The worst night of my adult life. No kidding.

Today is my daughter’s 28th birthday. All of her friends, and some of my wife’s friends, were invited to a club in Greenfield, WI….about 10 miles from our house.

My daughter and I don’t get along. She is of the “Self-Entitlement” generation. We owe her everything. Takes no responsibility around the house. Yes. She lives with us. Yes. She works two jobs. Yes. She lives with us.

She doesn’t help out with anything. So I get in her face. And she rips off the part of my face that is in her face. I no longer have a chin or upper lip.

I’m in the man cave, smoking and watching football when my wife walks in all dolled up. She tells me we have to go. I have to take her to the party.

“What party?” I say. She then proceeds to tell me how I was not invited. Nice.

So now my feelings are hurt. My wife says that I should come. I tell her my feelings are hurt. “I don’t wanna go.”

So I get dressed, which includes strapping my Glock .45 cal to my waist. Don’t go anywhere without it. You never know when you are overcome with the desire to rob a convenience store. Right?

In my most grumpy manner, I get dressed and we go.

We got rain today for the first time in quite a while. It melted lots of snow. And guess what? It turned a shit load of it to black ice.

Back in 2007, my wife slipped on black ice after going from the garage to the house. She is screaming in pain and I run to her thinking I ran over her putting the truck in the garage.

I do a slapstick fly into the air and fall flat on my bad back. She is screaming. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I swear I broke my back once again.
But I didn’t.

I get up and drag her out of the driveway and move her to a clump of snow. I dial 911.
The next morning, they operate and use plates, bolts, screws, yellow cake uranium, a six pack of Bud, and my left testicle to fix things in her right foot.

Back to the drive to the club….
I am given orders that after I put our truck in the garage that I must move my daughter’s giant SUV into the driveway so she doesn’t get a ticket for parking on the street. Great.

The dog is happy to see me because I was gone almost 25 minutes. So I let her out to the front yard. And by the way, we live in the last home of a cul de sac.

The whole walk to the kid’s truck is black ice. I tip toe.

I finally get to her truck, open it and try to get in. Her seat is too close to the dash and I have to go through gyrations that you wouldn’t comprehend because of my bad back to get in.

Here is what I do…I lift my left leg up and place it on the floor of the truck. I then back myself in swinging my right leg into the truck.

But my left leg slips during this operation. My right foot immediately gets caught underneath the driver’s seat and I fly backward. I end up on my back on the cold dark street with my right leg stuck underneath the driver’s seat. From my vantage point, it looks like 10”-0

I can’t move. I look like a gymnast on acid. I can barely breathe. And I can’t move. Not an iota. So I’m lying in the wet street with my back on the ground and my leg up in the air.

I can’t release my leg and I’m screaming like a little girl. I have 5 or 6 herniated discs and the worst one is the bottom last one: L5. My eyes are rolling in pain.

I start screaming for help. After about 30 seconds of this…I stop and wait and listen.

Nothing.

So I start screaming for help again.

Nothing.

Great. I’m going to freeze to death lying on my back and the coroner will laugh when they arrive on scene.
Finally, a car arrives home, two doors down, and sees me in their headlights. I begin screaming my Bar Mitzvah speech in Hebrew.

A man and his wife come over and, and get this..say “Are you OK?”
“NO! I’m not OK! Do I look OK?”
So they start telling me how rude I am.

They ask me what I want them to do?

“I don’t know…how about helping me out of this situation? Whaddya think?”

They can’t budge me and then neighbors start coming out of their houses with flashlights and now I am blinded and hear some of them laughing.
I am in dire pain. And someone is laughing.

I become an immovable object. My foot is really jammed.

A few minutes later, I hear sirens. Oh no.

Four fire trucks and a paramedic bus show up. Now every fucking neighbor is out of their house and watching.
I am wearing a Tee shirt and a heavy jacket. The Glock is under the Tee shirt. Oh no.

I tell the firemen I am armed. 90% of the neighbors run away. And two of them fall in the street. I can hear them screaming.

After 15 minutes, the firefighters get my leg free. And the paramedics come over and put a neck brace on me. I scream that my neck is fucking fine. It’s my goddam back!!!

I order them to stand me up. They comply. I’m bent over like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

One of the firefighter graciously moves the truck into the driveway. And they help me into the house.

I forgot an important part of the story. The dog was outside with me. When I started screaming, she came over to me and wants to play. She starts rough housing with me and hitting me with her front paws.

We get into the house, I sit down on the couch and the dog is playing with all of the firemen. I am sitting there by myself while the friendly firefighters are playing with my dog.

“LEAVE! Thank you very much but I’m fine. I’ve got drugs!”

They comply.

Now I am sitting in the hunched position writing this. I took 43 Vicodin and they are beginning to take the edge off.

When I tell my wife about this, here is what will happen. My wife loves to laugh at me when I hurt myself. So by the time I finish the story, she will be doubled up and won’t be able to breath from laughing.

Happy Birthday Katie.

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