Wednesday, March 22, 2006
fetch = bloody forehead
So the field that I usually play fetch with the dog in was muddy and full of water. But he clearly still needed exercise, so I decided that some vigorous apartment fetch was just what the dog-doctor ordered. But apartment fetch has to be pretty hardcore to be worthwhile for the dog, I feel. I do a lot of running away with his toys and doing a somersault onto the bed. This seems to make him both excited and angry. I also do a lot of picking up the ball, faking him out, and then spinning around and throwing the toy in the other direction.
But yesterday I made a terrible miscalculation, and did a wicked-fast fake-out spin that resulted in my forehead colliding against that little metal thing that the door knob latches onto in door frames. It hurt a lot, and I fell down. Then my forehead started bleeding, and now I have a red spot right on my hairline. I guess I'm glad it's at my hairline, though, and not between my eyes or something. That would be embarassing.
"What happened to your head?"
"Oh, I bashed it against a door playing indoor fetch with my dog."
Right. Some days I feel really dumb
But yesterday I made a terrible miscalculation, and did a wicked-fast fake-out spin that resulted in my forehead colliding against that little metal thing that the door knob latches onto in door frames. It hurt a lot, and I fell down. Then my forehead started bleeding, and now I have a red spot right on my hairline. I guess I'm glad it's at my hairline, though, and not between my eyes or something. That would be embarassing.
"What happened to your head?"
"Oh, I bashed it against a door playing indoor fetch with my dog."
Right. Some days I feel really dumb
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You know, the ONLY time in my life I ever had to get stitches was that one time I opened a door into my forehead.
Right between the eyes, you could say.
(sigh)
Right between the eyes, you could say.
(sigh)
My worst moment has to be spilling Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup on my arm and leg while I was sick with the cold. Oh did i mentioned that I was anal and made sure that the soup came to a boil on the stove before I sat it on the armrest of my couch while I was sitting down? plop! much pain, I still have the scar on my arm to prove I got beat by the noodle soup. Geez that was bad. Burned by chicken noodle soup, good thing I am not trying to acquire a girlfriend, because that is lame. But not as lame as the vice president shoting a dude on a fake Duck HUNT! Shaboosh! Where is my drum set when I need it!
Well, I can trump all three of you. The only stitches I've ever had were when I was like ten.
What happened was this:
A cuckoo clock fell on my head on Easter Sunday.
I will never forget the look on the nurse's face when my dad explained what happened.
Thus: no one gets my sympathy.
What happened was this:
A cuckoo clock fell on my head on Easter Sunday.
I will never forget the look on the nurse's face when my dad explained what happened.
Thus: no one gets my sympathy.
i had typed out a little story about the time i had to get stitches, but i was stopped by that smenita thing, so you'll all just have to imagine your own stories where andrew has to get stitches on his head.
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