Ha ha. How 'bout:Originally Posted by jrandom
"...split my face open, cracked my eyebrow and nose, wrecked the rotator cuff in my shoulder, and got cuts in my face that required 8 stitches to close. When I went to A&E. After recovering from carking it on the kitchen floor. As you do. After semi-severe trauma. When you have a low tolerance of pain. And you're a wuss."
Actually, it was quite funny in some ways. Firstly, we'd just moved into our house, and I was trying to make the most of my 'spare' time by doing as many jobs as possible to fix up the shit-heap we'd bought. I thought I could fit in one more job before dinner, and went to the gargre in my sox to get a caulking gun. As you do. The WankerMobile was parked against the back wall of the gargre so I could get my VF500 in through the narrow door to park it between the cars, so naturally I took a shortcut along the bumper bar. In my sox... As you do...
Secondly, when I realised I'd done a moderate amount to fuck my face and shoulder (I could see blood all over my shirt sleeve), I thought I'd beter go inside. When my wife saw the blood, she went "What have you done to your arm?!?" I said, "Nothing - have a look at my face." She went "OH MY GOD!!", then I collapsed in heap, dead to the world, only she thought I really was dead, and was calling me, shaking me, etc.
When I came to (not a pleasant experience), she abandoned dinner, and got the boys organised so we could go in the car, and told them to send the neighbour's kid home. So they did: "Amos! Go home!!" So he did, thinking no doubt, "WTF have I done?!?" (or the 8-year-old equivalent), and we didn't see him again for WEEKS.
In the car, I'm lying on the reclined front seat, and the kids are in the back. Michael is squeamish (like me), goes into shock, and throws up all over the floor. Oh dear...
So after the bleeding and the waiting and the poking and proddings, and stitching and injecting and the dribbling of anaesthetic in the eye (now THAT feckin hurts!), and the getting of droogs, we go home, and poor Mrs FS has to get me settled in a comfy chair, resurrect dinner, put the boys to bed, and clean the vomit out of the car.
The crap wives have to put up with.....
Luckily, she was out of town for a few days when I last busted myself up, so I had a few days to prepare....
Oh yeah - when I went back to work (only been in my job a few weeks), with a black eye, stitches, and sticking plaster, my workmates wanted to know what I'd done to piss my wife off so badly.![]()








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A wheelchair would've been better.
, but then again, I'm easily amused






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