** gavain,** my mom lived in the Balch Springs/Seagoville area from the late 70’s until about 5 years ago. No Fun! I spent summers there, but I would go into Dallas to see music and stuff. I used to go to the Hot Club. (I heard it burnt down!).
an arky,
i lived in balch springs in the early 90’s…most of my friends still live somewhere down there…only way to get around as a kid 15-17 was to have a friend that had a car…or to ride the DART BUS…right past old seagoville high school…funny the people ya meet…
I was lucky. I got to drive my Mom’s Pacer…:eek:
Living in Calgary can get pretty cold in the winter, especially when the heating in your apartment building goes out. I got home from work late and found the apartment freezing, so I open the stove door and turn on the oven before going to bed.
The next morning when I get up for work, it is still dark as I stagger into the kitchen half-asleep, completely forgetting that the stove door is open. My shin hit the door so hard that the corner of the stove pulled out from the wall about 6 inches. Needless to say, that woke me up right quick!
I’ve lost track of all the stupid, potentially life-threatening things I’ve done in my lifetime; probably the closest I’ve ever come to accidentally snuffing it was when, as a child (but not, sigh, a young enough child for this to escape being a hallmark of genuine idiocy), I decided to see what would happen if I touched a small metal ruler to the glowing coils of an electric space heater.
Only time in my life I’ve ever done a somersault.
When I was 24 I was getting ready to go for a night of revelry and as usual I was in a hurry. So I am getting dressed on the run and I’m putting my shirt on as I reach the table in the “dining area” (1 bedroom apt.). It happens to be where my keys are and also the location of the ceiling fan that I left on high most of the time. So I put my arm through one sleeve and hoisted it above my head to slide it on…WHAM…I brought the fan to a complete stop with my right hand. A mistake made only once. Experience, what a great teacher…
Well, I was at a rowing competition in Canada a few weeks back. On the last night of racing, the tradition is that every competitor goes out, gets blotto, and dives into the racecourse. So that morning, I’m watching races with my teammates near the finish line. I distinctly remember saying to them, “If you’re gonna dive in, DON’T do it here. You’ll get sliced up. Bad.”
So that night, everyone is out, dinking and having a good time. The urge to go swimming hits, and so my group heads to the pond. Off come my clothes, and into the pond I go, head-first…
(wait for it)
AT THE EXACT DAMN POINT AT WHICH I WAS STANDING AND ABOUT WHICH I WAS WARNING THAT VERY MORNING.
Cut myself open from the top of my chest to about a centimeter before my…umm…“junk.” Cracked two ribs. Left forearm looked like an ADD kid’s suicide attempt, and has since scarred pretty nicely, as has the chest.
The best part was trying to bargain my wallet back from the police, naked and bleeding like a stuck pig.
See you next year!
Two stories: one of mine, and one of my mothers.
One year in middle school, a few friends and I had gym class together. For this particular day, the teachers had pulled out various sport equipment, and you got your buddies together, picked what you were going to play, and did it. My friends and I weren’t the team sports type, so we wound up with a croquet set.
So we played a round or two of croquet before we got bored and decided that croquet would be so much cooler if it were faster. We also decided that the rules needed changing, and the object of the game became to be the first to get to the end of the field by hitting your ball, running after it, and hitting it again. Imagine soccer without goalies and with croquet equipment.
Off I go, across the field, happily racing my friends, when I run up to the ball, take a big swing, and CRACK! And then, another CRACK! Imagine my surprise when I realize that I’ve just managed to smash my ankle with a croquet ball.
Didn’t break anything, but oh, it hurt.
My mom’s story, though, is better. Also in middle school, she and I lived in a little place that was heated by a wood-burning stove. It was a pain in the rear to get the fire going sometimes, and occasionally we would wake up to a really cold house if the fire had gone out over the night. And so it was that one morning, we woke up to what seemed like sub-zero temperatures in the dead of winter. So Mom got up to dutifully tend to our heat source.
She tried everything she knew to try, and still the fire would catch. As a last ditch effort, she decided that kerosene was just the thing to use.
You see where this is going, don’t you?
I had had my back turned when Mom got a newspaper burning inside the stove and threw a cup of kerosene on it. But I turned around just in time to hear a wooshing sound and see flames shooting out of the stove at my Mom. Naturally, I freaked out until Mom got the stove door shut and showed me she was okay. Once I knew that, I laughed for the rest of the day. Eventually, her eyebrows, eyelashes, and arm hair made a full recovery, but her pride still suffers whenever I bring up the subject.
My daughter bought me a hip pair of clunky sandals and I wore them everywhere. Well the back strap broke but I didn’t care you coulnd’t tell when I had pants on.
One day walking in my sandals from my front door out to the porch which means I have to take a step (that is about 2" off the ground) I miscalculated my step and the sandal tried to slip off.
I did a funny manuever not to lose the sandal.
WOuldn’t you know I broke my foot. The cessma bone I think it is called. I had to wear a strap on cast all the way to my knee for 6 weeks. Naturally it was the right leg so I had to strap on and strap off everytime I wanted to drive.
