"Crippled like your Economy"

Sunday night i sprained my ankle. i was attempting to return to some girl her ATM card, and instead tripped, fell into her, and shattered my theory that i was, in fact, so awesome that i was invincible. The woman (her name was Sarah) and my good buddy, Mary, both asked me if i wanted to go to the hospital, but i abstained courteously because i am just simply too manly. i mean, c'mon, i have a beard!

After i got back to my dorm, three more people asked me if i wanted to go to the hospital, and i submitted. i called up my heterosexy friend, Nick Elmer, and asked him to come with me on an adventure to the hospital. We ate Milanos and talked to the guard on duty... for two hours.

But this is not the point which i wish to convey, only the backdrop. Although, i do want to take the time to say that Nick Elmer is really, really, really cool, sexy, friendly, funny, and loyal. i love him. BUT MOVING ON: i got my foot/ankle area wrapped up, and was given a handy, dandy set of crutches. i have been using them to get around campus for the past few days. One thing i noticed was that just about every... oh tenth person or so, upon seeing the crutches, asked me what had happened, if i was alright, etc. Then they gave me advice like "don't walk on it for a while!" or "make sure you ice it too." This advice, although well intentioned, was completely unneeded.

Today i stopped using the crutches, starting after i got back from class. i get enough support on my ankle from some sort of plastic/goo cast which i obtained on Monday. i can get by without the crutches... although i do walk kinda funny. But here is something that i noticed: people don't ask questions any more. i am still visibly unwell (i walk like a speedy zombie!), but now people don't know if it is a temporary injury or a permanent one. Perhaps i was born like this? Maybe i was in a tragic accident? But now you don't want to know. What is it about the crutches that makes you comfortable with asking me about my personal life?