When I was about 9 years old, I decided to experiment if stepping on a rake would indeed result in a handle to the face faster than one could react (even when expecting it). The answer is yes.
Similarly, in my later studies in the field of Ethically Empirical Physical Humor, I dropped a banana peel on the tile floor of the school cafeteria and gingerly stepped on it. Wow, very slippery! Down I went with a crash.
I blame this all on being too skeptical and test driven, too surgical to set traps for unsuspecting strangers, and too short on siblings (I was an only child).
I was working in a mine and after shift went to the dry to remove my work clothes. You then walk through the showers to get the muck off and proceed to another locker room area to dry off and dress. Eyes full of water and clean as a whistle I grabbed my towel from the top shelf in the locker. Those metal lockers rust after a few years and a large piece of rusty metal stuck to the towel managed to slice a large gash into my neck, spurting blood all over my body and street clothes. Try explaining that to a wife
I had just finished filling the soda machine when I decided to cut the plastic six-pack holders before throwing them out because I saw a news story about how ducks were dying because of being slowly strangled by them. Given I had 25-30 of them, instead of using a scissors one by one, I stacked them up & got out my knife. Of course it slipped, taking my finger tip with it. I ran across the hall into the bathroom & ran it under the sink but it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I yelled for my partner but he didn’t hear me so I pulled out my phone & called him (two rooms away). He brought me some gauze & it was clear that I’d need a few stiches.
So now the argument begins.
Do we “call” the ambulance? Hell no, I’m never gonna live that one down & I’m not making him do paperwork either.
Do we take the ambulance? Ummm, no because we’re SOL if we get a call while enroute & I don’t have a ride back either.
We end up settling on him driving me in my car & the 3rd guy following me in the ambulance.
Yup, I was on-duty as an EMT. :smack:
P.S. I probably should have gone to a hospital in the next county because the ER staff was SO sympathetic & helpful towards me, the guy who usually brings them patients & keeps them busy.
“Oh, we’ll need to amputate!”
“You’ll need a tetanus shot, where’s the big needle!”
@#$%& jokers!
A few years ago a friend and I were biking up to a waterfall at Julia Pfeiffer State Park in Big Sur. A pretty wide and easy trail for most of it, skinnier at the top. We had biked up to the falls and had chilled out for awhile, and were on our way down, when we decided to race each other once we got to the wide downhill part. After a half mile or so I became aware that my friend had fallen way back and was shouting, but I was going too fast to think anything of it.
Turns out at that time of day the banana slugs came out, and I realized he had remembered and was warning me. Unfortunately I thought he was warning me b/c I was murdering the shit out of them, so I hit the brakes. I then recalled, a few seconds too late, a forgotten memory from Animal Science class.
My dad threw his back out leaning down to pick up a towel at a hotel swimming pool on a business trip.
Was leaving the oral surgeons office after having all 4 of my wisdom teeth chiseled out and bounced off the threshold [door frame?] of the office door and fell, breaking my jaw. They hauled my groggy arse back in and fixed it. I spent my spring vacation of my senior year in high school stoned with my jaw wired shut.
Going to the bathroom when I was about 14, and didn’t notice that my brother had set the little portable tv he borrowed from me outside the bedroom door so I basically dropkicked it across the hallway breaking 3 toes on my right foot. Got me out of gym class for a while though so I wasn’t as pissed as I could be.
All of my stupid ways involve me getting smashed in the mug.
When I was in 3rd grade I was running through the house heading outside to play. I was just going to push the storm door open and run out but I didn’t realize somene locked it. Smashed my face into the glass, broke the glass and my schnozzola!
When I was 12 I was riding my skateboard down a hill that emptied out into the parking lot of a park. I was sitting on it and going like a batouttahell. I thought I could make it under a bench I was approching.
I was wrong.
Smashed my face and broke my schnozzola.
My friend and I were trying to get miles off his dads station wagon by jacking up the back and running it in reverse (this was about 10 years before Ferris Bueller came out). I don’t remember why but I was sitting in the drivers seat. Jack popped out, car went backwards slamming into a tree. The huge metal Fuzzbuster flew off the dash smashing my face and broke my schnozzola.
Once upon a time, I had pretty long hair; down to my beltline. I’m a guy, by the way.
I was using a grinding stone point in a handheld electric drill in an attempt to remove the zinc from a galvanized pipe cap. Had the trigger locked down so that I wouldn’t need to hold it. But I didn’t tie back my hair.
A lock came down from above my forehead and engaged the chuck of the drill. The motor was pulled out of my hand and smacked hard into my head, causing a minor contusion. The drill motor stopped…
I quickly pulled the cord out of the wall (remember when drills weren’t all cordless?) and slowly unwound my hair. I grow it tough; I was totally surprised to discover not a single strand had broken or been pulled out by the root.
This is definitely one of those stories that you keep telling everyone, then wonder why you aren’t keeping it quiet.
