over the years.
This is a first for me. The fever is gone. That's good. But. I. FEEL. SHATTERED.
I sometimes think my brains are more suited for a door stopper. Or those decorative things hanging on hand phones.
Most people would go home and take some aspirin for a fever. But NO. I HAVE to macho work it out running up and down a court being body checked by some other folks.
Well, it only makes sense doesn't it? I mean after all I DO wrestle bears before breakfast.
What do you expect?
Yeah, i AM an idiot...