What would RTH do?

That is the question.

If I were in a highschool yearbook, they would vote me most likely to die of a lynch mob. That does not prevent me from opening my mouth and serving a warm hearty cup of STFU to people who deserve it. My dark scathing humor will leave no matter of existence untouched. My innocence will touch your soul.

Welcome to a warped world turned inside out and upside down. All sorts of discretion advised.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

It is only funny........

Until someone gets hurt.

Then it is fucking hilarious.

I love that one liner, especially considering the only great talent I have mastered beyond certainty in my short span of life is personal injury and liability. No one can beat me in self inflicted pains and wounds, except perhaps my sister who was once hit by a parked car. True story! People tend to be real wieners about getting injured. Being a socially inept person, I never understand the pity party when someone is injured. I think people who coddle and fuss people who have been injured totally miss the big picture. Of course when you are injured it hurts like a bitch. Sometimes, I cry and scream and whine and wince like a little child. But once it is said and done you have battle scars. These are accomplishments you can be proud of and weave impressive stories out of. Most of the times they are not as impressive, but ridiculously funny. But that is OK because you will be giving people the gift of laughter. Most of the time they will be laughing at your excessive stupidity or unbalanced ineptitude. But that is OK, it is still funny.

As I said, my one true talent is self inflicting injury. I'm quite convinced I'm missing the hand-eye coordination of my nervous system. Rather than a human being I'm more like a wobbly mass of jell-o that gets into pickles. And I have no qualms telling tales of my adventures in ineptitude and self injury.

Lets go top to bottom, beginning with my face. I'll never ever wear clip on earrings in my life. You know why? Prior to my wisdom teeth being removed I have had only one surgical procedure in my life. I wore a pair of clip on earrings once. I pressed them in real tight and then forgot about them for a while. Eventually, I had to get them surgically removed because my ears grew around the earrings.  I had earrings embedded in my earlobes. Speaking of surgical procedure and wisdom teeth. I was so loopy and high after my wisdom teeth were removed. I ran across the parking lot skipping, waving my arms "Lets fly home. Lets fly home". My parents for all their skills in child embarrassment and mortification really failed in their divine duty of embarrassing me, by failing to capture this imagery. I would have fucking loved to see that.

Then once in high school I had a blue beard for a few days. It was a field hockey injury. I attacked from the wrong side when the opponent was about to hit the ball. A foolish mistake. Quite a cardinal mistake in field hockey. I got cracked in the jaw real hard with a hockey stick. My family must be descended from Iron Man's family because I'm surprised my jaw didn't break or crack. Because I heard a terribly loud crack ring in my brain and I literally saw stars. The next day, I had blue-green-gray shades of swelling showing up on my jaw. Most women would freak out about such a hideous deformity of the face. I was more like "Yeah, see that, I got whacked in the jaw with a hockey stick. Yeah, I'm pretty strong and impressive like that.

I'm not really sure if this constitutes as an injury because I was perfectly fine and unscathed. But when I was four or five, my parents had to rush me to the hospital. I swallowed one of my great grandmothers blood pressure pills because it was colorful and sugarcoated. I thought it was gems. I must have a bionic blood pressure system or the pharmacy manufacturers were filling the foil with gems because it had absolutely no affect on me at all. Not even a momentary abnormal drop or increase in blood pressure. If my father were to theorize, he would suggest that it exploded some capillaries in my brain. All my life I have been such an idiot savant that his one unfulfilled mission in life will be cracking open my skull to see what is wrong in the gray matter in there. 

Finally, a good chunk of my front incisors are fake. The dentist did a brilliant job with it. You can barely tell unless you look real close. The reason my sister hit me in the face with a door.  Yes, alcohol was involved - but would you believe me if I told you I was sober?  I was finishing up one bottle and going to the garage to get another when bang, my sister opened the door to come in and bang went my face. My sister, her friend and I all went into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I just got smashed in the face with a door. How fucking hilarious. I'm still doubling uncontrollably at how funny this is when I notice the two staring at me horrified. I'm like what? They tell me my whole mouth is bleeding. I rush to the restroom and sure enough my mouth looks like a sloppy vampire who just finished a massive meal. There was blood everywhere. I was my mouth and rinse out all the blood. Finally when the blood is gone, I'm like where are my teeth. There is a fucking gateway of India in my mouth where are my teeth. I look at the bottle I am still clutching and lo and behold teeth pieces floating in it. My only thought was should I really drink alcohol that has my teeth swimming in it or should I toss it.

Unfortunately, despite all my face stories my sister still beats me. She cracked her head on the potty and split her eyebrow. She had to get stitches. And the only thing she was concerned about while being all stitched up was her tomato soup at home that was getting too cold. Tell me how do you beat that?  One of my classmates also beat me. She was my lab partner and inhaled sulfur dioxide that we made in a lab. For an entire week she would tap me on my back and go "I have sulfur up my nose" with an accusatory look and tone, like I did this to her. I can't beat snorting sulfur either.

I have a very teeny weeny scar on my left boob. I was about five when I received that. I was playing with my cousins when I got into a fight with my cousin sister. She got so mad at me, that she bit me. She didn't just bite me anywhere, she bit me on my left boob or rather left chest because I didn't have boobs at five. She didn't just bit me there. Bloody demon vampire child drew blood. I ran home bawling and crying. Not only was I bitten on my boob, but had to suffer the indignation of showing every adult what had been done. Apparently, they need to see the scar before they reprimand and punish. I just love making shit up about being bitten in the boob. Thankfully over time the boobs grew big and enormous that the scar is almost invisible now. Only I know the spot because of the indignity I suffered.

