Sunday, August 17, 2008

Spaghetti Os Are Never the Answer

Spaghetti Os are the devils food, and they ruined my workout today.

I’m finally starting to work out vigorously, a weird attraction to the smell of chlorine not withstanding, I really enjoy my pool time. I still white knuckle my handle-bars when riding through traffic, except today, when my knuckles got the surprise of their jointy lives.

Last night was my brother’s birthday, so I didn’t get home until late, which means I didn’t wake up until 10:30. I decided it was close enough to lunch time and I wanted spaghetti os, because I was feeling sluggish and those are easy. I took my opener, I half cut the can and folded it up like I always do, because I don’t have one of those fancy automatic openers with a magnet. I took the food out of the can, but it in my microwaveable vessel, mashed the button, waited, took it back out and lowered it, and the top my hand, straight into the sharp edge of the waiting canlid.

Cue the screaming, cursing, and profuse bleeding.

My brother, first-hand-experience-expert in all deep flesh wounds gave me the brilliant advice of “just tape it back together, you’ll be alright, let’s go to the pool” which is exactly what I’ve done, however, it continues to ooze through the layers of it’s bandaid late into the night despite the cleaning powers of chlorine.

A few laps after getting into the swimming pool my spaghetti o lunch kicked in. That was not heart burn, it was heart a-bomb, I felt like I was about to vomit bile and acid and the remains of something similar to pasta. I struggled forth however, and I did get a good two mile swim in today despite the horrible discomfort, I was very pleased. Lesson learned, no more canned pasta-foods.

My hand seriously hurts.


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