you know how you like to keep your chips on the counter, and then your mother comes over and tells you you’re an idiot for doing that because no_one does that - and then you post on a message board and it turns out everyone does that.
I hate that.
You know how, when you’re at the Home Depot and there’s no one around to cut the wrapping tape off the stack of tiles so you can take a close look at just one of them, so you attempt to do it yourself with the screwdriver someone left sitting next to it but the screwdriver slips and plunges into your palm? And then your wife insists you go to the Urgent Care even though you know that two butterfly bandages and some alcohol will take care of it but she insists so you go anyway and then there are enough people in line ahead of you that they don’t get around to you until all the adrenaline has worn off and it’s starting to smart a little and THEN the doctor decides you need stitches so he starts sticking a needle into your hand but the needle to numb it up so he can clean it but he doesn’t bother waiting for the novacaine to take effect first?
I hate that.
You know when you’re 12 and you’re shaving your legs for the first time and you feel a sharp stab of pain on your kneecap and you just know you sliced yourself open, but you just sort of sigh and keep going, then feel ANOTHER stab of pain on the other side of the same kneecap? And then, after a slight delay, you see the blood and it’s gushing like Niagara Falls, and you finally get it cleaned up and think “boy, this is going to be the gash to end all gashes, I don’t even know if I have bandaids big enough!” but then the actual wound ends up being the size of a pinhead?
And you know how when you’re 8 years old and you step on a bag of seashells in the yard and slice the HELL out of your little toe such that the flesh is peeling off, and you hobble inside the house whimpering and wibbling because it hurts and you’re afraid your toe’s going to have to be amputated, and your mom’s response is “don’t bleed on the carpet”?
Really hate that.
You know how you’re trying to install a lockset in a door, and you have to chisel out a spot for the strike plate so it will sit flush with the door edge? And you know how you choose a good, sharp chisel to make the job go easier?
And you know also how awkward it is to hold the door in place and also use a hammer and chisel at the same time, so after awhile you put the hammer down and are just cleaning up the cut with the chisel in one hand and holding the door with the other to keep it from swinging, but you’re being very careful to keep the holding hand below the cut while you chisel upward, but then you have just that little bit left to do that’s hard to get to, so you shift your grip to above the cut, and then the chisel slips out of the work a sinks into the meaty part of your thumb, neatly cutting a one inch furrow that geysers blood like a broken fire hydrant?
That was a bad day.
You know how when you step on a rusty nail sticking up out of a board, and it goes right through your flimsy sneaker sole and into your foot, and you jump around in pain?
And then when you’re jumping and land on the SAME DAMN NAIL with THE OTHER FOOT?
Yeah, I hate when that happens.
(I was too terrified to tell anyone because I was playing in an area not explicitly forbidden but at least unexpected… fortunately I had a previously-scheduled tetanus booster a few days later so I was save from a certain, horrible death).
You know how when you’re riding down a hill on your bike, and you look backward to see how close the car behind you is to the side of the road, and your bike tires drop down from the macadam to the ditch beside the road, and when you pick yourself up and realize that you are bleeding from your back and shoulder that you rush home to your mother for comfort and aid, only to hear her mutter, “Damn, I just mended that shirt!”
Yeah, I hated that.
You know how sometimes you’re using a mandolin slicer to get beautiful, uniform tomato slices and thinking “I’m going to be extra careful because it’s very easy to hurt yourself on a mandolin slicer.”
And then someone strikes up a conversation with you and you mandolin slice the shit out of your thumb and some of the nail comes off and you bleed on the tomatoes.
Ron Popeil can fuck right off.
You know how you’re 5 and it’s a beautiful summer day and you run out of the house barefoot for the sheer and simple joy of feeling the grass under your little tootsies and your mom yells at you to get inside and put on your sandals and you blow her off because she’s clearly a lunatic to think that there’s anything about that grass that could possibly warrant shoe-wearing and then your little tootsie finds its way to the business end of a bee (for the first time ever) and you think you’re going to die and you scream blood-curdlingly in agony at a volume that startles the neighbors and terrifies your mother, who rushes outside to discover, irritatingly, that you are entirely intact and she drags you inside, barks at you to stop screaming because it’s not helping anything and, as she carefully plucks out the stinger with tweezers and tortures you with the fucking bactine, she lectures you about how moms actually do know a thing or two and little girls need obey orders or this is what they get and you agree and apologize and then the second the bandaid is in place you run right back outside shoeless because you’re 5 and you sort of forgot everything that’s just happened because it’s a beautiful summer day and the grass feels so good under your little tootsies and then…um… you step on another bee, the pain of which is subdued only by the absolute horror of having to confess your folly to your already livid mother, whom you later learn was, at the time of the second beetastrophe, on the telephone pleading with the neighbors not to call the police as they’ve threatened to do having thought the screaming was the result of child abuse?
(Okay… so it wasn’t quite as bloody or ER-worthy as most other posts, but…it was a pretty rotten day for me. I don’t remember any other days of my 5th year.)
You’re just slashing 3" trees with one hand, and pushing them down with the other, and you’re cut about 75 trees and then the wind picks up, the saw kicks back and you saw directly into your knee?
It’s a quick 90MPH trip to the ER by your coworker, followed by the receptionist asking you, “could you please fill out these forms?” and you reply, “normally, I’d love to but my right leg is half severed by a chainsaw and I’m bleeding profusely?”
FYI - that does get you instant admittance to the ER. Due to bone growth, I have what looks like a second kneecap but my knee function perfectly, even though I was told I’d have less than 50% functionality afterwards.
Let’s not forget when I slipped barefoot on a piece of plywood and ripped a 6" gash on the top of my foot; looked down at that and said to myself, “that’s going to hurt in a minute.” Managed to get back in the house and sit on the bathroom floor before it started gushing. Just put pressure on it while I got out the betadine, cleaned the wound, and held it closed with butterfly bandages. It was interesting wearing a shoe at work for the next week or so.
Need I say I have a huge medkit in my house, truck and car?
Actual audible chuckle produced.
You know how when you’re five and you ride your bike while dad’s jogging. And then you come to the downhilll section and he tells you to slow down?
yeah…I lost my right eyebrow and it didn’t grow back for 15 years. But I am sure the exercise of carrying me and the bike home, then explaining to mum what happened was good for him.
So, ya know how when you need to drill through a sheet of stainless steel and you don’t have a vise or anything, so like a dumbass you hold the metal sheet with your
hand on top of a table and start drilling. Of course the drill bit, being rather dull, gets stuck in the hole and the metal sheet starts spinning and slices like 1/4 inch
into your thumb.
I hate when that happens!
Or, after watching the guy on Jackass staple his nutsack to his leg, you, having no nutsack of course, decide to simply smack a stapler into your leg thereby stapling
your pants to your leg!
I hate when that happens too!
But in both cases, I didn’t feel any pain or cry like a little bitch!
Cause I’m a big girl! teehee 
You know when you’re working on a craft project and while holding the Xacto knife you suddenly get an itch between your shoulder blades?
I hate when that happens.