Boob injuries and butt grabbing!

I'm baaack. (Creepy Carol Anne's voice)

Went to a new bar that opened on Freret Street this week called the Public House. It should be called "where drunk Bama fans go to hoard bar stools" since that's what happens there.

But they have lots of beer on tap and the newest NoLa trend which is to install those crappy daquiri machines but fill them with "craft" ingredients and charge $35 for one "craft cocktail." It's uber trendy and cool. And they taste like daquiris, so that's a bonus.

I moved into an apartment with my little sister and so far we've only had one screaming fight. Buddy! took her side and slept with her that night. Little traitor. So I threw away his Jazz Fest mini-frisbee. I actually feel kinda bad about that.

On Sunday I had a 2-and-a-half hour marching practice for The Cherry Bombs since Mardi Gras is coming up! And this is what happened: The following evening I suddenly had what felt like a cramp in my chest. And it hurt every time I laughed. Then it progressed to hurting when I moved. That night I couldn't sleep on my left side.

So I'm thinking, "Really, I'm going to have a heart attack? What kind of s*#tty luck can one person have?" The next morning I have an early appointment and I can barely focus because my chest hurts so bad. And I'm googling things like "heart attack signs in women" and "chest pains on left."

So I run through the list of doctors I know - radiologist, no; dermatologist, no; pathologist, uh no; psychiatrist, maybe! - but then I remember I know a family doctor. So I call him and literally say, "I have pain in my left boob." And he's like does it hurt when you move or press on it? Yes. What exercise have I been doing? Marching practice and boxing. And yes, I wear a 2-pound men's watch on my left wrist.

I'm a genius.

He prescribes laying off the upper-body exercise for a few days. That night my sister and I are supposed to have a training session since she's a workout guru. I tell her I'm not supposed to do arm workouts. And she's like, "Can you do push-ups?" And I'm like, "sure!"

And so my b#*b injury has taken longer to heal than I expected.

But tonight we're going to Channing Tatum's bar Saints and Sinners. My friend L is in town and when I told her, she was like "Can I grab his butt?" And I was like, "hells yeah!"