My brother did something like this. It didn’t work out quite as nicely as yours. We had blood splattered across the kitchen…
And makes their sperm stronger too. so it can reproduce the next level of DARWIN WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Dude. Dude… Oh My God… where is the cringing smiley when you need one? :: gulp ::
No guy in the world even wants to hear the words Bleeding and Nutsack in the same sentence.
You must grocery shop a lot differently than me (err… my wife). There’s no way I’m leaving $300+ of groceries anywhere.
Or manage to reproduce with the damage they do to their tender parts.
My son was about five. We’d been hitting baseballs outside - Mom’s the pitcher. He comes in with the bat in his hand. The bat is a little less than waist high. He decides to sit on it by angling the bat in front of him on the floor and levering himself up.
I watch it happen, horrified, in slow motion, and yet its happening too fast, I’m powerless to stop it…
My son turns white (amazing since his is Korean and rather dark skinned), his eyes get huge (again, not the normal state for my son), his mouth makes a little O, and he falls over.
And I can’t help it. I start laughing. I’m a bad mother with no sympathy.
Unless you are my college roommate my freshman year. He came home drunk from a frat party, needed to take a dump and decided in his drunkenness to light a fart while sitting on the toilet.
We dragged his still-smoking ass into the emergency room where the doc took one look at him and said, “Lit a fart, didn’t he?”
We owned up and told him the details. He shook his head and said, “Eighth one this week…”.
I was once a young HS teenager trying to impress older teenagers at a college party (I got better…). The event of the guys of the day was to drink flaming shots of whiskey. Being young and [del]stupid[/del] adventurous, I volunteered for the next round. I only made one mistake. OK, two if you count being at a party with older kids. Three, if you count underage drinking. Four, if… but I digress.
My biggest mistake was to have hiccuped during the swallowing of flaming alcohol.
cue CSI graphic of a fire-ball following the path of O2 up, around and through my nasal cavity to the only exit to air it could find. :eek:
Now, to be fair, the college kids were fairly impressed. None of them had ever shot fire out of their noses, and I enjoyed a few seconds of semi-anesthetized fame as a real HTG fire-breathing high schooler.
But there are some important things to remember:
*No matter what gender you are, there is hair up your nose.
*Hair does burn.
*I don’t like the smell of burned hair, especially when its me.
*There is nothing (and I do mean Nothing) up your nose or throughout the inside of your nasal cavity that likes being burned. Ever.
For the next few days, it literally hurt to breathe, and there was nothing I could do but just let the angry raw burned nerve endings heal.
PS- if you want to feel 1/10,000th of what I felt, pull just One hair out of your nose. I’ll wait.
I’m pretty sure I’ve told this before, but: once I was cooking hamburger patties or something else with a lot of grease. As soon as I took the meat off of the skillet, I decided to go ahead and get rid of the grease so it didn’t harden. I had always seen my dad use a coffee can to catch grease (never to be poured down the kitchen sink). But I didn’t have an empty coffee can handy. What else could I find to catch the grease and then thow it away? Ah, here are some large-sized styrofoam cups!
So there I am holding the styrofoam cup in one hand, and a skillet full of still broiling hot grease in the other. In the next moment, I learned that hot grease melts styrofoam immediately on contact. All over my hand.
I was a teenager, was gonna cook me a hamburger. I put the meat in the pan, turned on the stove, and went to get the worcestershire sauce out of the pantry. When I turned back, I noticed that the pan was sitting unevenly. The edge of the electric burner was not fully down in that little slot. I removed the pan and pressed my hand down on the burner to fix it. I had just turned it on, it couldn’t possibly be more than warm, right?
The circular burn marks on my palm and fingers lasted quite some time as a testament to my stupidity.
The only one I can think of offhand was when I was little, Dad was under the hood tinkering with our car’s engine, and I was inside the car. I thought it would be funny for everyone if I honked the horn. Unfortunately for me, I neglected to lock the doors.
But this seems a good place to plug my friend’s book, The Man Who Scared a Shark to Death and Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery. Full of tales like these in this thread, including one reminiscent of the OP, in which a man gets his testicles caught in a mouse trap not once, but twice! It happened once in his younger days during some tomfoolery, then again in later years as he attempted to show someone exactly what he’d been doing the first time around. 
Many years ago I had a pet rainbow boa that escaped from its cage. I searched for it but could not find it, and I assumed it had found a way to escape from the house. It was a juvenile, about two feet long. About two months after the snake disappeared, my wife and I were watching television in our living room when the boa crawled out from under the sofa. I happily picked up the snake and resumed watching television with the snake in my hands on my lap. No, my testicles do not enter into this narrative.
