All of my friends know me as the kind of person who never really sees that proverbial line that indicates when to stop a conversation, particularly when it’s heading down an unsavory path. That gene never fell to me, I suppose — but after a conversation with my mother this morning, I wonder if the gene was ever there to pass on. LOL (Not that my mother is uncouth, she’s a classy broad.)
See, I had a little accident this weekend.
I was moving these big plastic tubs to my mom’s garage, and the airplane hanger (which connects to the garage) was open. On top of that, it was already a particularly blustery day. Well, when the garage door and hanger door are open, it makes something of a Hurricane Katrina-force wind tunnel (unbeknownst to me, of course). So here I am walking with this stack of plastic tubs (3’x2′ hard plastic), and a stack of hard plastic lids sitting on top, heading to the garage. Anyone want to guess what happens?
The wind catches the stack o’ heavy plastic lids, lifts them up as if by magic (LEVIOSA!), and slams them smack on into my face. Of course, I dropped the tubs, as if in shock, and instantly grabbed my nose. And of course, i cried like a little bitch, because it fuckin’ hurt. So my nose is bleeding, I’m thinking “great, the plastic tubs broke my nose. I’ll have a bruised up schnoz for my birthday – NO PICTURES!” So I’m running into the house, trying to avoid the paparazzi that is determined to ruin my life, and sink into the couch while I wait for my mom to finish getting dressed.
The bleeding stops, and my nose is all kinds of red and real sore to the touch. (Sore as in, when I’m putting on a shirt, I’m all kinds of wary to avoid my nose altogether.)
Well, this morning I look in the mirror after getting out of the shower, and to my horror, I have a pimple right where the tub lids hit me. 🙁 And it was quite ready to be popped.
So I summoned the courage of God and squoze the shit out of it. And it squirted on the mirror.
So at least i got the bang for my buck.
So — back to where I was going with this. I told my mom via instant messenger today about that, and here was our conversation. This is living proof that I am my mother’s son.
Me: i got a zit on my nose 🙁
Me: right where that thing hit me.
Me: and was all white and stuff
Me: i thought i was going to die when i popped it
Me: and it squirted on the mirror
Mom: i told you it looked red
Mom: did you lick it clean
Me: it’s still sore, but not as bad
Me: i’m so going to blog that, btw
Mom: dont say it was me 😉
Me: oh no.
Me: it’s all about you.
Me: about how i get my grossness from you
Mom: it’s not me – really O:-)