Yucky eww gross...

Ummm....

I stacked my bike once, about twelve years ago now. Went flying down the hill and forgot about the speed bump and gravel car park at the bottom.



I have gravel in my elbow that hasn't moved in twelve years from that. It looks kinda nasty, and you can feel some of it if you press on it. But it doesn't hurt or nothing...


So a few years ago, I had another bike crash. This one was just embarrassing, I didn't have my hands on the handlebar, was just happily pedalling away and went over a pothole (it was dusk). Grabbed the handlebars too late, and went into the road and the curb. My leg itched a bit, so I rubbed at it while I was riding home, and when I got home I found out I had two patches of white bleeding on and off.



Didn't really look that bad, tried to keep it clean, and when it hurt like hell the next day, I tried not to walk on it.

By the second or third day, my knee was swelling up and I couldn't do anything but keep it half bent.

By the time I made it to the doctors on the third or fourth day, it was flaming hot, bright red around the patches of fat (the pretty white stuff I could see where ALL the skin was gone) and I couldn't walk. I then spent three weeks applying burn cream and dressing and bandaging my knee (as both cuts are right below my knee). Used to have to painfully pull the damn dressing off at least twice a day.

They haven't healed over to this day.

As a result, and I'll take a picture if anyone -really- wants to see it, I have two rather large pieces of scar tissue which never healed over. One just below my knee inside my leg, and one about an inch below the crease of my knee on the back. They're both very soft, a little puffy and feel somewhat like tissue paper.

Nyah, I thought of something even better.


My great-great-great grandmother opened the first brothel in an old Australian town.

Woa Bau...those bike stories rock. I thought mine was good - fell of my bike, stick stabbed into me - ...but ouch!

Pics!

I'm obviously not safe on two wheels. One second, I'll figure out how to post this damn pic.

www.geocities.com/bausayelle/pics.html

I'm too lazy to go looking for image hosting.


Edit: for some reason, imghost only ever worked for me once.

I've been to hospital with a suspected broken neck from a rugby accident, great fun.

I was playing again the very next game

I've been performing ballet since I was 4 years old. Jazz, pop, hip hop, slam dancing (aka break dancing), opera and contemporo ballitte or however you pronounce it.

I'm a massive Pavarotti fan

I kicked my brother down the stairs once, which gave him concussion from hitting the brick wall with his forehead at the bottom.

Ouch. Last time I kicked mine down the stairs he was fine. There was the time though, where I kicked a hamper down the stairs, and it happened to have an open can of white paint in it, which got all over our red carpet.

I tried to commit suicide over a spanse of 4 months by starving myself.

Why?

I tried to do that once.. it only lasted for 2 days, because my mom knew what I was doing and started cooking all the things I like to eat.

childish foolishness...

really? O.o

oh.. when I did it it was because my entire class wanted to beat the out of me for something I didn't even do. No one would speak to me, I got threatening letters in my locker, I had to change my schedule, rumors were blown out of porportion, not to mention the times they actually would say things to my face.

Somehow I had forgotten about it till you said that.

My managers at work when I worked at a movie theater would bring in big 7-Eleven cups full of rum or whiskey and I would get mildly drunk at work. This is when I was 18.

They should be fired. It's hard enough dealing with salespeople when they aren't drunk.

I had this oddly crazy week once.

Someone I'd liked very much had just broken up with me (for my best friend) and I was insanely pissed off (even worse when I found out it was for her! Some friend!)

Anyhow, I don't recall much of that time, but I was pretty aggressive, breaking things, punching things, et cetera, and I couldn't eat at all, that week. I ate twice in the entire time, and I was sitting there the whole time thinking "If Pete's parents realise I'm not eating, they're gonna put me in hospital, and I don't wanna be in hospital." Pete being my good mate from school who lived down the road.

Two partially eaten dinners in a week. I tried to eat a mini frankfurt thingy but I nearly threw it right back up halfway through. Icky.

Salespeople? Try being on the other end of that, and dealing with Mr. and Mrs. Stupidmoron every 5 minutes.