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Shins Are For the Weak

Within the past few months I’ve made a seriously bad error in judgment; I started playing racquetball. And I love it. You know who doesn’t love racquetball? My shins.

My shins hate the game so much that they furiously complain, sometimes for days at a time, any time I’ve played. Yes and my shins seem to complain SO much that my ankles and feet throw in a little latter too. I think they get annoyed by how much the shins complain and misery LOVES company so they just go along for the ride. My knees occasionally complain but not too loudly or for too long. On rare occasion that asshole, my back, has to jump on board as well. Jerk.

I’m convinced that if my shins would STFU everyone else would too. Stupid shins. If they didn’t force my knees and ankles to work together to keep my fat arse several feet above the ground at all times I’d just be through with them all together.

Well some how we’ll have to come to some agreement cause I’m not quitting racquetball. Unfortunately I fear that agreement is that as long as I play, my shins will scream. Stupid shins.

Shins are for the weak.

© 2010, Joe Little. All rights reserved.

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