Broken jaw email

After receiving some compliments about this email, I finally decided to dig it up from dust-covered ciber archives. Everyone was quite kind, and some people even forwarded this to other friends who didn't even know me--all of whom were laughing with me, not at, of course.
So here is the entire, unabridged, percocet-induced email:

All right, so here is the deal. I broke my jaw and it hurts to talk, or I would call y'all individually, but here is the story.

I was riding my bicycle at exceedingly break-neck speeds coming off of the Washington Avenue bridge when some Russian doofer (who I later found out had a really hot mom - neither here nor there) pulled out in front of me on his two-wheeler - I'm pretty sure he got his training wheels off the week before - going perpendicular to me and completley cutting me off. So, the combination of a side rail to my left and right, biking at mach chico, and duder's bonehead move left yours truly with truly limited options. I decided that it was inevitable that I hit him, so I braced for impact and tried to roll like James Bond. When I got up I discovered that his head and the pavement prohibited me from rolling exactly like James Bond, and this kid was bleeding everywhere; literally spraying blood from his head. I felt like my back right molars were about an inch closer together than they should have been. I gallantly took no concern of my malocclusion and immediately tended to my scalp-wounded, bad-biking, Kosik comrade who was very shook up. AFter he was secured and in the ambulance, the police said I could either walk the mile to Fairview Hospital, or pay $800-1000 dollars to take the short trip in style with all the flashy lights. I decided to take the walk—really just to clear my thoughts and enjoy the beautiful weather more than anything else. So, I get there, get checked in by a large skin-head who I now know has done blow off of a hooker's ass (again, neither here nor there), and got into the radiology department to have them tell me what I told them two hours earlier: my jaw is probably broken just below my chin on the left side, and in the middle of the condyle (the sticky-uppy part that points at your ear) on the right side. Super. Even more super was the Percocet they put me on. I then took a nice, leasurely, leave of reality for about 12 hours and got picked up by my mother to go shopping for cheeseburgers (the kind you can drink through a straw), and then it was off to surgery where there was the possibility of missing teeth, severed facial nerves, and awfully tight wires. Turns out the team of three incredibly talented women surgeons opted for three titanium plates and avoided all that, and after 3 hours of marathon surgery (the procedure usually takes about 1), I was sick from the anesthesia, but nearly good as new. After a little "Walker, Texas Ranger" and "Cops" recovery time, I sit in Wisconsin typing to you, dear reader, citing a broken jaw for broken engagements and communications. So, I just wanted to let you all know what happened without having to repeat this 20 times through a rubber-banded, still-broken-in-two-places jaw. I love you all, and seriously, if anyone can figure out how to make cheeseburgers and frozen pizza part of a "liquid diet," I would be forever in your debt, and would probably give you some Percocet for your trouble.

Sincerely,

-Craigo Roto

p.s. The jaw bra goes around my chin and applies ice. Clever name. and yeah, I've gotten more than enough crap between that, those stupid tights they make you wear, and the ass-exposing hospital gown (it's not a dress, thank you very much).