I have an aching bruise on the outside of my right leg from where I smacked it into the steering wheel getting into the Zed Three. It took some of the edge off the divot in my noggin I earned by walking into the tailgate latch of Shootin' Buddy's SUV.
Just as it was starting to fade, I added a spectacular egg on the outside of my left knee when showing my roommate how a single-point sling worked. Well, I showed her how it works for people with all the grace and deftness of Jerry Lewis having an epileptic fit.
Then last night I fell asleep reading with the pillows all doubled up under my head and now half the tendons in my neck feel like they've caught fire.
Jeeze, I feel like I've been worked over in the night by a tee ball team with aluminum bats. At least my feet don't hurt. Yet.
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19 comments:
Shit, just wait until you get old.
Assuming, of course, you survive your self inflicted injuries.
I'm surprised I have. I've accidentally stabbed myself, broken bones, set fire to myself- hell, I'm more dangerous to myself than other people could be. My best friend used to say the klutz gene didn't just RUN in my family, it trained for marathons.
I saw you carefully duck way down to back out from under the tailgate of the aforementioned SUV. I thought, "That's a move learned of painful experience" When I go bald, as I eventually will, the scars and lumps that I have accumulated will probably make me look like a cenobite.
Sounds like you're getting in some early training for the flu. I can safely assure you the little gomers with the bats step it up when you have it.
Gmac
Ouch... At least things only come in threes, and it sounds like you've already got your three!
Toss some children in the mix, and you've got my daily routine. I'm with Og on the "klutz" gene; then add to that two small persons hell-bent on injuring Daddy any way they can (rollerskates on the stairs? My kids would look on that as rank amateur)...
Bones heal, chicks dig scars, and the US has the highest doctor-to-daredevil ratio in the world.
(There is a "Simpsons" quote for every occasion...)
Tam said:"At least my feet don't hurt"
Not yet anyway....
Heat, ice--alternate every 20 min. Take some NSAIDs. That works for me when the horses have been unruly.
Let me guess--the roomie went with a double-point sling.
Bet you were wearing a Gimme cap, weren't you? Don't feel bad; I've walked into the digger bucket on my backhoe, more than once. At least the cap cushions the impact.
Some.
You might consider sticking to paintball for a while, though, until the Klutzitis runs its course. And forget chewing gum; leave the Wrigley's at home.
:-)
Art
Og - My orthopedic surgeon used to say "There is a fine line between guts and stupidity and you are playing on the wrong side of that line."
But what the hell, I outlived him.
My hair got confused several years ago and stopped growing out the top of my head. (We won't discuss where it grows from now.) Recently my preteen twins were standing behind me while I was sitting and asking where each scar came from. My dear wife was surprised at the number they found. I asked her, you've seen the rest of me, why would you think the top of my head would look any different?
Sounds like the way I normally feel when I get up in the morning. And those are the GOOD days.
welcome to middle age!! As we get older we get more of lifes little reminders of our mortality. Don't fret it just makes you more careful in the long run
Why should your feet hurt?
(Presuming you're still wearing the kind of shoes you were wearing last time I visited you)
From the late George Burns:
"When I wake up in the morning, if I don't see candles and I don't smell flowers, I get out of bed.
Owie? Stingie?
I can not, no matter how hard I strain, imagine you saying that in public.
What I can imagine is this: "Hey! I cut off a finger or two! Anyone see them rolling around here?"
Like I tell my students..... "You bleeding? No? Then shut up and get back to work".
You oughta see the cute little look of shock they get on their angelic faces when they figure out I mean it. (g).
Make the sling longer, and yes, dual point. Also, try a 2 ounce lead fishing weight with 6 or 8 inches of rawhide lace tied on for a tail. I can't always keep my shots in the black at a hundred yards, but I'll usually hit somewhere on the target frame and I'm scary deadly at 50 yards.
Now, doesn't that give you something to think about, other than the aches and pains? Something to plan for?
And listen to Somerled. Hospitals give four 250 milligram ibuprophens to people who can handle NSAIDS, then 2 more each 4 hours, until the hurt goes away or the belly says no more. And the beautiful little things work like sleeping pills for me.
I've got a map of the Nile on my bald head with 42 little dots on each side of it. I somehow managed to do that to myself by dropping a sheet of plywood.
I often tell folks that I have no interest in body art, as I get pierced and tatooed enough by accident.
The solution, of course, is to outlaw tailgate latches on SUVs. It's for the CHILDREN-er, I, mean, Tam.
Tickmeister, I figure that tattoos are for people who don't have many scars yet.
I was a volunteer firefighter for someting over six years and never got hurt on the fireground. Used to be a chemist in one place, a lab tech in a couple of others and did HazMat inventories somewhere else; never got blown up, poisoned or set on fire.
However: I once tore up a knee stomping cardboard boxes flat for recycling; had a 9 x 12 inch window pane that I was replacing chop through two tendons in my forearm; ripped open a fingertip (eight stitches) on the handle of a chicken house door.
For some reason, I imagine my old fire chief telling people, "he's OK as long as something's clearly dangerous. Just nobody give him a tea cup, 'cause somehow he'll probably manage to cut off his own head with it."
wv "avive" = living life to the fullest.
Shouldn't you have documented your silly self-inflicted injuries photographically, to share with the class?
After all, I did.
Oh, and Tam? Tune into your email for even better examples of Fun With Clumsy.
If you've not had enough fun yet, I get to tackle trimming the rose bushes this weekend. . .
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