I threw the sandals out. It wasn’t worth all the money I had to pay in doctor bills.
Isabelle, I believe the word you’re looking for is “sesamoid.” And that sucks!
Thanks Avarie537 that is EXACTLY the bone I broke!
A few months after I broke that bone I was in a car accident and broke my elbow. I ask you, how do you break an elbow in the car?
So there I was at work, stomping around the pantry behind the kitchen, trying to straighten the place up, and mumbling about the slobs I worked with.
There were three open mostly-empty gallon jugs of white vinegar sitting around… idiots. As I whipped the caps off to pour them together, I noticed… christ there’s another one!
I started to pour that one in, too, but stopped suspiciously. There was no label on that jug. Of course it had to be vinegar, but I thought I’d better make sure. So I put my nose to the spout and took a big sniff…
And after I’d recovered from bouncing off the wall and put my eyeballs back in place, I noted that no, it wasn’t vinegar but ammonia.
One time when I was driving home from work, I noticed my tank was on E. I kept thinking that I could make it to the gas station that’s on my exit. I go a good 10 miles, refusing to take any early exits for gas because I didn’t want to disrupt my routine.
I get to my exit, and have to drive up an entrance ramp to a stoplight to go right. When the light turns green, I press on the accelerator and nothing happens. Dammit!
So I have to get out and push, looking like a fool in front of everybody returning home through a busy intersection. I open my driver’s door, put one hand on the steering wheel, and push on the frame with the rest of my body. The gas station is within sight on the right.
I start to gain speed from the momentum, so I start to relax a bit. I figure I’ll steer the truck into the gas station lot, then do a Dukes of Hazard maneuver and jump in and hit the brakes as I roll up to the pump.
Well, it doesn’t really work, since I’m built more like John Goodman than John Schneider, and what happens is that once I jump in, I instinctively throw out my left foot to slow the truck down with the ball of my foot.
Did I mention I’m wearing sandals?
The result of this is that the friction causes my foot to twist over, and the top of my foot scrapes against the asphalt for about 10 feet. I now have this huge wound on the bridge of my foot that’s about a 4"x4" area. I hop around in pain as my foot sprays blood everywhere, but again, not wanting to be too conspicuous, I pretend nothing’s wrong as I hobble over to the men’s room and clot the wound with a wad of brown paper towels.
For the next few days at work, I’m wearing sandals and a huge bandage on my foot. People kept asking me what happened and ran away in disgust.
My ex was ironing his shirt once sitting on the bed b/c he was too lazy to put up the ironing board. He had just gotten out of the shower and was stark naked — you guessed it [don’t listen guys] the iron fell over on Mr. Man. After his initial screams, it was very quiet in our bedroom for many many days afterward.
This happened just a few weeks ago. I had just sold an item on Ebay and was packaging the thing up. I had just finished the last bit of tape. The box was just gorgeous. Everything shiny white cardboard, the “Priority Mail” packing tape carefully wrapped about the package, with not a single crease or wrinkle. I had placed the Internet postage shipping label delicately in the center of one side. and was carrying it to the table… when I dropped the package.
While I shouldn’t necessarily have worried about dropping something that wasn’t fragile, but instinct took over. As the box dropped straight down, I thrust my arms in a downward arc to catch it… and missed.
The box hits the floor with a soft thump and bounces lightly backward, at the same time my hands finish their arc, my hands ending at the groin. Thankfully I missed the ever delicate package with my hand, but oh, let’s not forget the fingers which add a bit more length… Just enough for the tip of the middle finger to smack directly into my right testicle.
Has anyone ever done that trick where you flick your hand, and can create a great hole in paper or balsa with just a fingertip? Same effect.
As the sensation of pain reached my fragile neurons, my body instincively crumples forward…
crushing the box.
I guess the stupidest thing I have ever done would have been in Italy. Some of the buildings there were built 500 years ago and are not exactly conduscive to modern traffic the shops open right up onto the streets.
My favorite bar there sits on a hill, which means that it has odd steps (built also about 500 years ago) the steps are uneven and there is about a foot and a half between opening the door and standing in traffic. Well one night about 2AM I was walking out hte door and saying goodbye to my friends. I was walking forward and looking over my shoulder not really paying attention to where I was going and fell out the door. Did a face plant right into the street, if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a motor scooter coming by right at that moment that had to swerve to keep from hitting me and ran inot one of the parked cars…there was lots of yelling ans swearing in Italian…fortunately everyone had been drinking profusely so no one got really hurt beyond some heavy bruising but that was my big stupid adventure.
Ever seen one of those “Gazelle Gliders”? They’re some stupid fitness machine from fitness quest. A co-worker told me they’re hawked by a muscular guy in a cap and pony tail with too much energy on TV. I don’t know, I don’t watch TV… but I digress.
My mother bought one.
