jesus is dead, let's eat candy!

happy easter.

i am officially retarded. last week i was in austin for work which overlapped with the south by southwest festival ("SXSW" for those who are cooler than i). while in town, i met up with a fellow music enthusiast/bon vivant to check out some shows. we decide to hit a gay bar along the way to grab a beer and see what's happening on the dark side. "i can't go to a gay bar and not dance", says my friend. i will never pass up a dance off, so i slam my beer and get proceed to get my freak on. typical cheesy beyonce/madonna/britney/screaming diva music is blaring and we are making fun of the intense dancers around us by mocking their moves and faking enthusiasm. it was great fun. ...until i decided to try a break-dancing move that i had never attempted before. now, let me preface this by telling you that i am a pretty good dancer for a white guy. i took 4 years of jazz, taught swing/ballroom for 2 years, was on my high school step team, and i go out dancing with friends at least monthly. i have rhythm. i can dance, motherfucker. so anyway, i attempt this breakdancing move that i've seen brown people do one hundred times before. i'm pretty limber so i figure, how hard can it be? now, google and youtube have failed me in tracking down images or footage of the actual breakdance step attempted (although i did find this) so i'll try to describe it to the best of my ability:

you stand with your feet shoulder width apart. you bring your knees in close and slowly bring them down to the floor one-at-a-time and slowly bring them back up while keeping your feet at shoulders width the entire time.

well, while bringing down the first knee, my femur popped out of the socket and i fell to the floor, squirming in agonizing pain. my friend thought i was being silly and was really into whatever floor move it was that i was trying to do so i had to crawl to the nearest go-go boy platform and drag myself up for air. in equal parts laughter and pain, i hobbled back to friend's apartment.

the next day my knee looks like a grapefruit and i can barely walk. i get wheelchair service from my rental car to the airport, fly to boston, and go to the ER where i lie and tell all medical personnel that i tripped running on a trail in texas. awesome. i have some ligament damage that will supposedly heal on it's own after a few weeks of crutches/knee brace/percocet/cabernet.

that brings me to today, easter sunday. i finally have the strength to do a little walking so husband and i decide to head out to newbury street to pick up some new music and contact lenses. i'm doing the "kick and drag" all up and down the street and EVERYTHING IS CLOSED. i'm a total music fanatic and i've been waiting to get healthy enough to pick up a couple of new albums. we get to newbury comics and the goddam store is closed. i scream, "I'M SICK OF THIS FUCKING CHRISTIAN BULLSHIT" as a well-groomed catholic family of 5 scurries out of my handicapped path, clearly on their way to church.

but seriously, what the fuck easter? jesus has risen from the dead so we go to mass (1 of the 2 times per year), eat brunch with musty ol' aunt theresa, look for pink eggs in the grass, wear white hats, and stuff our diabetic children full of chocolate all in memory of the man who died for our sins? nice. i bet jesus loooves that. ahhh yes, the churchy-brunchy-chocolatey goodness that is our lord and savior.

i'm just bitter because i walk with crutches and was abandoned by my hardcore christian family. ...but they don't have painkillers, so i win.