Cloris Leachman Is My Goddess
So I woke up early, tooled around the ‘tubes, answered a couple of phone calls and then had a charley horse.
HOLY CRAP!!
I can’t recall ever having one of those before. I was ready for my impending death. I thought I was a goner.
The beauty of this is that I live with a sports editor. She did some hoodoo mojo on my leg she had learned from the physical trainers on the sidelines, told me to calm down and make the dogs quit crying (Mabel was crying at least, trying to get in my lap as I shouted obscenities.)
She then told me to eat a banana. As I think bananas are the worst food possible in the world and make me gag when I eat them, I decided to just throw myself into the road as potential roadkill.
Now I’m limping around like an idiot.
Cloris Leachman is in better shape than I am. And as someone who has never watched Dancing With The Stars, I have been watching her hijinks on YouTube.
So if you see me puttering around today, whining, there is a reason. Not a good one in all honesty but it’s mine.
Cloris Leachman rules.
I thought she kicked ass on that comedy central Bob Saget roast.
You weenie. The reason you’re supposed to eat bananas is because they’re high in potassium, which helps with cramps. Drink a bit more water or gatorade than normal, and pop a potassium pill or two and you’ll be fine.
Lee, bananas are the bastard fruit of existence.
Yes, I am a weenie.
Cloris has always been a breath of fresh air.
Wait till a calf cramp wakes you out of a deep sleep. The question for me when that happens is whether I still have enough slightly higher brain function left to say obscenities instead of just “ow, ow, ow, ow.”
One word of advice: DO NOT point your toe. Flex it.