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sigh. part of me just wants to post the picture since i, at one point or another, have told most of you the story... and since telling the story spirals me deeper into this apparent depression that has set in... but anyway (quickly) here it goes:

despite feeling ill after my ungodly amount of cheese fondue combined with 2 woodchucks (which are far sweeter than i remember), Mr Darcy and I got up saturday and stuff ourselves at the Taste of Bethesda where the notable things that happened are: 1) I petitioned the owners (Pam and Alan- that's right the people on the napkins) of Caltort to open a location in Alexandria and 2) tripped in a pothole on the way back which I believe has impact on what occured later in the day. So later that night, Mr Darcy and I went on quite the bender starting with Jaegerbombs, moving to whiskey on the m-fing rocks, then he continued with another and i broke down and diluted my second whiskey with diet coke, then we had another jaegerbomb and headed off to the townie bar to play pool. On the way we remark how we feel the jaegerbombs have effected us a little more than we had thought they would yet that did not stop us from getting a pitcher and making friends with the crazy townies. Problem with making friends with townies is that after finishing first pitcher- the craziest of the townies buys us another.

So we drunk. Later Mr. Darcy and I both recall fall whilst trying to 1) put money in the side of the pool table (me) and 2) while making wild gestures after missing a shot (Mr. Darcy). So we leave and put our new crazy townie friend in a taxi who says we should tag along to which too many Law & Orders pop in my head and I secretly feel him knowing where we live may not be the best idea so we say "No it's a short distance- we'll just walk". Yeah so less than 5 minutes later I'm on the ground after rolling my weak ankle under. Mr Darcy, offers to carry me but he can't walk straight and I had no desire to fall in front of moving traffic so I walk the rest of the mile home with the ankle. All taxis mysterious are absent from the rest of the walk home despite my half asses efforts to flag down every car that comes by so I don't have to turn around to figure out which cars are taxies and which are not.

Fast forward to next morning. Wake up slightly hung over and notice other knee is hurting very badly. In a new twist to a continued segment i'm sure we all could write entitled "Alcohol and Age- Things that never happened to you when you were 18" my hangover progress in a downward tailspin throughout the day until I decided to go take a bath (which involved me crab crawling to the bathroom) and by the time i got to the bathroom the motion from the crab crawl resulted in the expulsion of remaining alcohol in my system. Though the bath went fine (no more expulsion) I took a nap afterwards and miraculously woke up better. After some dinner we set off to the wonderful world of ERs in which I couldn't remember my doctor's name at registration and nearly told the woman it was "Alex Karev" because that named seemed so familiar- it must be correct, right?

In conclusion- i have a sprained right ankle and a sprained knee- the ankle being worse than the knee which is good since i have to use that left leg to work the crutches. I didn't have to work today but as a result of the weekend's stupidity I can't enjoy the one day I get off and don't have to spend 8 hours at work and 2 on the metro and actually can see the fucking light of day at my apartment- i can't do any of the shit on my long list of things i wanted to get done.