Oh my aching back.

[weaselmom]

How can you throw out your back playing pingpong? Actually, I re-threw it out. Today we went to the housewarming bash of some of S's friends from the Clan. They have a great party house and the alcohol flowed like, er, wine. I think the injury started to come back during combat croquet, which we played in the dark. The rules said you had to hold a beverage in one hand and croq with the other, which must have been hard on my back. Clearly I didn't drink enough or I'd have been all loose and relaxed. Except for the excruciating pain, I had a great time. I just threw back a handful of every pill in the house that remotely promised pain relief, sort of a meds trail mix. This is going to be a short entry before I lapse into blissful incoherence.

Comments

[kijjohnson.livejournal.com]

"A meds trail mix"? That line makes me wish I wrote something it fit into, just so I could appropriate it. Sudafed and just about anything makes you happy and zappy and out-cold.

Combat croquet sounds like fun. I can't play croquet for shit anyway: the possibility of clipping someone on the shin in the darkness could only improve things. What do you use for grenades?

Combat croquet: "Incoming!"

[weaselmom.livejournal.com]

Our grenades were entirely unintentional. We were playing with the world's cheesiest mallets, and after the first few swings the cheap plastic tips kept detaching from the mallet head and whizzing off in random directions. So even if you weren't directly in the line of fire of a ball, you could still get clocked by something. S accidentally killed me in the final game when it was really dark. He was poison, and he says he was aiming for the other guy's ball but couldn't tell the difference between blue and green in the dark. Huh.

Re: Combat croquet: "Incoming!"

[kijjohnson.livejournal.com]

"He was poison...."

Clearly I know less about croquet than might be desired, since this sounded to me like something a '30s gangster might say.