Ow. Ow. OW.

[The Curmudgeon]

It may be karma catching up with me, but I am an injured man. I slipped on a wet floor (the cleaner then helpfully placed a "Wet Floor Sign" next to me and I landed on my wrist.

One hospital visit later I've got a big support cast on my left wrist, with an upcoming MRI scan and possible Robocop style rebuilding with a metal screw put in my hand in my immediate future.

I'm used to using the internet with one hand (ahem) but it literally hurts to type. So I'll still be popping in over the next few days, but don't expect any War and Peace style essays.

All of your sympathy, guys. ALL OF IT.

[trashcanman]

You may have some of it. Only some. Get well soon, homes. One hand is not enough to take on the likes of Beiber or the Black Eyed Peas. In the meantime, enjoy your pain medication and keep an eye on the wife. They love to swipe that shit for their own devious means.

[Ben]

You can have a small amount of my limited sympathy because it doesn't sound like you were at fault with this injury. However, seeing as you probably have a bottle of hydrocodone or vicodin to enjoy now, I'm feeling more jealousy than anything else.

[The Curmudgeon]

I love the fact I get two replies, both only giving me partial sympathy.

You guys.

[trashcanman]

You were lucky to get that much. You do know your site pitch attracts the cold-blooded as a general rule, right?

[Quillford]

So THAT was that bandage was for. Here's me thinking you were doing it to get all the girls...