Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Troost story

This morning I went to work with an inch-long gash in my face.

It extends from just below the corner of my right eye, up and to the left across the bridge of my nose, and ends between my eyes. It was put there yesterday by the ring of the jerk off who punched me as he tried to take my wallet while I gassed up my car in east Kansas City.

I like to think I gave as good as I got. After delivering some well-timed Tony Soprano-style punches, I held the guy with the help of some bystanders until the cops showed up. And I kept my wallet.

That's what I'm telling people. Of course the entire story is a complete fabrication, except the part about the inch-long gash. That really happened.

It's just that the true story is too embarrassing to use in everyday conversation. Nevertheless, I'll relate it here, since that's what blogs are for.

A few months ago I installed one of those fold down attic ladders in our garage to make it easier to access the storage in the attic.

The layout of our house is such that you must go through the garage to get to the basement. So after finishing dinner last night I head down to the basement to get some tools to fix a problem we were having with a door handle (different story).

Anyway, unbeknownst to me (but beknownst to the studio audience), my Supermodel Wife had lowered the aforementioned attic ladder. Not all the way though. She hadn't actually unfolded the lower part of the ladder; she had just pulled the hinged part down. So there was a nice sharp edge of plywood at right about my eye level.

All this happened at about 7 p.m., as the setting sun was shining through the west window of our garage, its glare obscuring the view.

The last thing I remember thinking before I walked Jack Tripper-like into the pulled down ladder was "Why is this pull-string hanging down so low?" SLAM!!!

Of course I was hellapissed at the time. I spouted few choice invectives and blamed my Supermodel Wife for lowering the ladder to decapitation level.

The truth is I was mostly mad at myself for being so stupid and clumsy. And honestly, I still am, which is why I need to come up with a better story, like the mugging described above.

I'm also toying with the idea that the injury is the result of an amateur boxing match (I could be a contender).

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5 comments:

  1. Holy confessional! That's high comedy. Post a picture already.

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  2. OMG that's so funny. You have to laugh at yourself.

    I've had my fair share but I think the most embarrassing and memorable and one I will never live down...is one that left me depantsed and soaking wet...I'll have to blog about it...long story...

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  3. Remind me to tell you sometime about the time I sprained my ankle...PLAYING PING PONG!!!!

    Very physical sport, ping pong!

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  4. Go with the wallet theft tale. Better yet, intense carjacking scenario with the kid in the back seat. Embellish. The ladder thing isn't nearly sexy enuf. :-)

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  5. Yeah. The key is to find something that is cool, yet also believable. That's really tough for me, since it's so unbelievable that I could be cool.

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