How many rock critics does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
Two: One to write a bloated review of the new Green Day record; one to fall and crack his ribs.
Unfortunately, the second one is me.
Went like this: Saturday night I left the Squirrel Hill Little League field and stopped at home before planning to head to the Arena to watch the Pens on the big screen. First, I decided to change the lightbulb on the front porch, using a wobbly IKEA stool. I succeeded in changing the lightbulb! Then the stool gave way and I flew up in the air, landing squarely on the wooden legs.
My 5-year-old, the only with me at the time, watched in horror as I crawled into the house gasping for air.
Anyway, would you believe the South Side Emergency Room doesn't have Versus? We had to get game reports from a worker there following it on the computer. Pens won!
So, now, for the soul-crushing pain, I'm on Percocet the last four days, which is a bipolar experience. Since this a music blog, I'll give you one highlight. Riding my 13-year-old son's bike down the Jail Trail Wednesday morning to work just after a dose shouting along to Rancid's "And Out Come the Wolves" on the iPod (I never said I was responsible).
I think that's my favorite of the '90s pop-punk records. Maybe even better than "Dookie." Sorry, Green Day.