Last night, Initials and I went to the local concert on the square. It always sounds more fun than it ends up being, mostly because there's an estimated attendance of 20,000 sitting down on the lawn of the Capitol, and out of the 20,000, there's usually about 10,000 persnickety old couples, 9,000 parents with unruly kids, and 1,000 couples on dates, out of which maybe there are 20 guys worth a second look, 50 if you include the DILFs.
Various friends ended up falling ill and/or failed to pick up their goddamn cell phones when we called to remind them, so it ended up just being Initials, his foreign friend, and me, dining on stuffed tomatoes, vegetable quiche, arugula/mozzarella/prosciutto/fig salad and my sugar-nutmeg cookies. Yes, we are gay. Very gay.
Unfortunately, all of that fey food led to a swarm of mosquitoes hanging out and dining on our supple homosexual blood, and Initials bolted across the street to pick up some bug spray just as the concert was about to start.
He comes back twenty minutes later favoring his right arm, with a busted lip and a bag of ice which I then proceded to put into plastic bag for his elbow. Being a gentleman, he told us the story as succintly as possible, how he tripped over a short barricade while he was trying to cut through a flower patch on the way to the store, trying not to disturb the annoying couple behind us who kept shushing us, who went so far as to summon a volunteer to reprimand us.
Fortunately, the volunteer took a look at Initials' arm and snapped at the old couple "His arm is broken, so give him a break." It was nice that she took our side, but also sucked that Initials' suspicions were correct: he broke his right arm.
It was about intermission by this point, so we cut out and headed to the doctor. Thank goodness I brought a book, because the tv in the waiting room was showing a marathon of House of Payne and the only other people in the waiting room were black and loving that show, even going so far as to give me sass when I rolled my eyes when the fat saucy black woman told a skinnier saucy black woman that "You look like you're about to do a commercial for Dark and Ugly" while jutting her head to the right and making a motion with her right arm while snapping and the 'studio audience' laughed for thirty seconds.
And now Initials is in a sling for the next six weeks, and not the fun kind of sling, but instead the type of sling that is going to make me in charge of all of the cooking, cleaning, driving, all of the housewife verbs for the rest of the summer.
Lame.
