Wedge Heels Only Offer a False Sense of Security

I'm being peer pressured into writing my foolish activities down for all to read and laugh along with me or at me. Most likely at me. Here's the tale of the night I dislocated my arm. Things like this would not happen if I were sober.


The night started off with dinner with Jen & Kelli, harmless enough. Of course I believe I may have been over served just a bit, but hey it was a hot summer night and I was thirsty. After this delightful dinner we headed over to a tent party in downtown Lowell where For Pete's Sake was playing. During our walk to the tent party I was telling about the pub crawl where Jen fell down the stairs of Pete's Pub and fell again in the alley behind the Bell. Of course it wasn't me falling on my face so the story was hilarious. Now you have to picture the dangerous streets of Lowell. No, not gangs or anything like that. Although I'm pretty sure Kelli was wearing her colors. The most dangerous thing of all, cobblestone streets and very high wedge heel shoes and me with a good buzz. FYI- The wedge heel offers that false sense of security by making you think your feet are flat on the ground. While I'm talking about Jen, boom I fall in the street my drinking buddies laugh at me. Jen tells me I'm being punished for talking about her falling. When I get up I note that my right shoulder hurts, but we continue on to the party. My right arm hangs like dead weight, how will I hold my beer? I will drink lefty. I continue to drink and the pain seems less so life is good. Jen drives me home and I'm far to drunk and lazy to change out of my drinking clothes so I sleep in them. On Sunday I wake up and to my horror I remember I am having brunch with my conservative friends at 10:00. Brunch to me means 1:00 not before noon. I attempt to get out of my drunk clothes and I can't get my arm over my head. It took the work of Houdini just to get out of those clothes, shower and put on clean clothes. I head off to brunch with my dead arm. I don't dare mention to the conservative girls that I am injured or how I have become injured. I feel they would frown upon such behavior. After the brunch I went to the hospital, it seems I have dislocated my arm. The doctor wants to know how. I tell her I fell. Now come the questions did someone push me? Was I alone? This woman thinks I am battered. I have to confess I was a drunk who fell in the street. She gave me no pain pills…bitch.