A couple days ago I was lying on the floor of my bedroom in front of a mirror, feeling sorry for myself because I was really sick and had a rash on my butt crack (I was looking at the rash, which is why I was lying in front of the mirror in the first place.) Eventually I had to get up, and when I did I managed to slam my face into the corner of the bed frame, resulting in a lovely black eye.
Now how exactly do I explain that to everyone who asks what happened?
that is beautifu. You may have a chance of winning. 
Oh my goodness. I am falling off my chair laughing. thank you so much
I thought the blender I was using wasn’t catching the gears right, so I thought it would be a good idea to hold the blade with my hand and turn it on, thus making the gears mesh properly. That’s stupid enough, but what I didn’t realize before my attempt was when this particular blender (KitchenAid) is turned on, it starts at top speed then ramps down to the selected speed.
Y’know how liquid in a blender gets thrown out if the lid isn’t on? The same thing happens to hands. I was lucky to walk away with a slight cut and some bruising. (The wounded pride part came when I had to explain the bandages to mrsgnu.)
I not only seriously injured my ankle walking on a flat, smooth floor - I broke the damn thing. My food did that “flip over on the side” think and I heard a “pop”. Thought “I sure do hope that was the leather of my shoe”. I looked down.
It wasn’t the leather. My fifth metatarsal (foot bone that runs from the ankle to the little toe) had popped free from the ankle and was pressed up against the skin of the top of my foot from the underside.
I think I was in shock - it is the only way to explain what I did next. In spite of the fact that my foot started hurting really bad as soon as I looked at it, I walked a block and a half to my car.
A Jeep. 5-speed manual transmission. And drove about 10 miles home, including about 10 stoplights. :smack:
Thank goodness it was my right foot; if it had been my clutch foot I never would have made it home. My husband said he knew it was broken when he walked in the door that night because I had a big bag of ice on my foot, and I can’t stand ice to touch my skin for any length of time.
The orthopedic surgeon later told me that walking on it was actually pretty smart, in hindsight. It could have made things much worse, but as it was I reset the bone. If I had not walked on it and it had swelled up (which it did - hugely - I was bruised from my toes halfway to my knee) with the bone out of place I would have had to have surgery.
But breaking your foot walking? How do you respond when someone asks “what did you do to get that lovely knee-high blue cast?”
A couple of years ago I take a break from putting up the Christmas tree. While standing - get that - standing in the kitchen with a clammoring 2 yro at my feet. I open the fridge, lean to the cupboard to the right to grab that sippy cup and broke my ankle. Just like that. I have no clue what I did.
Funny part? I go to the ER, they read the x-ray as normal sprain and give me an air cast, which I promptly determine is useless as I have a tree to decorate. 3 days later they call me to come back and get a real cast because opps, it’s broken. I had already tossed out the air cast.
The tab on a cat food can came off. I did however have a gap started. I put my thumb under and the lid statred to give. I said tyo myself ,if this lid sticks right there I could get cut.
*8 stitches
Several years ago, I was in the shower and noticed that the sliding shower door was not quite on its runners, so I yanked it back into place, or so I thought, only to have it come crashing down on my instep, close to the toes! They didn’t break, but they were terribly sore and bruised for a while.
A couple of years ago, I was spring cleaning and tried to lift a wicker basket that was filled with magazines and catalogs. I tore the acromioclavicular muscle and ended up in phys. therapy.
A year later, I put some textbooks in a box, put the box on a luggage carrier, and pushed it up a fairly steep hill to donate the books. Two days after, I felt my calf muscle pop as it ruptured. Phys. therapy again.
I got four stitches for the same thing as a child. Still the only stitches I’ve ever had.
Oh, this is bringing back memories… but I’m not feeling as bad about them, knowing you all are (yes, I must say it) as stupid as I am.
When I was about 10, I was in the front yard while my parents were in the back. They had set me out there to keep watch for a delivery truck, so when I saw it pulling in, I tore like a bat outta heck for the back yard. On the way, I had to pass under the clothes line, which was hung with beach towels.
