Last weekend, after a night of bar-crawling and debauchery, listening to my uncle's band, The Smokehouse Gamblers, play at a local dive bar that is the heart and soul of Petaluma, CA; after drinking countless beers and then doing shots of rum and tequila at the Tiki bar; and after smoking so my cigarettes my lungs went stiff; my cousin and I had a drunken powwow that ended with me waking up next day with scrapes and bruises, a sore jaw and a broken pinkie finger. So it goes.
Why I break bones in Petaluma, California, and yet remain totally unharmed in crazy places like the Alps, Ukraine, or the Running of the Bulls remains a mystery. Maybe it's God's way of telling me I drink too much. In any event, typing this all out now with a broken finger, reminds me that all bodies are temporary, so use yours while you can!
In my experience, events of serious bodily harm generally just increase my appetite to break loose. What? You say I can't drive a clutch with a broken leg and then hike in the Sierras with my drunken friends? I'll show you! Oh, no! My knee is locking up on a Portuguese Highway? Guess this means I need to do the Running of the Bulls while I still can.
So in that spirit, I thought today would be a perfect day to write with a broken finger...
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