Uncle Cracker

A.k.a. Sir Cracks-A-Lot, a.k.a. Sir Backs-A-Lot, a.k.a. MC Cracker. I am, of course, referring to my chiropractor. Yes, I have a chiropractor. As of yesterday morning I have officially been back-cracked. Why, you ask? I'll tell you. Because I'm old. Yup. 26 years old and I can't even handle the age old combination of moving houses and sleeping on an air mattress. Why the face?!

Last week my back was all ouchy-ouchy and I didn't think much of it. I figured it was a pulled muscle from moving or something and blah blah I'm a nubile young woman and I can handle it. WRONG! All of a sudden I'm doing the most boring thing in the world - sitting at my desk - and I don't want to sit anymore...because I'm old and I have back pain! ACK! Lame! That was Friday, so I went home early and laid around. Then Saturday I laid around. Then Sunday I went to church and helped out with the little kiddies cause I thought I was better. WRONG! Seriously, how old am I? Who knew you had to bend over so much and crawl around and pick things up when you're watching toddlers? Okay, I always knew, but I never paid attention. I'll tell you what, you'll start paying attention when your back is hurting. Lame!

Monday I made a decision. No more. I was going to the doctor. Please understand, I don't go to the doctor. I'm one of those people who doesn't even have whatever yearly physical/check-up thingies you're supposed to get because I can't be bothered to make an appointment. I'm that lazy. So actually calling up Bacman and making an appointment was a strong statement in my book. Don't get me wrong, I like going to the doctor's office. It usually means I can sleep in and miss part of work and read magazines I normally don't purchase for myself--no, not celebrity gossip, geez!! But whatevs. By Monday night I was having difficulty bending over the sink to brush my teeth so it needed to happen.

Tuesday morning I woke up, struggled to put my socks and shoes on on account of my old lady back, and drove to Vienna, VA, for a little chiropractor action. On a side note, when you go to anyone for a problem about which he/she knows more than you and he/she says "wow" more than once in relation to said problem, how does that make you feel? I mean, Uncle Cracker was all, "Wow, your back is really tight." I'm all, "Yup." Then he's making me lie on my side so he can crack my spine and he yanks and we hear a stream of pops from my neck to my...um...end of my spine. He says, "Whoa." I mean, if Sir Cracks-A-Lot is saying "whoa" then I must have a back in need of cracking, right??

Well you'll be happy to know that I'm fine. Nothing's outrageously wrong with ol' Backy. But this old grey mare just ain't what she used to be. Growing up. Bah! I try to reject thee but I can't! Again, don't get me wrong - I like the real world. Ergo, I generally like being an adult. I definitely like birthdays and welcome each new one with great fervor! But the part I could live without is this kind of stuff - the aches and the pains and the lower metabolism and the ever decreasing ability to stay up all hours of the night. BORING!

You know what else is boring (not really cause it's delicious) and grown up? I'm making a pumpkin pie for T-day. Yeah. Who does that? Okay, I know like a billion people do that, but I've never done it. I'm even planning on making my own crust. Don't laugh! I've made a crust before, you Doubting Thomas(es). When it happens I'm going to take a picture and post it and rub it in your face(s). Mwaaaahahahahaha!!!

So that's my Uncle Cracker story. Oh! Follow up. I'm going back on Saturday. Just to make sure things are going well. I hope he hooks me up to that electo-machine thingy again. That was cool. But I'm feeling better already. I have greater range of movement and all that jazz. I brushed my teeth last night with very little pain. Ha! What an oldie.

Bye.