BF: "Hunny, I need you to come pick me up, I've sprained my ankle really bad and can't walk. Just put your robe on and come get me. I'm at Grant and I-10." Me: "Ummhumm.*drool*..Ok, be right there."
So I throw my glasses, some pants, and some flip flops on and stumble out the door with the girls. As I'm driving, I'm thinking...hmm. Driving while sleepy. TOTALLY not smart..but it's all for the cause.
As I'm driving BF keeps calling.
BF: "Hungee (his pet name for me..cute, huh?), I hurt my ankle." ME: "Yes babe, we're on our way to get you. We'll be there soon." BF: "K. Bye." 10 mins later. BF: "Hungee, my ankle hurts. I hurt it. I'm at the Hampton Inn. K, Bye."
Please keep in mind this is as I'm driving in my glasses (which I never do) at 5:30 in the morning (bye bye 2 extra hours of sleep) with two dogs on my lap who love to stick their bodies out the window with one in particular who likes to bound from seat to seat. Conclusion? Death just laughing. Biding his time. Probably in my back seat.
Finally I arrive and my big 260lb boyfriend hobbles to my car...and when I say hobbles, I mean "you might as well have cut off his leg." And here's the brilliant seriously-i-can't-make-this-sh!t-up story.
He woke up this morning to get a permit for his car (just one of those 3-day permits) and he used up all of them so he couldn't drive. Our lovely POS money-sucking truck is in the shop. Again. So he decides, heck, let me walk the 15 miles to work.. oh did I mention that it's on a HIGHWAY.
So he starts walking and trips in a hole and severely sprains his ankle. So here is my poor Shrek-like BF hobbling down the frontage road. Up pulls a hippie (his words, not mine)smoking a roach and asks if he needs a ride. BF "Yes, please. I need to get to I-19 and Ajo." Roach-smoking hippie: "You're not going to hurt me, are you?" BF: "HAHAHHAHAHAHHHHAAahHahaHaaahHA. No."
She takes him a few miles down the road and that were I pick up the rest of this story. Why couldn't he call me and tell me to come pick him up when he couldn't get a ride? Because he's a tough and rugged man and he doesn't want to be one of those types of people. Sigh.
Since he's a disabled vet, he went to the VA hospital where the doc told him that he would have been better off breaking it. Nice. And that he needs to keep his weight off of it for three days. Oh, but the place to get crutches? It's closed. Nice.
Sigh. So now it's time to go pick up my stubborn old man. His requests for reducing the swelling? Chocolate. Arizona Green Tea. Cheeseburgers. Pizza. and Nuts.
:) I love him.