6. The Sparkling Blister - This was what inspired me to write this blog. After the screwing at the hands of the man, I moved on to a new restaurant. We like to bring out ice cream with sparklers to those who are fortunate enough to celebrate their birthday with us. The process is oft accompanied by much song, festivity and bru-ha-ha.
I was recently bringing a sparklered ice cream out a patron when it started to tumble over. Not wanting the prospect of it igniting the carpet and burning down the building to interfere with the celebration, I reached out to grab it with my right (not left) hand. As a result, I got a sweet burn on the edge of my pointer finger. A wonderful bump of a blister appeared. Almost two weeks later, there is still a discolored blotch on my finger. I'm sure it will go away in time, but for now, it's still a scar.
5. The Juice Box Mishap - I've always been really smart. One of my smartest moments was when I tried to cut open a frozen juice box to eat the frosty-delicious counterpart to the liquid apple juice we all know and love. In my genius, I put a part of my thumb (the opposable part) right in my cutting lane in an attempt to stabilize the box. As soon as I started cutting, I felt a pain shooting across my poor appendage. I dropped my knife and stared at it. Astounded by the extent of my intelligence, I only hoped that it would not leave a scar. About seven years later, it sure has. Tiny, insignificant, yet present.
4. The Adenoid Annoy - I was born with large adenoids. For those of you who don't know what they are, adenoids are mechanisms in your nostrils that help filter out harmful bacteria. They're especially important during infancy when your immune system isn't as rocking as your adult one. However, in some situations, like mine, the adenoids are so big that not even air can get through the nostrils. For those of you who don't know, air is important for humans at all stages of development. Thus, the decision to have them removed was made.
I have not actually looked into my nostrils to see the scar, but I'm sure its there. Along with it are a few other side effects. Some very observant people have told me that one of my nostrils is bigger than the other. This is because one side of my nose isn't even connected to the cartilage - I assume this was a result of the surgery. Obviously my parents spared no expense when getting a highly qualified surgeon for me.
Also, a good friend has made fun of my eating habits. It turns out that, unlike what I do, you're not supposed to breath in as you take a bite. Try as I might, I can't consistently breathe through my nose as I'm eating. Breathing through my mouth causes me to get a lot of extra air stuck in my stomach, which will require that I lie down after eating really slurpy foods to ease the discomfort.
It also affects my athletic life. Last week playing soccer, I tried as hard as I could to breath in through my nose, because this is apparently helps all your muscles get their oxygen better. Instead, it just felt like I wasn't breathing at all. I think the nose-breathing-motor-skills that infants usually develop was withheld from me, because of my gargantuan adenoids.
3. The Doctor Jack Parallel - One night at college last year, I started having a pain in my gut. I tried to sleep it off, but just ended up waking up in the middle of the night and throwing up. I woke up with the same pain in the morning and talked to a few others about it. I kept hearing that my symptoms were telling of appendicitis. As things got worse, I decided to check in at the hospital and, yep, they were going to take it out. That night.
The nice thing was that the entire school found out about it, and I got a sweet scar. Had I known how much sympathy I would get and how much school I would miss for a simple (as far as surgeries go) surgery I would have had it taken out years ago. Having staples in your body is also pretty sweet.
2. The First Kiss - I always liked animals. Granted, I was scared of our first family dog, Penelope the First. She was a huge German Shepherd though, so it was merited. She was also the nicest dog in the world.
There was a dog who wasn't the nicest one in the world though. That's because this dog was the spawn of Satan. I think its name was Sam, although I can't really remember. I probably blocked it out of my mind.
Anyways, I was holding this dog, who belonged to my cousins. He started to growl a little bit and I was quickly encouraged to put him down. Thinking I could coax it back to happiness, I held on a little bit longer. When it continued to exhibit its spiteful demeanor, I decided to drop it. However, that was also the moment that Devil-Dog decided to jump off of my arms and bite my face. He bit me right in the corners of the mouth and hung from my face. I'm not lying or making this up. I had to get a few stitches in either side and get some shots. To be honest, I'm not sure if you can actually see the scars since the Terrier of Terror's teeth were so small but this instance has left an emotional scar on me, if nothing else.
The worst was that a few years later, I was at the home of these same cousins. Lockjaw Lucifer came and tried to cuddle with me on my lap. My aunt proclaimed that it was his way of saying sorry. I saw through it. He was gloating. He was gloating at the fact that he gotten away with such a vicious attack with no repercussions. Because of my family connections, I could do nothing to get my revenge. If I had my way, I would have been the one gloating - as I drowned him in the toilet. Or a small pond. Or just bit him.
1. The Infamy - I was a young boy with lots of life. My parents worked at a bible college in Brazil and I worked at skipping the weekly chapels they went to. I was successful this night. I met up with some other Brazilian boys and played tag on the bible college grounds. I, of course, was not it because I'm so fleet on my feet. However, me and the other guys were all chased into the corner by the person who was it. He was obviously pretty good at tag.
It wasn't an inescapable corner though. There was a ledge sticking out that could give us sufficient leverage to scale the two-meter wall we had come to. Thus, we all did that. When I got to the top of the wall, however, with the person who was it running up behind me, I started to get second thoughts. The wall was really high. The other boys seemed to jump off it with no problem though. So, that's what I did.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground with all the other boys staring down at me. My forehead felt funny, so I tried to touch it. It was a weird sensation not feeling your forehead where it was supposed to be. Before I knew it, the chapel service had been called and my dad was picking me up and putting me in the back of our station wagon. The twenty-something woman I had an older-woman-crush on sat with me in the back. That was cool.
I remember the doctor stitching me up and giving me latex gloves and a syringe (needleless) as a souvenir. My body had some souvenirs as well - in the form of huge face scabs, a swollen-shut purple eye, and, of course, the coolest scar ever.
My sister refused to look at me for a few days and it took a really long time to heal. But it wasn't so bad. I'm not really even sure if it hurt all that much. We went back one time in the day to the place I fell to try and figure out what happened. Turns out that the wall I jumped (fell) off was right next to the students' dormitories. Thus, they used that area to hang their clotheslines. We think that I must have hooked my foot on one of the lines and become propelled face first into the concrete below.
Yet no brain damage or any other negative effects befell me from the accident. Just an amazing scar on my forehead that speaks of destiny, danger and manliness. I used to not like it, but now its probably the best part of my body. People think Harry Potter was cool cause he came onto the scene with a forehead scar, but the fact is that he's more than a decade too late. That's right, Potts, I've been sportin' this biz since before you even was born. And shall I so sport it, until I get an even bigger scar - a scar we all know as death.
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