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Smashed Bottles


Ashoka the Great

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More people need to blog about how they smashed a full bottle of expensive booze, so that i would not feel as bad.

Last weekend, emboldened by White Sambuca, I attempted a daring maneuver while riding a friend's Goped. I attempted a jump of sorts. I will not describe it, lest someone else copy it and then try to sue me for encouraging them.

By the way, did anyone know that Goped's aren't built for jumping?

Long story short....I ended up going over the handlebars and landing quite roughly on asphalt. Of course I was wearing a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads and gloves? OK, I lie. My protection consisted of a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sneakers. This might help to explain how I tore open my left knee, the back of my left hand and, in a particularly gruesome way, my right elbow.

At first I thought my face had bounced off the ground, but apparently Sambuca did not prevent me from getting my arms between my handsome visage and the pavement. My face actually bounced off my right forearm.

After running my various wounds under water to wash out the bits of gravel therein, I bandaged myself up as best I could in the absence of anything resembling a first aid kit. (Basically, I used soaked paper towel as a compress, holding it firmly on each wound -- beginning with the worst -- until the bloodflow had slowed to a trickle. This took quite some time.) Even now, nearly a week later, my right elbow continues to be a 'slow leak', as each time I bend my arm I re-open the wound. (Just try to go for a week without bending your arm. Surprisingly difficult.)

And, as I said to my wife yesterday, "My everything hurts." (For example., I can't raise my right arm more than 90 degrees without experiencing rather a lot of pain.) The missus is strangely unsympathetic with respect to my crippled state. Something about it being "your own damn fault."

Whatever that means.

So....smashed bottles? Well no, not really. But I'm pretty sure that consuming a large amount of alcohol and then concussing oneself so that one spends the next eighteen hours driving The Great Porcelain Bus qualifies as a tragic loss of expensive alcohol.

Feel better, Alfred?

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Oh it's not so bad. I'll end up with some minor scarring in various places, but other than that I should be fine. I'm slightly worried about my right shoulder, but doing a bit of 'at home physio' should get that working again.

Every now and then my wife tries to remind me that I ceased being a teenager some time ago. (During Ronald Reagan's second term, to be a bit more precise.) The implication is that, since I don't heal quite as fast as I once did, I should stop doing stupid things just to see if they can be done.

This seems like eminently sensible advice. I look forward to hearing it again, next time....

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Road Rash is not fun, but certainly not the worst.

You'll start feeling normal again around 2 weeks, the sores/itchy/open wounds will generally close up after the first week or at least on't be a pain in the ass when you have to bend them.

I wish you godspeed, fellow soldier of crazy !@#$.

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You need to listen to the Missus.

Yes, surprisingly reading this has consoled me, i feel a little bit less remorseful about doing a faceplant with a full unopened bottle of chivas in my hand, and watching it shatter on the floor. And getting told that it was my own damned fault, when it clearly was not.

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Please tell me you eventually made it to the hospital at least once during this past week?
Nope. I had a tetanus shot in 2006. I'm good.

Now here is a man who understands that hospitals are for sissies.

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Please tell me you eventually made it to the hospital at least once during this past week?
Nope. I had a tetanus shot in 2006. I'm good.
Now here is a man who understands that hospitals are for sissies.

Echoing this. Also, my wife broke a bottle of Ouzo a few months ago. I was sad.

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