Now this one is not really an injury, but a story of how my sister and I were traumatized. My sister has to drive me to the hospital at 2 Am one night. I'll skip the details here for now. We park in the ramp and decide to access the hospital through the Sky walk. The attendant at that entrance is half tranced and gives us vague directions to overnight urgent care. Most of the regular entrances and wings are empty. We take more than a few wrong turns and end up at a dead end closed door. Some young intern sees us at the door and lets us in. We are walking around trying to figure where urgent care is, when we realize we are in ER and trauma ward. I tell my sister we have to get out soon before we see something gory. Thats when we hear a woman scream. Is that what I think it is? Please tell me she is dying and not what I think it is? She screamed again. Oh my God! I am going to faint. The woman behind this curtain is delivering a child. Behind this curtain is the result of breeding and child birth. Oh God save me! Thankfully another doctor found us and led us out a nearby door that was urgent care.





The above image is not a tiny misshapen penis. It is just my thumb. It is the only injury, I have photographed. And indeed what a magnificent specimen of self inflicted injury. I was driving home from work one day and feeling bored with the usual scenery of fields. My eyes fell uon the cigarette lighter and began to wonder how does this work. I pumped it a few times till it got red hot. I looked at the red coils and wondered how hot might this be, how does a cigarette light with this. Then I did the only logical thing to do. I took the red hot coils to my thumb and pressed it. Ow fucking Ow Ow Ow. The cigarette lighter had branded me with some third serious third degree burns. The picture does it no justice. For how painful it was, it was quite a pretty burn - nice concentric spirals. I wish the scar had been more permanent so I could show off. I wonder if I should burn myself with a cigarette lighter again. I'll do it if anyone wants to see me brand myself again.

Every now and then when I'm exerting myself like running, dancing or playing DDR or Dance Party my left knee will give and bend a little. That is because I mangled my left knee. I was going down the stairs in the dark and missed the last few stairs. Now what I was doing causing me to fall is my dirty little secret. I let out the shrillest screech of agony. I was like the lady in the ads "Help I fallen and I can't move". I simply could not move my left leg and was convinced it was broken. I'll let you in on a different secret. One of my fears is that I'll fall down the stairs and just lay there and die because my family is so oblivious, they may not notice me gone for a while. Thankfully, this time around my mom nearby and helped me to the hospital again at close to midnight. What was impressive about this injury is that the doctor offered me shots of painkiller for the terrible shape my knee was in when I got there, but I turned them down. I might cry like a baby, but I have a good threshold. They even had several x-rays worried about something broken, luckily it was just torn muscles and ligaments. The doctor said I could have a bad knee for life.

Once I was going to school on my birthday. My mom had bought me a nice new dress. I looked pretty without my uniform. I also had a big bag of candies to hand out. I was so happily skipping away that I lost balance and fell. I had scraped the skin off both knees and was bleeding. I got blood stains all over my pretty new dress. When I got home that evening, mom was baking me a cake. I was so excited when she was pulling it out the over that I ran to the oven door and kneeled on it. So on one of my birthdays past as a kid, I scraped and baked my knee.

I once chipped my ankle by tripping over my own shoe. That hilarious one liner makes for a great story. I vividly remember it was Christmas eve. I went to the garage for something, I don't remember what. That is when I tripped over my shoe and badly twisted my ankle. My ankle kind of banged on the garage floor. I hobbled back in, writhing a bit in agony. As a pretty active kid, I've sprained my ankle a million times. I never thought it was a big deal. Excruciatingly painful, but as common as a common cold. However, on Christmas morning when my family saw that it had bloated to the size of a gigantic blue alien potato and my shoe wouldn't fit they thought it was time to see the doctor. The doctor immediately had an x-ray done. Then he showed me my x-ray and how I now have a permanent floatie. I had chipped my ankle bone and one piece of my bone was merrily floating away from its home. They don't fix these things or remove the pieces. Your bone chip just floats in there. The poor doctor was trying to suppress a giggle as I told him how I did this to myself by tripping over my show. I must note, I still throw my shoes around and almost trip over them. Maybe someday, I'll have a right ankle floatie. But if you are around me and in my house, watch out for the shoes.

Sometimes I like to show feats of my non existent strength to impress people. My friend, the sulfur snorting lab partner was my partner in shop class as well. Which translated into, I did all the hard labor like drilling, sawing, lifting, clamping while she did light work like filing. Usually, the metal we had to work with was cut into manageable strips. But this one day all that was there were the full length iron rods that weigh as much as a few baby elephants. We had to lift it and clamp it into the vices along the table and cut to size. I told my friend that we could lift it together and do it. So we both lift the iron rod and we're about to get it to a vice when my friend lets go. The weight is almost too much for me to handle alone and I drop the iron rod on my foot. Thank god it rolled off and just left a few bruises. My mom poor thing had to take me on another one of many trips to the doctor. It was another one of those injuries which I could show off and say "Yeah, see that. I tried to weight lift a massive iron rod. Yeah, I failed, but it was a valiant effort".

There are a few more worthy injuries to mention like the one time I got clocked in the crotch while playing cricket, or the one time I had a twig pierce the webbing of my toes, or the scary incident when I was hit by a rickshaw while riding a bike and badly injured myself, or when I burned my hand while trying to save my cousin brother from burning his face - but those weren't really self inflicted. They were genuine accidents. But they are interesting and hilarious battle scar tales as well.

Oh well, the next time I do something stupid or someone else does something stupid, I don't want you to look at me and go aww. I want to you laugh, because it is fucking hilarious. And even if I am in a hospital bed with my body half mummified, I still expect you to laugh - because I'm sure no matter how grave the injury, I probably look fucking ridiculous.

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