Stupid Back

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My back, never terribly cooperative at the best of times, has been giving me grief all week.  I took to my bed with ice packs and muscle relaxants, hounded my chiropractor, prayed to the Psychic Friends – nothing helped.  Then this morning I dragged my sorry ass of to a “late brunch” (which is code for drinks and vicodin) with Secret Agent Fred and several friends and now, many hours later, I feel ever so much better.   Maybe it was the pizza.

A graphic representation of my backache this week:

Ick.

Much better.

Worthless.

Much better.

12 responses »

  1. Just when we are in need of support… our backs seem to decide to leave the equation… I've been experiencing similar difficulties of late… I feel your pain peenee…
    Can I get a double vicodin with my coffee?

    Like

  2. While I am *completely* sympathetic, having back issues myself, I've got to say that I find the labels for this post a rather odd group. Love ya. Mean it.

    Like

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