Good Football Sunday

[Useless]

On Thursday, both of my brothers-in-law were involved in a construction accident, leaving one with a broker rib and beat up face (he was ugly anyway) and the other one, the lovable one, has one crushed vertebra, two other broken vertebrae, a cracked sacrum, and 3 cracks on his pelvis. Luckily, there was no injury to his spinal cord. They were putting up 60 foot roof trusses when either a truss failed or the crane fucked up, causing 15-20 of the already installed trusses to collapse in a domino effect. Fortunately, they only weigh 600 lbs each, so you barely feel them when they land on you and break apart. Being the ass that I am, told his wife that she should be happy that he didn't break any toes because I heard that a broken toe really hurts. |clown| (For those of you who follow my life saga, the heavily injured one is the guy I was helping to complete his house over the winter.)

As if his suffering isn't already unbearable, they want me to bring my clippers to the hospital and cut his hair since I cut my own. You've seen my hair, right? I don't mind making him bald, but how do you cut the hair of a guy who can't sit up for the next two months?

So that's where I'll be spending much of my day. I've been trying to keep his wife laughing because she's obviously stressing over the immediate future. Of course, the other brother-in-law, who was a sanctimonious prick even before he was born again, likes to remind us that there is nothing funny about this and how much worse this could have been. [Let me tell you something about what could have been, about what might have happened - it's all shit. Yes, he could have been paralyzed or dead. But he's not. He'll be just fine. Why people must dwell on what could have happened is beyond me. It's all a fucking fiction. You could have choked on dinner last night or been flattened by a meteorite, but you weren't. So why wake up this morning worrying about how close you came to your end? Just be happy that you don't have any broken toes.]