The Balloon Attack

evil_ballonI was at the hospital on my volunteer stint and like the know-it-all that I am, I turned to one of the other volunteers and tugged on this balloon’s string and said, “Don’t tug on this balloon’s string because you’ll break it loose from its secured place and it’ll float up to the ceiling.” Of course, that’s exactly what I did not two hours later. Doh. Dumb assdom in motion.

The dang balloon was out in the main lobby too with all the patients who were waiting to be called either into the ER or urgent care. They were just sitting there, waiting and staring at the baboon balloon with googly eyes that rattle around in its head. He was plastered on the ceiling mocking me. Soon as a little helium leaked out his foo hole one of those patients was carting his big mylar monkey ass home. All this happened on a Friday. Come Monday, he had sunk only an inch off the ceiling and when I walked in the main door, that baboon balloon yelled at me, “Hello sucker.” I tried to ignore him, but it was almost impossible. Mid morning, some beanpole of a doctor came in the gift shop for a Red Bull. The gift shop manager gave him our can grabber and asked him if he would do the charitable act of fetching the baboon balloon off the ceiling.

I escorted the doc to the scene. He jumped a couple of times and grabbed the balloon. Gotcha. Everything was cool until the doc backed up against a couple of cafeteria tables we had leaned against the wall. I have no idea how he hit them with such force but they bounded into air and the top ends came down on my foot. I didn’t see ‘em coming because I was staring at my prisoner, the renegade baboon. The doc said, “Oh, I bet that hurts.” And he was gone. I hobbled into the gift shop and relinquished my prisoner into his cell. Then after a few minutes, my foot felt okay so I went about my business.

About 10:30pm that night, I decided the tables broke my foot because I could no longer walk on it, and it hurt like a sonovabitch. Funny how that delayed reaction worked. So, my husband took me to the ER. The x-ray said it wasn’t broken. The physician’s assistant gave me an air splint and some crutches and told me to use the crutches, but I can’t work ‘em. I did some weird move in the ER that almost denutted the physician’s assistant. I’m using my cane for safety’s sake.

dog_slipperThe physician’s assistant told me I should wear the air splint until the pain stops. That might be in a few days or a few weeks. He said I could wear my shoe over the splint. Tonight, as I got ready to work the Yoga class sign in desk, I got my shoe out of my closet and discovered the physician assistant smokes crack. There is NO shoe that can fit over the air splint. NONE. I had to wear my slipper to Yoga. My slipper is in the shape of a dog. I tried to hide it under the sign in desk, but that didn’t work. Everyone saw it. Class started and I left. I’ll be held accountable later.

My husband came to pick me up, and I bemoaned the fact that I was going to try to go to the hospital for my volunteer stint on Friday, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to wear my beloved dog slipper there. The answer was Wal-Mart, of course.

I have not driven a damn thing since the brain surgery five long years ago, but the shoe department in Wal-Mart is in the back of the store. I think that handicapped mobile they gave me was possessed. Really. I was not even giving it any gas when the thing tried to back over the saleswoman in the shoe department. Freakish. I have no clue why she would bend down behind me to rehang a pair of knock off Crocs. Why not wait until I had motored off into the sunset, or at least into electronics?

I was so unnerved after the near death experience (the sales lady’s, not mine) that hubby took me to KFC. I love that place. Hubby hates it. I only like dark meat though, so I ordered a 2-piece meal, a leg and a thigh. I opened my plastic meal container, and there was one piece of chicken in it. I had to ask the hubby what I had just bitten. He told me it was an odd looking breast. We did the big loop back to Kentucky Fried chicken, and he walked into the place this time, rather than fiddling with the drive through. He slung the whole mess down on the counter. Oakland. 8:30pm with the security guard staring at him. He went mano a mano or should I say chickie a chickie with his peeps. KFC didn’t want the gnawed piece back. They gave me the leg and thigh from the original order and another stale biscuit.

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4 Responses to “The Balloon Attack”

  1. Thanks for starting my day off the right way. A lot of chuckles. Sorry about the foot, but it adds to the humor. Oh, Ilike the wihite meat.

  2. I love your slippers! They are adorable. I too like white meat in chicken.
    I think that balloon would scare me!

  3. You know, I’ve always heard that balloons were dangerous and I know they carry a mandatory caution tag as a choking hazard, as well as a do not release Mylar balloons because they short-out electric lines, but a Dr. To-tall Klutz, table flipping, foot smashing hazard — who’d ever thunk such a thing could happen? I just can’t imagine how large that caution tag is going to have to be to encompass all the dangers that can befall an individual when buying, transporting, or decorating with cute little balloons.

    Oh speaking of cute, I was at the Zoo yesterday and while we were admiring the zebras, two of the zebras got a little territorial and started chasing each other around the enclosure, it was exciting to see two zebras running full tilt, snapping at each other while proclaiming their dominance. The sound of their hooves pounding the ground was thrilling. We were, in an instant, transported to Africa and everyone stood in hushed silence watching nature at its best, when a little boy stepped out of the crowd and started yelling “NO RUNNING! NO RUNNING!” We all turned and looked to see the source of the little voice, and you could see his mother’s embarrassment as her little boy repeated the words that she had so often used as he ran through the kitchen.

  4. Everyone likes white meat but me. Glad you got a few chuckles Steve.

    Hey Connie, I bought that balloon and gave it to my honey for his valentine’s. ha ha

    AZ, LOL!!!!! That is the best story of that little kid. I would have laughed so hard. Too Too funny.

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