You Broke Your Rib Doing What?

Remember when you broke or fractured bones doing fun and exciting things like riding a bike or skiing? No more. As much as I'd like to say I was sky diving or saving a life I must humbly admit here that I fractured my rib working out. To add insult to injury (no pun intended) I was with my trainer. I know, I know save the countless jokes I've already heard about making sure NOT to hire my trainer but I promise you when I say it was only partially his fault.

The machine in question was the leg press and I was using way too much weight (yes, clearly HIS fault!). I was on my 15th rep and when I went to extend my legs I heard and audible 'pop' and felt this immense pain in my side. Not wanting to humiliate myself I bravely finished the rep then got up and, clutching my side, managed to finish my workout on the bike before heading home. The pain grew progressively worse over the next day or so finally urging me to seek medical advice. One X-Ray later I learned that the audible 'pop' had not been imagined.

The worst thing about it is the pain as there's so little you can do to minimize it and it shoots through you when you make the slightest of movements. Needless to say I'm 86'ed from the gym until further notice and as for my trainer? He feels awful but I'm keeping him.

Now if next month I break my leg then I'll reconsider....

Jay Leno ......... NOT

While it has been far too many days gone by that I've neglected my little niche' in the blogoshpere, this Princess has come to the conclusion that she'd rather make a valiant attempt at contributing when she can rather then just leave it to die a slow and utterly useless death.

So where do I begin to unravel the countless and bizarre escapades that have run circles around me over my sabbatical? All in good time. I suppose, for the sake of organization, Ill just select specific instances and bloviate about each one. Happy?

Last week I went to see Jay leno. Okay. so that's only partially true.......but let me restate a more factual one. Last week I went to see a taping of Jay Leno but thanks to crazy hoards of people with similar said reservation and insight to get there before me we didn't get in. There we were, on time, reservation in hand and melting the sweltering sun, only to be given a ticket with a three digit number and disclaimer reading something to the effect of this means absolutely nothing but wait anyway. So wait we did. And home we went....about two hours later.

Now I'd love to see a live taping. And while I'm not particularly choosy I'd much prefer to see Ellen on one of her twelve days of giveaways and go home with something other than B.O. Sorry was that a little TMI? well, you get my drift.

Next time I go for a two hour drive in suicide traffic to beautiful downtown Burbank I'm damn well getting into the taping. And if I don't? Well, maybe you read about some overheated, pre menopausal bitch screaming expletives outside while they tape.