Let's Not Do That Again Real Soon

So schwartzung and I have a mutually abusive relationship in which he tries to give me charlie horses, and I try to destroy his psyche.

Last night was full of fun, excitement, and oneupmanship. I went to the Ren, had a few beers, chatted with friends, danced my ass off to a bitchin' set (good job, schwartzung), then went back with him and Sara to his place for a bit. That's when he did a crazy dive down a flight of stairs and left me suspecting he'd broken a femur. Of course, being him, he was a total smart-ass. While he was writhing on the bed in terrible pain, he gasped for me to come over. That's when he tried to give me a charlie horse.

What do you call an apartment full of fifteen or so ERT workers in a room with a pantsless DJ? A helluva party, I guess.

No one ever sends firetrucks for me.

After several hours in emerg, he hobbled back out (no break, but a magnificent bruise of doom, and a much bigger charlie horse than he could ever hope to administer to me), I told him, "You're lucky."

"No, I'm not lucky," he said.

"Yes, you are very fucking lucky. While you were lying there, I thought about farting on your head."