, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

After one whole not-even-very-big glass of Alize last night, I had the following exchange with my friend, who has also dealt with chronic pain, via text:

ME: I’m a ninja gladiator. Thought you should know. I might also be drinking. Oh, and it’s 11:11. Make a wish.

HER: What do ninja gladiators drink? Bourbon, I presume.

ME: Tonight they drink Alize.

HER: Is that something autocorrect made up or is it a real drink? It sounds like a combo of Aleve and Zima.

ME: Real drink. Passion fruit infused vodka. Yummy and sweet but it miraculously doesn’t turn my stomach.

HER: That’s not miraculous, that’s ninja.

ME: But I’m hoping it works like a mix of Aleve and Zima. Having a fibro/arthritis flare from the cold, wet weather, I think. Numbing my body after holding out for several days with only the Aleve.

Hence the fact that I’m a ninja gladiator. I could fight lions with shot in my system.

Shit, not shot. Not really a shot kind of drink.

This shit. Good lord.

HER: Clearly not a grammar ninja right now.

ME: Grammar gladiator? I take grammar on and kick its ass until it dies a horrible death.

Also, autocorrect didn’t like “ass” at all. Clearly, I don’t text that word enough.

HER: Ass.

ME: Ass ass ass ass ass ass. Lion dead.

Fuck autocorrect. It tried to turn all of those into “assets.” But I insisted strongly-er.

S just said “floaters” and I laughed and then had to explain why that was funny.

HER: If you were up here in Boston, you’d be a ninja-cicle by now. You should make up a ninja rap.

ME: I like Alize and I cannot lie…

I just tried to rhyme “frozen” with “lederhosen.” ‘Nuff said. I should probably not have any more to drink.