Thumbs are necessary for drinking. I have learned the hard way.

I'm bitchy.

And I am guessing that doesn’t surprise anyone.

Yesterday I sprained my thumb, and until you hurt something as obscure and unimportant as your thumb you don’t realize how NOT OBSCURE AND NOT UNIMPORTANT it really is.

Did you know that you can’t hold a wine glass with a sprained thumb? I didn’t. But you can’t. And that’s just plain unacceptable I tell you. U.N.A.C.C.E.P.T.A.B.L.E.

Strangely enough, I can type. How’s that for stupid? So I can’t drink with my left hand, but I can go to work. Life just has a nice way of being a douche. Thanks Life.

I was tempted to award my lovely friend Trevor with my Monday Shank since it was his torpedo baseball that sprained my thumb, but I have to be honest here and say that it’s my own damn fault my thumb looks like an overly stuffed sausage, and not his. As a (somewhat) trained baseball player, I know that catching a ball off the side of your glove isn’t the proper technique, and really, despite the fact the thing was thrown so damn fast I doubt anyone within 5 ft even saw the fucking ball, throwing it hard is much better than throwing it rainbow-style since the object of the game is to win. Ya, who knew?

So Trevor, I am NOT awarding you with my Monday Shank. Mostly because you didn’t do anything wrong, but also cause you are big loveable teddy bear who would probably feel bad anyways if you saw my thumb today.