You know how fun it is to do the “Toro” manuever when you are a kid? Put your head down and WHAM through the fabric? Well, it isn’t so fun when you forget that there is a stone planter on the other side of the clothes line. Knocked myself out for a bit…
Oh, and a “yep, I’m still dumb as an adult” story…
A few years ago, I was in the process of repairing the outside of my house. I had just bought a brand new, sharp as a tack big ol’ prybar to help drag some old siding off the house, and had climbed the extension ladder with it when I remembered something I left indoors. I went in through the window at the top of the ladder.
I came back outside on the ground floor, went to the ladder, and started repositioning it. Silly old me had left the prybar up at the top of the ladder, two stories up, hanging over a rung. DARNED if the thing didn’t come straight down and go through my work boot - thank heavens I wasn’t wearing tennis shoes, or I’d be less a couple of toes.
About seven years ago, I was putting together a bedframe for my parents. Two pieces interlocked with a bolt and a keyhole slot. They would not lock together. Would. Not. Work.
I lost my patience and gave them an almighty yank. They locked together. With my right index fingertip in the keyhole slot just in front of the bolt. Cut through my nail and fingertip for about a quarter of an inch in.
I stopped by the campus health building the next day and got chewed out by the nurse for not coming in the previous night. Soaked the silly thing in iodine for twenty minutes and got a tetanus shot.
Six years later, while I scrubbed the kitchen table, I realized I’d managed to regrow the nerve connection that had been severed.
As creatively as you can. 
I broke the proximal end of my fifth metatarsal stepping off a curb (in NYC no less) to cross the street. (my foot also did the stupid rolling under thing, and POP)
Fortunately, this happened right across the street from my friend’s apartment. I hobbled in, and got it elevated and iced right away. When I saw the localized swelling, I knew but didn’t admit until a passive flex had sharply localized pain.
Because I didn’t have insurance, I took the train back to New Haven, CT, (with an icepack on the break and my foot up on the seat in front of me) where the costs are lower, then decided to drive to the hospital in Derby (nearest my home and nowhere near as busy as Yale or St. Raphael’s in New Haven.)
Did I mention my car is a standard transmission, and it was my left (clutch) foot ?
(my heel is my friend)
All in all, it wasn’t that bad. I was in and out of the emergency room in 45 minutes. so even with the train ride, I probably got my bone “set” faster than if I had gone to a busy Manhattan emergency room. You can sit in one of those for hours if you’re a “green” in triage.
Today, I did a really stupid thing. I was making beads at the torch. There was this beautiful bead that I made with a striking pink (the color only comes out with proper heat control) that I somehow managed to get ribbons of color running through a clear heart shape. I put it in the annealer (kiln to keep warm while I’m still working, then control the cooling to reduce stress in the glass) with the end of the mandrel (skinny rod upon which bead is made) out. I took it out, holding the cool end that had been outside, just to check it hadn’t struck further, it slipped, so … this is the stupid part … I grabbed it with my other hand where the metal had been in the annealer at 950 degrees. I have two burn lines, one on my index finger and one on my thumb that are actually indented. I’ve been icing them as much as I can stand and they still hurt. 
House-cleaning is dangerous.
I had an old cabinet with sliding glass doors. The cabinet was that old particle-board crap and it was at the end of it’s days. I removed the glass doors and decided to put them in my closet because I was hoping to find another use for them. I was afraid I would lose my grip on the door and drop it as I lowered it so I used my leg to guide the glass door down to the floor. The edge of the door made a nice long slice in my leg. It didn’t hurt much at first and didn’t bleed right away either so I had a moment to say to myself “Did I just do what I think I did?”. The I saw a small trickle of blood start to form and I pulled on the edges of the cut to see how big it was … bad idea, much more blood started and it was a bigger cut that I thought. I almost fainted.
I wrapped a towel on my leg and tried to call my mom to drive me somewhere for stitches. I tried my sister, too, but she was at work. She did offer to leave early to come get me but I told her I’d try mom again and if not drive myself somewhere. Eventually I felt less light-headed and the bleeding was under control so I drove myself to a walk in clinic for stitches. I wasn’t going to an ER for that, I knew I’d have to wait longer.
The doctor told me the cut was so clean and even I wouldn’t have a scar but he was wrong. I have a 3 inch scar on the outside of my right leg just below my knee now. I think because it was just below my knee that any movement of my knee pulled on the stitches and they got really irritated. It’s a nice scar but I need a better story to go with it.
