What’s the difference between Ramblings and Personal?  I am about to ramble about my gimp ankle, but it’s also personal because it is my personal ankle.  Anyway, so I hate being a gimp.  I twisted my ankle while stepping off the curb Wednesday and now I am in an air cast and have a limp.  And I have to wear tennis shoes for the next week and a half, so people at the wedding tomorrow will probably think I am just rude.  Oh, and you cannot sign my air cast because it’s really not a cast, it’s more like a giant splint.  And I feel guilty bitching because I saw a guy today who had a gimp leg AND he was blind.  And I’m just a gimp.  I think I’m going to invent a cool story so I can sound like a badass.  The true story is that I was running an errand for work and stepped on my foot wrong and it went completely sideways and I heard a pop and I fell to the ground in excrutiating pain and dragged myself to the sidewalk (on 6th street, eww) and it was right in front of the creepy bus stop and these guys who only spoke Spanish tried to help me, but then this woman who spoke English kept mashing on my knee and i was like, “it’s my ankle.” So she started mashing on that and I was like, stop it hurts and so this other, sane, cool woman let me borrow her cell phone and offered to get me an ambulance and my boss sent two knights in shining armor from work to help me across the street and the Downtown Rangers came and someone told them I got hit by a car and they wanted to get me an ambulance, but I wouldn’t let them.  And at work people wheeled me around and got me lunch and brought me ice and they were nice to me and then my ankle swelled up and got blue in one part and sort of a pinkish red in another and I went to the doctor and they took an xray, but I didn’t get the “reproductive organs” protective apron, I just got a little plaque-like thing and so my babies will probably have three heads and ten eyeballs and all because I’m a klutz that can’t walk across the street.