Kung Fu Frickler

Forced my way into the Doctor's office again
okay, I made an appointment
to figure out what I could do with my wrist, still hurting. Sharp pain up the back of the hand after my bike ride the other night. Still, with no stress fracture appearing, the doc said he read a book on sports medicine and determined I should have a splint for three weeks. He had prescribed two, but I told him my right wrist was feeling better.
After getting fitted with the thing, a black, eight-inch velcro pad that wraps around my wrist, I started regretting not getting the second one, since it would have completed the necessary symmetry for this October's Ninja Costume.
Quick check of e-mails at work before turning around and getting the branch to leave early and have a beer in honor of a guy in our office's last day. Our Deputy Branch Chief highly recommended the "Frickles" (fried pickles) and Dad Gum if they didn't taste like everything else fried you've ever had. Sort of like gooey potato chips.
Delicious, in other words.