Stupid (Adult) Injuries

Blew my right knee out whilst skateboarding on a halfpipe in Taiwan at age 29.

I took a piece of pasta out of the boiling water and put it to my mouth, planning to blow on it and then taste it to see if it was done. The damn thing slid off the fork and stuck to my chin.

Everyone in the universe will ask you how you managed to get a blister on your chin.

A couple weeks ago, I shot myself in the finger with my nailgun. It didn’t hurt much at all, but it bled like a motherfuck, and sent me into an insane giggling fit that lasted for several minutes. I decided to keep the nail as a souvenir.

One Fourth of July, back when I used to drink, we decided that firecrackers were too tame. I got the idea to fill a ballon up with oxygen and acetylene then I touch it with a cigarette. If I had not had a full beard, it might have gone really bad. :rolleyes:

I was at work, and it started to rain. Knowing I had left my car windows open, I ran out to roll the windows up. Stopped quickly at the door to light a cigarette, and cupped it in my hand to protect it from the rain. Got to the car, rolled up the windows, and headed back inside. Somehow, my brain short circuited, I forgot that I had actually cupped the cigarette (basically by holding it backwards between my fingers) and took a drag off the lit end.

You think it’s hard to explain a blister on your chin, Annie X-mas? Try explaining a cigarette burn on your lip.

That bastard hurt like hell, too.

…and sloshed 1/2 cup or so of said boiling water onto the floor, where it scalded my foot right through a heavy sock. YEEOW! Turned right around and ran that sucker under the cold tap and got my ass to the ER. Second-degree scald, with a nice peely skin layer and red suffusion. Took about a week to heal.

Is it a very very bad thing and irrefutable proof that I am, in fact, an astoundingly immature idiot that my first reaction was: My god that would be awesome!

A few months ago, I put a thick glass tabletop out by the dumpster. They missed it the next pickup, and I figured I’d just leave it there - they’ll get it eventually. The next day I came out and it was smashed in the parking lot.

Being a do the right thing kind of guy, I’ll have to pick it up. It broke into many small pieces and one really large one.

At this point my brain actually tapped me on the shoulder and said “gloves, please”

I picked up all the small pieces and put them in the dumpster, no problem. I looked at the big piece, then at the dumpster. The dumpster is backed up against a fence and a bush, so you can’t flip the lid open. You have to hold it open while you put things in. “No problem” thinks I.

Brain leaps out of my left ear so it can look me in the eye. “Look, there’s work gloves in the back of your truck, not 15 feet away!”

I pick up the big piece, use it to wedge up the lid, wiggle it in as best I can, and let it drop. I feel it brush my left thumb on the way down. I inspected said thumb, and my only thought was "oooh - that’s deep ". Took about 1/2 hour to get it to stop bleeding enough to bandage it.

Just for my future information (for the next time I ignore the warning bells between my ears) - what’s the generally accepted bleeding threshold before one seeks stitches?

Sounds like my turkey accident. Except the turkey fell on a pyrex bowl of gravy, which shattered. So imagine me standing amidst shattered glass and hot gravy…barefoot.

Of course, someone asked what happened to the kitchen rug. It was wrapped around the turkey in the outside garbage can.

I know I’ve posted this one here before. About 13 years ago, I was walking through a parking lot. Stepped up onto one of those grassy divider thingies between sections.

Or, rather, tried to. I did not raise my foot quite enough to clear the curb, and tripped. In an effort to get my feet back under me, I ran onto the divider, down the other side, and finally did a full facer onto the next section of asphalt. Scraped the palms of both hands. Slightly chipped one front tooth. Oh, and my elbow kind hurt. 3 hours later and a trip to the ER and yep, I broke my elbow while walking on level ground.

Papa Zappa sprained his ankle badly a couple of years ago. He was in the parking lot near Zany Brainy a day or two after a snowstorm. It’s all Scylla’s fault; my spouse had gone there looking for an inflatable blimp. Oh, the horror. No, he did not slip on the ice. He tripped on the curb which had been well-cleared of snow.

I think we should just avoid parking lots. They’re clearly out to get us.

The phrase “adult injuries” in the thread title immediately brought to mind Cecil’s horrifying column on penile fracture.

I’m sure this isn’t the stupidest thing, but it’s the only thing coming to mind yet:

Playing adult volleyball in my early 20’s. Gigantic man spikes bullet, er, excuse me, the volleyball in my general direction, I hold up my right hand. I looked like I was stopping traffic, daintily.

Needless to say the result was a cracked bone in my hand which was subsequently knocked back into a position it’s not meant to be in. I wore a lovely sling for a couple of weeks.

Oh, yes. I broke my foot walking on level ground. My foot slipped sideways in my shoe,and I heard a “pop”. Since I didn’t feel any pain for a couple of seconds, I thought "I hope that was the leather of my shoe popping, and looked down to see the bone pushed up against the skin. Then it started hurting.

For some insane reason, instead of sitting down and getting help, I walked a block and a half to my Wrangler and drove a manual transmission to my vets office. (If they weren’t busy, I was going to ask him to X-ray my foot. They were busy.) When I went to the doctor the next morning, my foot was purple from my toes to halfway up my shin. The doctor told me after the x-rays that walking on it was actually pretty smart - I had reset the bone before it started swelling. If I had not done that, it would have required surgery. I just had to wear a cast for two months, and still have a lump on the side of my foot.

