I broke my fucking toe. The small one. You know, the one on the outer end of my foot that stays snuggled in it's own compartment in socks and shoes because it's shorter. It was made this way to SPECIFICALLY KEEP THIS SHIT FROM HAPPENING.
My baby toe is so small, I can't even paint the damn toenail on that one. I just kind of swipe some polish over the skin to give the impression of a toe nail. It's that fucking small.
But, I digress.
Now, I know you are thinking this has something to do with Jillian Michaels the Wii, and the ever graceful, exercising Dutchess, huh? Well, asshats, you would be wrong.
Last night I took an Ambien, tried to lay on my bed and will myself to sleep. Every fucking bone, muscle and hair on my body hurt from my brilliant fucking idea of doing a work out with that minion of Satan, Jillian, and the Wii.
The Duke was sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. He rolled the upstairs computer toward him and away from the wall so that he could surf for porn while I was wallowed in my misery.
I mumbled at him to make sure he pushed the damn desk back so that it was flush with the wall when he was done. Of course, he assured me he would. After the incident, he totally declared his innocence in the matter.
Seeing as how this tragedy wasn't the Duke's fault, I've come up with my own theory:
The asshole dog purposely moved the desk because he's still pissed that I had his goddamn nuts cut off. The end.
That makes sense, doesn't it?
As I stumbled to the fucking bathroom in the middle of the night, my toe hit the fucking wheel on the bottom of the desk. I heard an eerie crunch and then a high pitched whistling sound. As it turns out, the whistling sound was my brain informing my toe that it was seriously fuuuuuuucked up.
As I fell to the floor in a fetal position, I whimpered, "But, I don't need more fucking blog material."
The dog sashayed in and licked my damn nose.
"Go away, stupid fucking dog," I choked though angry tears. "Get out of my fucking room. Do something useful and go fetch me a goddamn Corona. My foot is broken."
It could have been the goddamn Ambien I took before bed but, I swear, he laughed. It sounded just like that evil cartoon dog Muttley. Then he said, "Lock your door, you dumb bitch. There's more where that shit came from."
My dog is trying to fucking kill me and frame my husband.
Just another fucking day in the life of your Dutchess.
OH OH OH OH AND GUESS WHAT? Dame Penis Platter and her Sir rock my fucking world. They made me something that will solve my exercise problem and make my ass smaller. You can read about it HERE . Don't forget to leave a comment and tell them how fucking brilliant they are.