yeah. well, took a photo of my latest cut, but, after the last three, i cannot possibly win, or lose, i dunno?.... Mate!.... is there a prize for this that i don't know about? A pack of flintstones bandaids or something?
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Not sure about a prize. I have actually myself taken a photograph of a cut, but when viewed on the computer machine I judged it was piddling and silly and but a scratch...and so I did not post...
Sorry for those in hope of gore, just a helpful hint. The picture below is a good indication that, perhaps you may have cut yourself. After the lather for the second pass, I noticed a tell tale sign that i had nicked myself.
Attachment 108929
Twas but a scratch. But, when I saw the brush, I was like, WHAT THE....
Ever forward, endeavor to persevere!!
O.K.,,,,,,,,
Twas a dark and stormy night, to turn right was to home, but, I chose left;
or did I;
Did someone else make that choice for me?
Why my truck headed down that path of darkness is unknown.
The only thing certain was; before the sun would set again, widows would grieve and children would weep........
The rain and low temperatures made visibility difficult, looking through my front windshield.
The first thing I remember seeing was the flashing hazard lights on the women’s minivan. As slowed down, I made out the outline of three or four motorcycles parked ahead of the minivan.
There seemed to be a struggle going on inside the van. As my truck passed the van, it became clear to me that this was a violent assault on a young woman.
I exited my truck and approached the van. I shouted, “Enough, let her go!”
One of the punks turned rapidly wielding a deadly straight razor in his hand. Another punk pulled a handgun from his waist. I instantly recognized the straight as a rusty, chipped Wade & Butcher of enormous size; the kind my friend Wullie likes to buy.
He shouted, “You’re next!” The punk with the straight razor stepped forward, swinging it at my face; I redirected his swing, receiving a nasty cut on my left hand.
My right hand went to 4 o’clock and summoned the Devil’s Mouthpiece (Colt 45 Government Model).
Screams and the smell of burnt powder filled the air. Steam rose off the bodies and the spent casings lying on the ground.
The young woman was alive and franticly dialing 911 on her cell phone.
I spotted a half drank bottle of Absolut on the seat of one of the cycles. I poured the rest of the bottle on my wound. Reaching down, I pocketed the bloody Wade & Butcher; I knew my friend Wullie would want it.
My work was done here.
Ok folks, here is my entry. This actually happened at work yesterday; thank reardensteel for reminding about this thread. Long story short, my friends razor "chopped me". The back story is in a thread I started in the workshop forum, since I was actually doing some checking of the blade for a co-worker. Check it out, have a good laugh, and enjoy. If you can't laugh at yourself...well, everybody else will :p
Attachment 109034
You mean that's it?!?! :rofl2:
lol yeah, I'm glad it was...I freaking hate needles and stitches are waaaaaaay up there on the list even though I work in healthcare they still suck, but as mamed as I was :boohoo: I thought the story was pretty funny the way it happened, and thought a good laugh at my expense was in order. ";"
OK, Tiddle, you've shown good sportsmanship here, and I applaud that.
Still, after all the buildup, the suspense, and the anticipation...YOU MEAN THAT'S IT?!?!
All I can say is new skin is some awesome stuff...it actually was deeper than it looks now, but the whole bleeding in a clinic thing doesn't go well with my boss; sooooo the wound care nurses in the clinic across the hall from us let me borrow some silver nitrate and new skin.