I wouldn’t exactly call it a spectacular injury, maybe a spectacularly stupid injury…

Last winter I learned how to snowboard (ok, more like I learned how to fall on my ass a lot…).

I also learned (the hard way) how (not) to ride the chair lift. Fell getting off, didn’t completely clear it, and got cracked in the back of the head by it. As I sat there slightly dazed, I rubbed the back of my head where I got hit, brought my (black gloved) hand down onto my (light brown) pants, then moved my glove and noticed the blood. “WTF?-awwshit I’m bleeding”.

They made me ride down the mountain with the ski patrol to first aid…who promptly told me they thought I had a concussion & that I needed stitches, and said I should go to the hospital. Of course I thought I was fine, and didn’t want to go, but my friends made me.
After sitting in the ER for 3 hours, I had 3 staples in my head (hey CynicalGabe- you think the regular kind hurt - try these fukkers!). The staples hurt worse than getting hit in the first place.

Having worked nights for much of my adult life, things get turned around. One morning after getting off work, some other night shifters who hadn’t worked the night before, dropped in. They brought along a nice bottle of champagne. Well, “nice” could be a stretch.
I had a towel ready to put over the cork (hard plastic stopper thingy.) I took the little wire cage off the stopper, and reached for the towel. As I leaned forward, (barely) the cork popped, spontanously, hitting me in the left eye ridge, splitting my eyebrow. I was stunned for a second. I had no idea why I couldn’t see (copious blood in my eye)out my left eye, I couldn’t identify the loud “crack” sound I’d just heard, and I wondered why my feet were wet.
My friends were beside themselves because I refused to go to the ER. How would I have explained being hit with a champagne cork at 7:30 in the morning to people I work with? No way.
I had to keep pressure on it for almost two hours before it stopped. It only made it a little harder to enjoy the wine.

Another person who tragically misinterpreted the meaning of the word nailgun.

There was a nasty story in the local news yesterday about a guy who blew himself up by using his cigarette lighter to look inside his gas tank to see if it was empty. Don’t know how much gas was in there, but apparently there were a whole lot of fumes in there. Oy. :eek:

In Soviet Russia, gas tanks fuel you!

Wow, I truly thought I was a freak by getting all sorts of weird little injuries due to my own absentmindedness, clumsiness, or bad luck. But you guys all have me beat by far :slight_smile:

My only fairly good one is when I got out of my boyfriend’s hot tub, stark naked on a cold fall night, and missed the step and landed on all fours. Well not all fours, because I wanted to save my knees. So I sort of landed on the tops of my feet instead.

He was toddering off to find some video he’d wanted me to watch and while he did notice me fall, I was like “uh I’m ok” and he went off.

I went to the bathroom and took note of the situation. The skin on the top of my left foot was pretty much gone. I had a smaller but similar cut on the top of my right foot. The tops of both kneecaps were scraped and bloody, and both palms were red and scratched.

The boyfriend cued up the video and I came out of the bathroom, naked and covered in blood, asking for band aids.

“holy shit” he says, observantly. “You’re all bloody!”

We made do with some Harry Potter band aids and paper towels. So I could watch the video w/o getting his couch bloody :-/

I couldn’t wear a shoe on that foot for about 2 weeks.

Anyway, the long-term result of this “falling out of the hot tub” incident is a 1"x3" brown/purple/pink scar on the top of my foot which often looks fresh enough to gain “what happened!?” inquiries, especially since I’m barefoot alot in karate.

The sad part is that I don’t have a cool story to go with the scar. “I fell out of a hot tub” is the best I can muster. Since I’m not a good liar, “shark bite” or “motorcross accident” never come up.

I have a stupid bathtub injury, too. Unfortunately, it involved me being drunk (the last time I ever got drunk, incidentally).

Sitting around, drinking way too much, having a bizarre conversation with now-ex-husband and his best friend. I started feeling pretty rough, so I headed into the bathroom. After a long while of me just sitting in the bathroom, waiting for the world to stop spinning, his friend asked me what I was doing.

“Taking a shower!” I yelled back.

“I don’t hear the water running!”

Fine. I stood up to turn on the water, and the next thing I know, I’m flat on my back in the bathtub, cold water is pouring over my head, my right hand hurts like a motherfuck, and my lip feels like it’s got half of Shea Stadium marching on it. My husband is staring down at me, drunk and dumbfounded. Apparently, just as I was turning on the water, I passed out into the tub. THe only thing I can figure is, I must have been holding onto the faucet and managed to mangle my fingers on it while trying to hold onto it while falling.

After that incident, I drink much less - not enough to even get a buzz, really. Ended up getting four stitches in my middle finger. And that was fun, too, trying to explain a bloody finger and a fat lip to the ER doc, when my husband was nowhere to be found (he was too drunk to take me, so the friend, who sobered up in a flash, drove me the mile and a half to the hospital). I had to promise up and down that it really was a stupid accident and not inflicted at the hands of anyone else.

Then there’s the time I was in a hotel, stepped out of the bathtub onto the little towel they had put down in place of a bathmat. You know the rubbery backing on bathmats? That’s there for a purpose. I stepped on the towel, one foot still in the tub. The towel scooted away, and I banged the other leg hard on the edge of the tub. I had a seriously ugly bruise for more than a month, and there’s still a small bump on my shin, just below my knee where I banged it.