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Well, numb until the seering black pain of my ankle ligament twisting brought an end to the blissfully unaware numbness.

Yelling "Oh shit!" in the middle of a tiny small-town diner where many little old ladies are enjoying their onion rings? Probably not a good way to entice the diner to send a regular supply of Jumbo Burgers to my doorstep an hour away.

The good: After lunch I had a meeting with the editor of the new print edition of Arch City Chronicle. You see, they have hired me to write restaurant reviews for them. So go subscribe, okay?

Anyway, we were meeting at a local coffeehouse to discuss the particulars. Very cool. Totally different than my last professional magazine writing experience, which makes me very happy.

Over the past few weeks I've emailed with the editor and sent quite a few clips of my writing, but I never mentioned my blog. I mean, if you were trying to get a job, would you send the URL to your expletive-filled verbal vomitting recepticle? Of course not. But someone directed him to my blog.

"And you still want to hire me? Really?" I asked.

I present to you, the opposite of "dooced". I have been "poppied" - hired because of my blog.

The bad: Of course, I was a bit off-kilter when I arrived at the coffeehouse. I had just driven 45 minutes with a very sore ankle, and I was facing, essentially, a job interview, even though I'd already been offered the job. The coffeehouse is in a residential neighborhood with off-street parking. I arrived just in time for my meeting, parked, and hobbled to the meeting spot.

I had been at the coffeehouse for the exact amount of time it takes to make a latte - five minutes, tops - when a man stuck his head in the door and annouced, "Does someone here drive a green Ford truck?" I immediately stepped up and said that I do. "It's blocking my driveway."

I apologized profusely and immediately - immediately - darted out the door to fix the situation. I admitted that I made a stupid, careless mistake by accidentally blocking three feet of his driveway, and hopped fast to rectify the situation. All while the offended party stood in his yard, snarking, "You can't tell me that you didn't notice you parked in front of my driveway. Surely you're not that stupid."

He continued slinging insults my way the whole time I was moving my truck until finally, I got out of my truck, stood in the middle of the street and screamed, "I am so, so, so sorry for the awful, horrific mild inconvenience I have thrust upon you. I hope to God you're able to recover from my terrible oversight!" before storming back to the coffeehouse.

Well, storming back as well as my grapefruit-sized ankle would allow. The guy wasn't even going anywhere, nor did he have someone trying to park in his driveway.

And can I just say that I really hate myself when someone's being an asshole and I can't resist the urge to stoop to his level? I would have loved to have done some awful things to this guy. I really would have. And that makes me feel sick.

I just don't get people. I really don't. Yeah, I know I'd be pissed if someone blocked my driveway. It's happened before. I also know that when I ask the person to move the car and they're apologetic and willing to do so, I don't stand in my yard and hurl insults at the person.

So, good: awesome lunch with great friends, and a fab new job.

And bad: I can't walk and my faith in humanity has taken another blow.

Seems like a fair trade-off.