Just thought of another one. My whole family were aid crew with the volunteer fire department in our rural area. We had a base radio in the house that would sound off when we got a call. We lived a couple of hundred yards from the firehouse where the aid car was kept, so my brother and I, as the youngest and most spry, would often be the ones to get the rig while everyone else would respond in their personal vehicle with a green ‘Kojak light’ on the roof.
One day the tones went off and everyone ran to grab their jackets and go. I don’t remember what the emergency was, but I recall it turned out to be something very minor.
I headed for the door in a hurry, and decided to jump over a kitchen chair that was blocking my way. Did not take account of the low beam across the ceiling right above it.
I and my mother did not respond to the aid call. She had to drive me to the doctor to get stitches in my scalp.
I threw a pair of scissors at someone, intending to injure them. I did not release them right and instead both points sunk about 1/2" into my shin. The bone, not the meat.
I sliced off a bit of my finger trying to put a notch in my belt.
I stepped on what I thought was just a blanket but which was really covering a Swedish chair, which flipped over and sent my head on a collision course with the corner of my desk.
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I was making mashed potatos with a Cuisinart immersion blender. I went to taste the potatos off the blade and accidentally turned it on. I just about cut off my finger tip and still have trouble typing.
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I did the same thing except with whipping cream and the immersion blender. Cut my finger halfway through. Four stitches.
Shot a pellet gun into my hand showing someone it wasn’t loaded. Yeah, crazy stupid, I was a kid. Thank god it was a pellet gun, but still. Didn’t want him to know how fukking stupid (and wrong) I was, went into the house and screamed.
Flicked toothpaste into my eye, had to miss a day’s work since I managed to abrade the eye trying to get it out and couldn’t drive.
As a kid, chasing my sister with intent to kill or at least maim. Tree stump from a 3" diameter tree that I didn’t see in the dusk-broken arm.
Tried to jump off an out of control sled heading for a creek, and another sled’s runner hit me-7 stitches in my forehead.
And just an hour ago, tried to catch a heavy bowl that slipped out of my hands as I was washing it, my hand closed on it just as it hit the edge of the counter. I pulled back a bloody hand with a big broken off piece of the rim. Numerous cuts, but no stiches. I hope.
About three weeks ago I was cutting something with bolt cutters. I had the cutters resting on the table and it was taking all of my might to cut through this piece of metal. As I was leaning into it the flab of my stomach got caught between the part that pinches together behind the cutting blade. I still have the remnants of my very own vampire bite on my stomach.
As an aside I haven’t been dating my boyfriend very long and we were talking on the phone and he heard the crinkling of the bag of ice I had on my stomach. Let me tell you how embarrassing it was to explain that injury!
I think that’s the best dog name I’ve ever heard.
It somehow makes the story all the more amusing.
I’ve injured myself in stupid ways numerous times.
The one that comes to mind (that I can bear sharing) is drilling through a piece of wood I was holding in the palm of my hand.
Must have been about 17 years ago, and I can still see the scar.
I got out of my car at a gas station and slammed the driver side door shut while my right leg was still in the way. I know people shut their fingers in doors all the time, but this was my whole damned leg.
Huge gash on my calf, lots of blood, big hematoma. It’s been a year and I now have a 2-inch scar on my leg surrounded by a bluish discolored area that still hurts sometimes. Looking back, I definitely should have gone for stitches but I didn’t want to be late for work.
That’s actually the second time I’ve done that in the last 5 years, though the first time was on the other leg and it didn’t scar. I do have a scar on that leg from tripping while running up a Metro escalator. And I’ve closed the car door on my leg whilst getting into it at least 3 times since. Maybe I should take lessons.
Me and a couple of mates were just walking down the street, when one of us idly began kicking an old empty aluminium softdrink can around. Eventually, we started picking it up and tossing it to each other.
Then we had this great idea of playing cricket with it. So we squashed the can a bit more, ripped a garden stake out of someone’s front yard, and started playing in the street.
By now, the can was basically a small lump of metal about the size of a lemon, covered in razor sharp spikes. Did I mention it was summer, so we were all wearing shorts?
The cricket game consisted of :Player A would tray and bowl the ‘ball’ (miniature death star) as fast as he could - ripping his hand to pieces. Player B would try to hit the ball and either a) fail, and have it hit him on the bare leg, or b) connect and swat it towards Player C who would then try to catch aforementioned Death Star Ball with his bare hands.
After a while, change places.
Despite the copious amounts of blood flowing, our teenage peer pressure ensured that none of us wore going to be the one who called off the game. Apart from the multitude of small slashes, I wound up with 2 separate gashes on my right leg requiring stitches, one of my mates had stitches in his hand, and the third guy, who seemed to have escaped with only (relatively) minor blood loss eventually missed 2 weeks of school due to a severe wound infection.
We still talk about it to this day, compare scars, and marvel at the collective stupidity of teenage boys.