You guys all rock.
Ok here’s another.
I was holidaying with my parents years ago, and we went to this spectactuar beach. It had these huge awemaking cliffs on either side and pristine white sand. The only thing that made it less than idyllic were these “pods” - some kind of seaweed on the shoreline.
I decided to go for a run before a swim, and was running along the beach, headdown watching where i was stepping, and not where I was going.
I ran headfirst into the cliff so hard my mother said I bounced off it. I literally saw stars and passed out.
My brother did not stop laughing all afternoon.
But someone with no thumbs, fingers, or toes could hitch a ride, really.
Well, if one is male, and if one is very “excited” about his destination… 
True Blue Jack
Flaming croth snow-hump takes it every time.
My story unfortunately took place this last weekend.
Eating a grilled cheese sandwich in bed Sunday morning.
Molten cheese and chest hair are NOT a good combination…
(No commments about crumbs in bed please. Linens get changed on Sundays)
Oh that brings back another stupid injury memory. I had gone over to a buddy’s house during the winter. I had cut through people’s yard to get there. When I left, I followed my tracks back through the yards. There was about 2’ of snow on the ground and I didn’t want to get any more snow in my shoes than I needed to. So, I was looking down so my feet would land in the holes that I left on the way there. At one point, my tracks were farther apart. I had run through this yard on the first trip, and therefore had to run on the way back to keep stride and keep my feet out of the deep snow.
I was just about at a full sprint when I found myself parallel to the ground. I vaguely remeber flying through the air and landing on my back. I wasn’t entirely sure what happened as I lay in the deep snow, somewhat dazed, looking at the sky.
I noticed a warm, burning sensation in my mouth about the same time I noticed the clothesline directly above me. Ahhh, I do remember running under that clothesline on my way to my buddy’s house! But, since I was following my own tracks, and didn’t run into anything the first time, I figured I didn’t need to look on my trip back. As it turns out, I got clotheslined, by an actual clothesline, by MY LIPS!
The strings of the clothesline somehow managed to go into my mouth, and after stretching a bit, abruptly stopped my head. Because of Newton’s silly laws, the rest of my body tended to stay in motion, and that’s how I found myself flying through the air. I managed a fairly deep cut on both corners of my mouth and learned quickly to not eat or drink anything salty or citrusy for a few weeks.
I had a pair of experiences like this. Delivering community newpapers, I was running alongside my mom’s car. I was sprinting to keep up and looking to the side when I hit an “Emergency Snow Route” sign. It laid me flat out with a bruise running down the side of my face. I wish I could have seen it from an outside point of view. It was probably hilarious.
A similar event was when I was running home because it was just a little too dark to be out anymore. It was also too dark to see the support cable running from the telephone pole to the ground. It “clothes lined” me and left a bruise running from my right shoulder to my left hip.
I once burned the back of my neck with a hot ravioli. That was pretty dumb.
My very first Tae Kwon Do tournament, I’m sparring someone more experienced and much faster than I. I lined up, and threw an absolutely gorgeous roundhouse kick toward his ribs. The bad part was that I connected with his elbow.
I broke two toes and a metatarsal in my right foot. It didn’t hurt when it happened, although I knew intellectually my foot was broken. A half hour later, sitting in the local Hooters for the after fight party, and I almost passed out from the pain.
But wait, it gets better. I tried to mow the yard when I got home, and quit in agony.
The next day, I was walking through the house barefoot because I couldn’t get a shoe on from the swelling, and I stubbed the broken toes on a basket of magazines. :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek: :smack:
At that point, I finally went to the ER and got set up with the proper moon shoe accessories, and I walked with a cane for several weeks.
That reminds me of the time a can of mushrooms fell right on the nail of my big toe. The edge of the can, at a 45 degree angle or so, right at the base of the toenail. It hurt like a bitch but I didn’t think it was too bad until I saw the bruise spreading under the nail. I tried to sleep it off, but every time the sheets brushed the toe I was in agony. So I drove to the hospital NEXT DOOR and the doc diagnosed a hematoma (a big bruise, basically). Then he used a red-hot electric cauterizer to burn a hole in the nail. It was instant relief. The toe still hurt but only like a regular bruise, not the agony of earlier.
I still ate the mushrooms.