Or pee on it, if you want to know the truth. Since about two weeks ago, every time I have to go to the bathroom, my brain doesn't tell me until the absolute last minute and I have to run (generally to the toilet, but sometimes to a nearby SUV) in order to keep myself from wetting my pants. I've looked this up on the internet and apparently it's something that happens to old women, which, as of a week ago, I am. Not only is MY body no longer under warranty, but Levi's compacted two of his lower vertebrae, squished most of the jelly out, and he's been hobbling around like an old guy with a big box of radio parts on his back. I won't include a photo of my urine-stained underwear, but here's Levi's x-ray:
You can see how there are black spaces (jelly) between all the vertebrae until you get to the bottom where the jelly's off the the side with a slice of toast (toast doesn't show up in x-rays, dummy). This lack of jelly means I've been Levi's bitch for the last few days. And if you want to know the truth again, I don't really mind it. As long as he keeps smacking my ass every time I fetch the ice pack. Despite the extra laundry and the pain-relieving gels, being broken can be very sexy.
As a side note, I hate you Mattress King kid! Nobody beats the king. But could somebody please put a smack down on the pimply kid who does his commercials?
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