Nothing makes you feel old and useless like hurting your back. For anyone who has ever injured their back I don’t have to tell you how much it sucks.

This is probably the third time I’ve really hurt my back in my entire life. The first time happened when I was in my twenties while I worked at a gas station. I pulled a muscle some place in the great plains I call my back lifting a heavy bag of change from a floor safe. I hurt it again, I guess, in my thirties. I can’t remember how, I just remember hobbling around the State Fair wishing for death. The third time was Tuesday, when I was bending down and reaching for a pan to make two of my nephews some hot dogs. Such a noble way to go, isn’t it? Hotdogs. Does it make it sound better if I play up how I had all four of my nephews at Supergenius HQ? Probably not. There’s no way around the fact that I hurt my back making hot dogs.

Since I am not at all dramatic I have diagnosed myself with some kind of rare, lower spinal muscles cancer. I spent most of New Year’s Eve on my couch moaning about my rare cancer and admonishing Sister #2 & Ben for not giving me enough sympathy. Of course, even though she’s not that kind of doctor, she gave me all kinds of medical advice like. Shut up, eat some ibuprofen, and take it easy.

I don’t handle pain well. I was told once by a dentist or a doctor or a tattoo artist that I have a very high pain tolerance. I can’t remember what prompted that comment, but I do like to parade it around in my head whenever I’m feeling actual pain. “This is real pain, clearly. It’s okay to be a big fucking baby, because I have a high tolerance for pain.”

Along with turning into a big fucking baby, I also like to laud myself on my bravery for functioning in the face of such overwhelming obstacles. No kidding, I’ve been writing my memoir “How I Came to Cope with Chronic Pain and Thrive” since Wednesday.

The worst part, even more than the constant ouch, is the fucking boredom. The inability to sit up for long periods of time make it hard to do anything. And my brain is constantly shouting “ow. ow. ow.” which makes reading virtually impossible.

So I’ve spent all day on the fucking couch intermittently napping and masturbating, which sounds like a lot of a fun, but it’s not when it’s accompanied by a constant dull ache in the muscles you use to hold yourself upright.

I always blame my aching back on being really tall. It makes sense to me, if you have a long back you have more back to hurt. Right?

Oh my god, I’m boring myself again. If I’m not better tomorrow, I’m totally getting my lower back removed.