This morning as I lay in bed, I saw a giant puff of cat hair float by my face just before I managed to inhale it.
That was three hours ago.
I’m still coughing.
Beat that.
hehe. A couple years ago I was doing surgery on a dog, talking with my daughter, answering the receptionist’s questions, planning my dinner, etc. As I turned from my surgical pack to my patient, someone cut in front of me and I sliced the back of my hand open with my scalpel. A nice, clean, long laceration that I had to get sutured closed at the local ER. Many of the doctors/nurses are clients, so there was a lot of good natured joking. I felt stoopid.
So I’m in this show.
I have a bit with another actor where we’re tug of warring and she lets go and I fall. I don’t know how I manage to pinwheel the same arm she was holding back fast enough to fall on it, but I’ve sprained my wrist by doing just that.
Twice.
And then I fell down a flight of stairs. Onto the same wrist, whose brace I had taken off because it looked funny under my costume.
(I am afraid to tell my doctor about this last one. )
I have a feeling this thread is going to involve me trying to hide a lot of guilty chuckles. 
I’m walking down the hall with a pen in hand. I notice my shoelace is untied. I put the pen in my mouth and kneel on one knee to tie it. As I lower myself into position the knee of the untied shoe hits the pen driving it back into my mouth scraping a nice chunk of flesh off the roof of my mouth. :smack: :smack:
I was eating dinner the other night using the standard utensils, which is something I’ve been doing for about forty years now. So I’m still not quite sure how, as I ate the last fork full, three tines went into my mouth and one stabbed me in the outside corner hard enough to draw blood.
As in five minutes worth of dabbing blood.
I’m carrying a large monitor down the hall. It has a permanently-attached cable that is very thick and hard to bend, which I’ve tried to fold over the top of the casing.
As I’m walking, the cable starts to slip. Without any free hands, I can do nothing to stop it, so it falls off and starts dragging on the carpet. Not willing to stop and put the monitor down, I keep walking, attempting to avoid the cable. Except, with the huge monitor in front of me, I can’t really see where I’m going.
Next thing I know, the monitor suddenly gets five times heavier. Not wanting to drop it (it was expensive!) I maintain a firm grip on it as it yanks me down to the floor. There is a loud crash as the monitor and I slam into the ground. I had stepped on the cable.
The monitor seemed unharmed, so I was about to pick it up again when someone passing by gave me a horrified look. I had hit my chin on the monitor as I fell, and split it wide open.
I still have a scar there. I should tell people it was from a swordfight.
I can’t remember one of my own, but there’s a video on youtube of this guy who is setting up a gag for his wife/girlfriend. You know the one, where you put a rubberband on the little showerhead part of the kitchen sink? So when you turn on the sink, it shoots you with water? Well he had the camera set up, the thing in place and he tested it. Great, seemed to be working! Next thing you know, the guy slips on the water that went on the ground from his trial run and busts his teeth on the counter! It’s hilarious and kind of sad at the same time because he really did mess his teeth up. However, he did make sure to film it really well before cutting the camera off.
Dumbest way I’ve ever hurt myself:
I’m lying there in bed one night. Just sitting there, letting my brain run through its paces before I drift off. Being of a writerly sort, a wisp of a story drifts through my head and I pounce on it in the hopes that it will provide me with pre-dream entertainment. Now in this story there is a marvelous ballroom dancing scene, with couples in elegant dress sweeping across the smirchless marble floor to the smooth warble of a string quartet. The chandelier sparkles enchantingly. But everyone’s attention is drawn to the star character, a fabulous woman in a sparkling, silky green dress that twirls around her as she pirouettes and sashays to the music.
Half-asleep, my inspired self is swept up in this romantic image. Before I know it, I am trying to pull myself out of bed in an attempt to leap and cavort in the manner of this fictional lady. At 12 in the morning, I am half out of my mind and do not realize that the adjective “graceful” can in no way be applied to me.
I try to do a single spin, my tired legs buckle, and I sprain my ankle.
