One run and done

friday night was a bloodsoaked clusterfuck.after numerous signs that we shouldn't have gone snowboarding, such as..

1. i had a throbbing headache on the ride to craigs
2. the store that i usually get my fruit punch rockstar was totally out of everything but monster, which tastes like sprite mixed with elf jizz.
3. craig almost put the bindings on the wrong feet.
4. the gps sent us up the equivalent of an abandoned logging road for a 25 minute detour
5. craig lost his glove liner in the parking lot.
6. my fucking binding strap broke and i went down the mountain with only one foot strapped in.
so we decided to take a walk to the car so i could fix my snowboard.

i lost my balance. didnt fall very hard, and i put my hand out to catch myself on the wooden railing.i looked down at my hand and saw that i was FUCKING COVERED in blood. apparently i hit a bolt sticking out the back of the rail, and it fucking fileted my hand.i now had a large, menstruating hand-gina. long story short ,7 stitches i spent 4.5 hours at the hospital in leominster, with some guinea security guard with an old-timey mustache and a bad attitude.upon arriving back to the chiacchieri homestead, i was promptly greeted by my fuel light coming on as soon as i started the car. after driving 5 minutes out of the way to find a gas station in wrentham,(which was fucking closed) i decided to just wing it. i drove home very slowly , and coasted in neutral alot. i puttered into my driveway @ 3am with zero gas in my tank.

moral of the story

listen to your wife,dont listen to the gps