Yeah…So That Happened.

Soooo, in a stunning display of the grace and dignity that can only be mustered when you are a McMcerson, my darling mother, an absolute gazelle of a woman, tripped over her own feet and went down hard, taking out her own arm and shoulder, which, in her own words, “Went in a direction that I never want to see an arm ever go again”.

Believe me, if there is ever a time that you don’t want to be surrounded by cute firemen being exceedingly nice to you, it’s when you or someone you love is hurt.  I could have had January through December on the P.F.D. calendar, and the whole experience still would have been a complete boner-killer.

Following her ambulance to the nearest hospital, I had just enough time to call one of my best friends (an ICU physician on the east coast), who advised me that, “They start all the new residents in July!  Most of them kill more effectively than ebola.  Do NOT let any of those Doogie Howser fuckwads lay a hand on her!”

Many hours in the ER later…physicians consulted (and checked for actual gray hairs and crow’s feet, prior to treatment), meds given, x-rays taken (by a lovely man sporting a Juggalo tattoo, who was shockingly gentle and kind-hearted given his musical taste), and one attempt at putting her shoulder right…the decision was made that the damage was significant enough to warrant admission for surgery, in the morning.

I am thankful she has had excellent care.  I am thankful all of her doctors have grown their own pubes.  I am thankful for her morphine, although, I could certainly use a Xanax, if anyone’s asking.  I am thankful for free wifi, which is just distracting enough to keep me from thinking too much.  I am thankful that she’s pretty badass, because she needs to be, and because I need her to be.

And now…we wait…

I knew it…my mother is a friggin’ Gremlin.

Dear White Supremacist On the Corner of 27th and Northern,

While the rest of us realize that, yes, it is hotter than the surface of the sun…we citizens, collectively, would like you to consider putting your shirt back on. Yes, you spent a tremendous amount of money on your ink, or at least traded a few cartons of ciggies for that wonderous “White Pride” one on your back, but honestly, how much warmer were you with that stained tanktop, I see you holding? Perhaps, you were displeased with the way that the frayed hem covered the 10″ Bowie knife you have holstered on the back of your denim cut-offs? As a point of curiosity, were you planning on trekking into the Amazon sometime after you left the Smokes-4-Less? I would certainly hope so, because, I know this neighborhood…and even the preschoolers are more heavily armed than you are.

Before I bid you adieu, one last thought… While I understand that you feel that you are superior to all those pesky non-white folks, you should note that you are, in fact, walking in a neighborhood that is less “white-meth-head”, and more, shall we say…colorful, so maybe skedaddle back to the Juggalo Club House before someone requests that you demonstrate your “supremacy”.

Bright Copper Kettles and Whiskers On Kittens!

-Meg

P.S. If you are an example of a superior race, then we are all so unbelievably fucked, and not, remotely, in a good way.