2005-04-26 - 10:36 a.m.
I cut myself shaving this morning. Damn good. Right across my neck. Red tinted Bourbon poured from the cut. It just would not stop. Blood dribbled down my neck. It splashed across the white porcelain sink. I noticed the mirror was also spattered with drops of red.
I kinda wish my lovely wife hadn�t already left for work , because I was thinking it would have been pretty fucking funny to come running out of my bathroom with my hand around my throat, with blood gushing out like I had just stepped out of a Monty Python skit and screaming like a crazed lunatic.
She loves my little practical jokes. Levity makes a marriage work.
Also, it would have been good if she was there, as I have no clue on how to handle things like this. Despite being a Boy Scout - and not just any Boy Scout, but a patrol leader (The Beaver Patrol, I shit you not), and having all sorts of merit badges in first aid and emergency stuff� I am pretty much useless when ever there is blood involved.
Don�t come to me if you�ve injured yourself. The best I could do is quote some funny British TV shows and maybe tie a square knot. That�s it.
So, I went with my default method of handling problems and tried ignoring the cut, but that didn�t work, and I ended up ruining the collar of one of my best dress shirts. Damn it.
I tried direct pressure. Maybe a bit too much pressure, because when I came to, I found that I was still bleeding. I also now, had a headache.
Huh.
I tried one of those styptic pencils that stings like a mother fucker and leaves white residue and looks like you just got a hickey from Tony Montana. No good.
Nothing worked.
I had spent half an hour trying to stop the hemorage and was now late for work. I was at the point that I seriously considered slapping a kotex across my neck wrapping it up with a conservative, - but classy - neck tie and heading off to my 9:30 meeting.
I thought better of that idea and opted for the more socially acceptable solution: A band aid. It�s has Batman on it.
No. I don�t have kids.
Batman rocks.
I�m a 41 year old executive consultant with a Batman band aid across his throat. Yea, I�m so fucking cool.
It was either that or come to work looking like I either had a run in with a Columbian gangster or have some strange fetish for feminine hygiene products. So all things considered, I�m thinking the Batman band aid was a pretty rational solution.
Anyhow.
I�ve also realized that I�ve been feeling funny lately.
Not funny �ha-ha�.
Nor, not feeling funny as when I try to feel/touch something that I do it in a strange way, and people say things like �Wow. You sure do feel funny. Don�t smoosh it, gently touch it, swirl your finger��
Nope. I feel funny, in an unfunny way.
I kinda feel �Blah�.
Boogers!
See? Nothing. That wasn�t even remotely funny. I could type �Monkey Boogers!� and still nothing. I sit here blankly staring at the words when normally I�d be spitting coffee out my nose.
Drunken Monkey Boogers
Nothing. Perhaps I�m just woozy from blood lose.
Gotta go�My neck is menstruating again�.
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