I remember a bone chip working it’s way free a year or so after a wisdom tooth extraction. I was so happy because the chip had begun poking through the gum and felt scratchy on the side of my tongue. I didn’t know what it was and couldn’t stop poking it with my tongue. Finally, I reached in with a finger to do some exploration and pulled it out with not really much effort at all. It was a round, plate-like chip a few millimeters across with sharp edges. It worked its way free because it was laying with the edge upright in the old tooth socket.
Blugh! Blaugh! Ugh!
Blecch! Augh! Urrrgh!!
Gag! Unnngh! Ewwww!!!
Thank you
If there’s anyone who doesn’t wear a pair of jeans twice without washing, then they’re either obsessive-compulsive or have a serious case of stank-ass that oughta be treated medically.
It was the Febreze joke that grossed people out.
Meanwhile, I’m going to put my head between my legs instead of reading the rest of this thread.
Inkleberry, you’re set for life as far as getting the kids in line is concerned…
“Novocaine? NOVOCAINE? Why, I remember once, I had a tooth out, and the dentist didn’t finish the job, so I had to go in and dig the last piece out by myself, and do you think I used novocain? No, I did not!!! Quit yer whining, you’re just getting your teeth cleaned.”
When my middle brother was about 18 months old, he swallowed a piece of Lego. I called Mom, she claimed that was impossible and told me I shouldn’t lie blah blah yadda yadda.
For the next 10 years, he had the worst tummy I’ve ever suffered. In every car trip, even if it was to go 5km in a straight line, I had to held a garbage bag for him to puke in at least once. I had nightmares about roads with curves.
Then, one day, TADAAAAA! After a birthday party where he ate way too much, he pukes in his room and out comes a Lego 3x2, only by now it was grey instead of blue.
I recall that day fondly, Mom apologized to me!
:eek: :eek:
I don’t, and I’m a college student. It’s more of an “oh, look, I wore this today, so it goes into the dirty clothes pile” kind of thing, though.
One evening when I was 16, I was sitting at my desk doing my homework. I’d started shaving during the previous year and it being evening, I could feel slight stubble on my chin. There was a small lump on my chin that itched slightly and I kept rubbing it absentmindedly. I vaguely noticed that one piece of stubble was connected to the itch. I managed to grab it with my finger nails and started tugging on it.
I kept doing that for a while without really noticing what I was doing, concentrating on the math problems in front of me. Until finally I felt a mixture of sharp pain as well as releif from the itch associated with my tugging on the hair. Of course I gave it a quick tug and yanked it out. When I brought it up to my eyes, expecting to see a short quarter inch long stubble, I was shocked to see a long tightly curled hair over 8" long!
It must have been growing under my skin since I started getting whiskers and finally punched it’s way out for me to grasp. And when I was tugging on it, I must have been working it between my fingers, pulling it out without knowing it, until finally it came to the root of the hair.
I still have a tiny lump./scar on my chin from where it came from.
My dad was a tank commander in WW2. He had his head and shoulders up out of the turrent giving directions to the driver during the Battle of the Bulge (heavy fog conditions) and a German 88 hit the front of the tank. He was lucky not to be killed, but it blew off his right ear and scarred his face badly.
He had both hands over the edge hanging on and both of them got shrapnel fragments in them. As I grew up, he would have an episode every year or two where one of those fragments would decide to come out. He’d head down to the doctor’s office and get it taken care of, then bring the “trophy” home and stash it in a jar. We found the jar in the storage locker last year. There was enough iron in there to make half a Volkswagen.
:eek:
Just… :eek:
Hah! That’s nothing! I once put my foot through an old glass window by accident. They couldn’t tell if there were shards of glass in my meats or not. So they decided to explore the muscle of my foot with a probe and sharp things. I was offered an injection of lidocaine, but the size of the needle terrified me. I said no. The doctor said no one had ever had their muscle meats laid open and poked about without it, in his experience. I still said no. Guess who cracked jokes the whole time while having her foot meats explored? Guess who disturbed the hell out of the doc?
And I can even top that! I once had a clitoral hood ring ripped out by mistake during orgasm.
Aaah! aaah! aaah! aaaaaaaaaaaaaa :eek:
That’s it, I’m out of here!
Rocketeer hold that door, I’m right behind you!
I may not have girly parts, but my manly parts have retracted in empathic self protection.
I think the “by mistake” is redundant.
I hope to GOD it’s redundant.
Ladies first! I read that, and my legs just clamped together.
I sure hope nobody jumps in to top inkleberry.
Yikes! People not even *born yet * are cringing over having rings ripped out of their hoo-has.
Since we’re in the general area, I’ll tell you about my little sister and the missing pink crayon. I was maybe four or five and upset I couldn’t find the pink crayon from my practically brand new box of Crayolas. It was no where to be found so Mom questioned my little sister.
My parents hunched over my little sister, shining a flashlight in her cootchie, trying to see if she really had hidden it there before calling the doctor, is one of my most vivid childhood memories. Really, the most freaky part is that he made a housecall and this was the early seventies. I was ticked because I was still minus a pink crayon dammit.
Also, in college I stepped on a thorn of some sort and managed to form a ball of scar tissue around it. After a few months of hobbling around, I finally got to a surgeon who dug out, thank goodness. I made a foot pearl!
Didja string it on a necklace? Or keep it in a jar about your neck a la Anegelina Jolie?