The next thing I was aware of was intense pain in the area of my nose. I should mention at this point that rainbow boas have heat-sensing pits along their lips, eat warm-blooded prey, probably birds, and have long teeth that curve back. The boa had decided that my nose was prey and struck it. It had managed to grasp my septum; its upper jaw was in one nostril, and its lower jaw was in the other. That area is not only sensitive; it is also supplied with lots of blood vessels close to the surface. I was in pain and bleeding a lot.
I was faced with a touchy situation. If I just yanked the snake out of my nose, I would probably tear my nose up pretty badly. I couldn’t do what I had done in the past when I had a snake or a lizard biting me that wouldn’t let go: stick it under water. The snake would almost certainly outlast me at holding its breath. What I ended up doing was grasping the snake’s upper and lower jaws, pulling them slightly further apart and pushing them a little deeper into my nostrils to free the teeth, then pulling the snake out of my nose.
I was able to do this without harming the snake and without getting blood anywhere but on my clothes. I put the snake into a new, improved cage and administered some first aid to my nose, then went back to watching TV.
What do you call that instantanious moment in time where, you decide to do something and know you shouldn’t have?
I bought a jaccard to tenderize our sirloin steaks with. I used the jaccard to tenderize the steaks with. I cleaned the jaccard that I tenderized the steaks with. Hmmm, I wonder if those 21 razor sharp, guillotine blades in the base are clean? I’ll just turn it upside down and press here to see them! Wonder why both of my thumbs are bleeding profusely from little slices?
Since this is my zombie thread, here’s a Caribbean story.
A friend of mine was working in Trinidad in a field station. On Friday nights he would go to the local bar and, after a few beers, show off by drinking flaming rum shots. One day he was out in the field and stopped into the bar in the middle of the day for a drink of water and to make a phone call. The bartender sees him, and calls over a couple of friends, and introduces my pal as the white guy who drinks the flaming rum. Bartender then offers up a flaming shot. My friend usually does this in the evening after a few drinks, but he gives it a try. He’s a bit nervous, so his hand shakes and he pours burning alcohol down his face and neck. It’s an alcohol flame, and hard to see in daylight, so the bartender’s friends get to watch him set himself on fire and attempt to beat himself out. They apparently thought it was a great trick.
This is the same guy who one showed up at work with a triangular red mark on his forehead - I asked ‘What, did you iron your head?’ - He had, attempting to steam-straighten a curl.
I believe that is the ignesecond
I thought it was a good idea to make the gears of my blender to mesh by holding the blade with one hand and turn the blender on briefly.
I was out of town at with some friends is a hotel room, got good and drunk. I proceed to rant about some nonsensical thing (as i’m apt to do while messed up) flop down onto a bed, bounce off the bed and land between the bed and the wall, and cannot get my bearings get up. the friends in the room all begin to laugh as i lay in the small space like a turtle on its back begging for help. after someone Finally takes pity on me and gives me a had, a couple more friends come into the room, wondering why everyone is howling with laughter. i proceed to slur my way through an explanation as i demonstrate my way through my previous actions, flop myself onto the bed, and get stuck again. Finally i drunk stumble my way out and crawl up wall to right myself as one of my friends looks into the space i previously occupled, remarking thatt it looks like i had dropped some money. I proceeded to look down, lose my balance and fall into the space face first. at that point i said fuck it, and went to sleep on the floor, face down.
Great stories, and it’s interesting how so many of them involve alcohol in some way.
So here’s mine: I was at a hash, it was Memorial weekend and I was at a campout weekend outside of Atlanta. At some point during the night, someone pulled out some long plastic and proceeded to hose it down with a little soap to make it nice and slick. A lot of half-minds were enjoying the slip and slide, and I was among them. I had several successful slides already and got a good run and did it once again, only this time I felt this “thunk” on my leg. I tumbled a bit, got up and looked at the inch-long gash in my left upper thgh. It was deep, but not bleeding a whole lot, interestingly enough. We couldn’t tell what I hit, whether it was a rock or a root, but it took a decent chunk out of my leg.
Some people around me said that I should go to the hospital for stitches, but I was fresh out of the Army, in college, and completely without any insurance. And of course I had a few beers, so it never felt too bad anyway.
Did I mention that I was completely naked at the time? Thinking back on it, I was only a few inches away from having something a little more important to me than my thigh get cut. I’m talking about my penis.
And I still have the scar, of course.
In jr high gym class, we played tennis for about a month. I was getting pretty good at it, and at the end of an important win, I felt that my practice on the hurdles on the track were proof that I could hurdle the tennis net in celebration.
I was probably right.
I distinctly recall starting to make the jump, then thinking ‘Ok, this probably isn’t a good idea, I might get into trouble’. Which would have been a fine thought if I’d had it before I was a few feet in the air.
Feet into net, face and shoulders into concrete, and one young Taomist on the way to the hospital for her first time.
Where’s the d’oh! emote?!?!
30-odd years later, I’m still mostly pissed because I COULD HAVE MADE IT!!
Stupid brain.