To this day, my mom thinks I tripped getting out of bed to fetch some water. :smack:
The only black eye I’ve ever had came from whacking myself in the face with the phone receiver as I tried, but failed, to put it to my ear.
I was shutting my trunk one day when I felt a tiny impact on the back of my hand, like it stings but will go away. I look down and see it bleeding, and I can see inside my hand. Three stitches. I’m still not quite sure what happened, but it may have been the point on the V in Civic, that burst a little slit in my hand. 
I was going to share a story but so far everyone has out-stupided me, so I am not even going to bother. I’m just gonna point and laugh!
ha ha!
We all know how to open and walk through a door, right?
- Grab and turn handle
- Pull door open
- Step through doorway
I do 2 and 3 very quickly, so sometimes this is what happens:
- Grab and turn handle
- Step the doorway
- Pull door open
- Door hits foot and stops right in front of me
- My momentum carries me(and my head) right into the door :smack:
Be careful, you might hurt your finger. 
d&r
About 12 years, I’m standing in front of my wardrobe getting dressed for work. I bend at the waist to pull something up and wack my head on the corner of the 13" TV set on top of the wardrobe. I mean, wack! (as in the doctor wanted to stitch the wound, but I talked him into just butterfly-ing it shut).
Which should have been my quota for stupid injuries, but a year before that, I ***yawned ***so hard that I pulled a muscle in my face. :smack:
I must get some kind of lifetime achievement award for cutting myself badly enough to leave a scar (still there more than 10 years later) with a butter knife.
The backstory: My boyfriend from high school (with whom I broke up amicably and by mutual agreement when I went off to college and neither of us had a car, just for the record) got a summer job selling Cutco knives. We were (and are) still friends, the knives were nice, and I wanted to help him out by buying something. But I was a poor college student, was clueless about cooking, and lived in the dorms and ate my meals at the dining hall, so I had no real need for kitchen knives. But there were butter knives that had a nice sharp edge, so I bought one, thinking it might come in handy.
Fast-forward a couple of years. I was taking summer school classes and living in an on-campus apartment with a kitchen, and still had the butter knife. I used it to try to cut open a plastic package (yes, I know, that was dumb). It slipped and cut my left middle finger. Badly. Blood all over the place.
I was trying to soak up the blood with a wadded-up paper towel while I frantically searched for the Band-Aids. It bled a lot, and I didn’t want to go to the campus health center because of the stupid way in which I had cut myself. (In retrospect, I probably should have) Then I started worrying that I was going to bleed to death. Then I started really hoping that my atheist friends were right about there being no afterlife- I really did not want to spend eternity explaining how I managed to kill myself with a butter knife.
Fortunately, I did find a Band-Aid and the bleeding did stop. But I’ve still got a scar on my finger, more than 10 years later.
My mother, last summer, attempted to scoop a slice of pie out of the pie plate, using a spatula with a serrated edge on it. The pie was a little bit stuck, Mom pushed harder, spatula jumped and cut her between the index and middle fingers.
I drove her to the Urgent Treatment Center, then to the Emergency Room. Hours later, we come home with her having 8 stitches in her hand. Almost no scar.
(She once had 7 stitches in her thumb, when the can opener didn’t quite cut all the way around the edge of the can, so she used her thumb to push on it).
I have a new kitten. Tiny little thing. And we’re still in the “getting to know you” portion of becoming family. So there I am, lying on the bed, trying to be non-threatening, with her crawling all around me sniffing. She gets up and starts sniffing my hair. Then sniffed my eyebrows. Then pulled in really close and sniffed my eyelashes. Well, human eye had to blink because of kitten breath. Kitten nose is tickled by human eyelashes. Human gets whopped in the eyeball by sharp little kitten claws.
Guess who looks like this :smack: this week?
Slipped on dogshit, put left hand through window, had piece of glass lodged in left wrist.
While tasting hot pasta for doneness, had pasta fall off spoon and stick to chin. There is no logical way to explain a blister on your chin.