One day, I went to her home to help her with some home repair work, and she showed me her new exercise machine. It was one of those “I got this because it will be easy for my arthritis and I can still get a workout” things. I looked at the device, and it frightened me. For those unfamiliar (just look up "fitness quest gazelle on the net) It involves two handles attached to two footpads which swing on a center/fulcrum/whatver. The gootpads are attached to the body by nylon cords and the idea is, you put your feet in, and grab the handles, then swing your legs back and forth.
I think it’s supposed to give you a workout, though I’m not sure how… but I digress (again). She told me to try it out. So I did. Let me tell you… If there were ever a more scary device on earth, it would be sitting in a museum along with the gazelle with the names “Iron maiden” and “The rack”. The most frightening thing is that you have no CONTROL. There is no way to stop yourself if you move wrong, because your feet aren’t on the ground. It’s like some sadistic carnival ride with no restraints.
I hopped on, and after making sure I had my balance, I started swinging my legs. It was relatively amusing. Mom: “You can move your legs back and forward at the same time and keep control.” Me: “Oh, really?” What she forgot to mention is, there aren’t any safety stops.
WHEE!!! I swing my feet forward so that I’m leaning back about 30 degrees. WHEE!!! I swing my feet backward so I’m leaning forward at about 30… 45… 60… 90!.. AAAUGH…
See, this is where the whole “no safety” and “no way to catch yourself” part comes in as I fall forward over the front of the machine, catching the monitor on my hip (BRUISE), then flip completely over, smash my thigh on the forward bar (BRUISE) and come crashing down to the floor on my face. This was particularly unpleasant as I’m a pretty good size fellow, and anyone who is overweight knows that falling becomes more hazardous, painful and bruising the heavier you are.
The final insult was, just as my body had crumpled to the ground, the 5-lb footpad which I had managed to kick into the air as I fell over the machine completed it’s 360-degree arc, and came down directly on the back of my head.
I was sorta depressed, and read this thread and I feel lots better. And NOW I’m compelled to share a few of my graceful moment’s with you complete strangers. haha (I am a girl btw)
Number 1.
I was three, and of course three year olds like to do whatever their parents do! So I was doing aerobics, (ever seen a three year old dance?) with my mom, and somehow got distracted and danced into the wall, which had a ledge about 3yo forehead heighth allll around it… 10 stitches, 6 hours, two adult dosages of valium, and an askewed equilibrium later I went home. Never been the same since… My whole world is slightly tilted now and I can’t walk in a straight line, even sober… :smack:
Number 2.
Ever tried to be a tight rope walker on the top of a swing set just after its rained, with grass on your feet? haha… I didn’t even bleed… much.
Number 3.
We will just skip along later into my life. Oh let’s see, I fell off my back porch… don’t know how, but I have always thought my “guardian angel” has had it in for me. :rolleyes: Well, thank goodness a friend caught me, but SOMEHOW… my knee ended up with a softball size lump on it (within like a minute), which didn’t hurt at all, but looked absolutely gruesome. My friend that caught me helped me inside, and my mom who of course can deal with anything laughed, and poked it a couple times, which did hurt… A LOT…lol My friend turned green and said he didn’t know that much blood could come out of one person…
( was really proud) I laughed too… Then over the next month my leg turned 5-6 different colors, and we went to the hospital etc, they stuck a needle in it, and the DR. thought it would be funny to see if the needle would just stand up on its own, while it was stuck in my leg. It did… and wobbled back an forth til I told him I was gonna give him a shot. Now I just have a slightly screwed up knee and a pale scar.
Well of course I have walked into closed glass doors, got locked inside my house (don’t ask), and have been bitten by various woodland creatures. Squirrels… CUTE, but sorta fierce…
Thanks for the pick me up, glad I found this board.
“Grace”
Wow, thinking back, I can’t remember most of the crap I’ve gotten into…which is really good…or really bad.
My most recent snafu was involving my head and a wall awhile back. I was upstairs on the computer at the back of the house, chatting away when the dog suddenly went crazy and starting barking his head off. Since I was home along, and it was late at night, I decided to investimagate. I leap off my chair and ran to my sisters room at the front of the house (it has a nice view of the cul de sac). Well, we have one of those baby gates across my sisters doorway because the puppy is not allowed in her room due to her asthma. I leapt over that gate in question and forgot about the top of the doorway. I didn’t become aware of what happened until a minute after the collision. With a distant CRACK, my forehead intercepted the overhang and knocked me right off my feet. I was running fast enough, that I landed on my back in the middle of the room…quite a distance from the doorway. I spent the next couple minutes trying to figure out what happened, and the next week having my friends laugh at my when I explained the imprint of the door moulding in my forehead.
A really good one happened to my friend last year. A group of us went out houseboating to BC for our end of grade 11 party. We pooled enough money to rent the biggest houseboat on the shuswaps at the time. Well, we were all chilling in the little sun room on the top deck, tossing around a nerf football. One friend accidently bounced the football out of the glass doors, across the deck, and into the lake. The glass doors were half closed, and another friend of mine quickly jumped up to go running after the ball…and ran full tilt right into the closed portion of the glass. the way he bounced off the door had such a cartoonish feel to it we could never forget it, and forever harassed him about his handicaps with glass.