It's Not "Disabled," It's "Differently Abled"

Anatomy lesson
Originally uploaded by the management.

For the first time ever, I am on the Disabled List. After taking a knee in the quadriceps and the tensor fascia lata (pictured above) during a pickup basketball game (and, admittedly, seriously aggravating the injury by subsequently playing in my first league game), lifestyle-threatening gimpitude has set in. The Doctor is guessing muscular and vascular damage to the area, the result of a serious deep-tissue contusion, has messed up the iliotibial band (see above), leading to pain in both the hip and the knee. Plus, the interior of my thigh is one giant, plum-colored bruise. Rest assured, those pictures will be posted later. I can't play ball, dance, stand for long periods of time, or walk without pain in my thigh, knee, hip, and back. Sweet, sweet lovemaking, although painful, will not be denied.

In the meantime, I've missed another game, and I'll miss tonight's as well. While I doubt there's any connection to my absence, given my overall lack of skill or fitness, the Magic Johnson's are now 0-2 with only six games left to play. In short, the Injured List sucks donkey cock.

In the meantime, fevered work continues on the reopening of MoMA in Manhattan. Work is a horrible, horrible thing, suitable only for the poor, the stupid, and the deluded. Unfortunately, at least one of the above applies in my case.

Now here are the very cool things that keep me going: 1) Interpol's Antics hits stores today. Of course, it's been on heavy rotation for months, thanks to the glorious internet, but post-production, packaging, and the sheer euphoria of commodity... of OWNERSHIP make for a heady cocktail. 2) I will also be purchasing Brian Wilson's Smile, the 25th anniversary edition of The Clash's London Calling, and possibly the Star Wars DVD set (although I hate giving self-obsessed mini-Satan George Lucas any of my money) today. It's so great when freelance checks finally arrive! If nothing else, my desire to consume with such reckless abandon proves that I am a good American. 3) Jalapeno sent me the official trailer for Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. It gave me chills. A video game trailer gave me chills.

Sweet Jesus... based on the above entry, one can only assume that the Management, rather than being a hip, sexy, metropolitan, overeducated aesthete, is, in fact, a fourteen year-old boy with no prospects for social interaction whatsoever. I am exactly the same person I was in high school, only fatter and slightly dumber (thanks again, drug and alcohol abuse!).