Doc, there's something wrong with my shoulder

That was a good game on Sunday. I must confess that I stopped watching it half way thru because I didn't think NY had a chance. Later on tho I was surprised to find out that the Rangers came back from a three goal deficit to beat the Canadiens 5-3. Spent that evening shoveling snow and screwing up my left shoulder. My drinking shoulder. Usually it wouldn't bother me, I'd just whip out the crazy straw, sit back and relax. But this weekend I'm going to Flag for Barley Wine Fest. I was hoping to reek some havoc but if I don't heal quick I'll be relegated to just reeking.

Believe it or not this isn't the first time I injured a shoulder. Back in '92 I had a slight mishap. For some reason I decided to start the day early, left work at 10:00 picked up a pint of Old Crow and sat across the street at Hawthorne park waiting for my friend Matt to get off of work. 11;30 rolls around and we hit up Round Table pizza for beer and maybe something to eat. A few hours later its time to go, so I hop on my bike and hit the trail. No really, I hit the trail. To this day I don't know what happened I just remember flipping over the handlebars and then opening my eyes and seeing the sky, back on the dirt. So with my right arm hanging a little low I ambled on home.

I was supposed to meet good ole Sophia Butler later that day, which I did. She, Matt , and myself were at Mr. Smiths. In constant pain Sophie kept insisting that I go to the hospital. I didn't want to go because we were planning on watching the Bob Dylan 30th anniversary concert. We went back to her apartment and were watching the show when I was either in enough pain or she got me drunk enough to go see a doctor. Now when I drink I can get either gregarious or boisterous .
I was feeling friendly that night, and whenever Sophie had her back turned I was off to see the nurses, filling them in on all the medicinal benefits of marijuana. Some exrays and a prescription and we're on are way to Fred Meyers. As she was leaving to go into the store to get the meds she turned and looked at me, and just like a mother, shaking her finger said "STAY IN THE CAR".

I was doing alright until Bob came out (the concert was radio simulcast) and did "Its Alright Ma".
I was out in the parking lot dancing around, arms flailing about. Out walks Sophie. Holy cow! what a look. Not a word was spoken, but like a beaten puppy I was back in the car. The next morning I was sitting on the front porch when guess who pulls up. I had a tumbler full of vodka, pain killers, pot, and a cigar all spread out beside me. "Don't you ever learn?" She gave me a book, "True happiness, how to find it" or something of the like. I was expecting a book full of reflective pages displaying my smiling face, but no, all words.

A week later we were lying on my bed and the phone rang. It was one of the nurses. Would I like to speak at a public forum on the legalization of weed. No, she ask if anyone had informed me that I had broken my clavical. Oh, is that what that clicking is? In time I recovered. As for Sophie she may say she has too, but I'm still on my first last name, she's on her third.

Just messin with you Soph.