Long story short -
I was lying in bed and had switched my bedside lamp on to read over my coursework. Suddenly the doorbell goes so I’m in a fit of panic to get my clothes back on. I bend over the lamp to reach my bra and managed to dip my titty into the lightshade - ouch! :eek: First of all I felt like I was being stabbed by two metal wires - I think I received a small electrick shock and then the burning sensation kicked in. I’ve taken a large chunk on skin off and its a little tender! 
Sooo… anyone else have an embarrassing story about injuries to intimate body parts? 
I applaud this story. It’s hilarious. But I do sympathise!
I usually try to avoid doing this.
I can’t believe I’m sharing this, but I shut my boob in a door once. I only vaguely remember the circumstances, as this was a few years ago; it was a cabinet door, I was bent over, and the girls were in between the door and the rest of the cabinet. I tried to shut the door and reach over for something on the floor at the same time, and caught my left boob in the door. Bruises for about a week.
A burned nipple sounds more painful, though. Ouch!
This thread is worthless without pictures.
I caught my foreskin in my zip once.
I stood there in agony wondering whether to pull zip up or down to free myself, I decided down was a better option.
Tore my f’skin and had a scab on it for about a week
Always make sure that your BF or husband has washed all of the Tiger Balm off of his hands before he gets into bed. Painful doesn’t begin to describe it. Also don’t let an old hippie convince you that snorting a little cayenne will clear up a stuffed nose. Trying to wash out your sinuses under the bathtub faucet doesn’t work. (I know, but I was young and stupid.)
My friend’s son slammed a dresser drawer closed on his penis not long ago. Gushing blood, trip to the ER, embarrassing explanations, the whole nine yards…
I poured boiling dye over my crotch once. I was dyeing something in a big pot on the stove, and was pulling it toward me for some reason. The pot was filled nearly to the brim and a big splash landed in my crotch. On closer inspection (after hysterical shrieking) it had only hit the tops of my thighs with a centimeter or so to spare. I was also wearing pantyhose. When I pulled them off, some of the skin on my thighs came with them. That was painful, embarrassing and gross. But I’m grateful it didn’t hit a little higher.
My middle desk drawer was slightly open, and I decided I’d better close it as I leaned forward to reach something on the desk.
Pinched the girls.
Ouch.
Thankfully, I was working the night shift alone, so my embarrassment and pain was my own.
Till now.
You go to medical school, you work hard, you go into emergency medicine. You want to help people. After a couple of years you wonder if there might be a basis for a comedy series on Fox inall this stuff.
According to my mother, absolutely. She was an ER nurse for 35 years, and has among other things a list of objects she’s found up people’s rectums. That alone would make for a recurring gag every episode.
A rogue kernel jumped out of my hot-air popcorn popper, down my shirt and onto my left breast; I still have the burn scar. It hurt like hell for a moment, but eating the rest of his evil brethren helped ease the pain.
See? This is why we don’t have a doorbell.
My first job was at Jack-in-the-Box. The assistant manager was a cranky bitch. One day, she slammed her boob in the cash register drawer. Wish I’d been there to see it.
Hmmmm, I have…
Zipped Mr Happy, who was anything but for about a week after
Closed my head in a door, leaving a permanant scar and reminder of my cat-like grace and agility
had my hand stuck in an electronic credit card machine, requiring firemen to come and extract said hand
Well, my right breast was on the receiving end of the hook attached to my brother’s fishing rod once. He’s since perfected his technique, and I’ve since increased my safety zone.
Other than that, ::wince:: for burnt boobs and zipped penii.
I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating:
Do not keep Ben-gay and KY in the same nightstand drawer.
When DH and I were first scoping out exactly where the boundaries of our land were, the trips required carrying machetes. I was wandering behind DH and somehow managed to step in such a way that a lurking briar leapt up and grabbed me right between the legs. Went clear through my jeans and hung on for dear life- it was like that scene from Evil Dead. At some point DH noticed I was gone and yelled out to see if I was all right. I said no, I was having some fairly serious thorn-related issues, and he (unable to see the extent of my problem and assuming perhaps my hair or jacket or other innocuous part was stuck) uttered the immortal line:
“Ya want me to whack it for you?”
:eek::eek::eek::eek:
I still don’t recall exactly how I got disentangled, but the incident kept me from sitting properly for a while. “Want me to whack it for you” is still a running joke at our house… thankfully I don’t have to explain the story behind it too often.
I just love this place! There is nuttin’ deemed too TMI to share. 
That bein’ said…
I once had to have stiches in my left buttcheek because I sat down on a knife that cut through the thin pajama bottoms I was wearing.