Nasty spots won't leave me alone, despite my best attempts at attacking them with overpriced, ineffective, perfumed goo, and now I have a 2 inch gash on the top of my head due to walking into the underside of a stone staircase at work. The staircase was painted the same colour as Man Utd's 3rd choice strip from a few years ago (grey), which at the time Sir Alex attributed their losing of the game to, because apparently none of the players could see each other. This was laughed-off by most at the time, but maybe he had a point? This is the only reason I can come up with as to why I would walk with great vitesse into something way way harder than me. And why could this not have happened before I had to endure Tony Hadley's incessant warbling of, amongst other things, a Queen medley that seemed to go on for several days, before pulling out all the stops for a rousing finale of 'Santa Claus is coming to town' (yes, really.).
I hate Tony Hadley and Spandau Ballet now more than ever, because in the past I have only associated their music with metaphorical headaches.
I am ok though, in case you were concerned. The paramedics referred to the gash as 'a scratch' (since when do scratches bleed for 20 minutes?), though I do have an attractive red patch of blood-dyed hair on top of my head. I'm like an emo, only with real pain.
I sometimes put my increasingly stupid-looking face down to me getting older, yet tonight when I was asked my age (to relay to the 999 person on the phone), everyone was really surprised, saying they thought i was only about 21!
I guess sometimes a stupid-looking face is just a stupid-looking face after all.
1 comment:
Yipes! Looks kinda sore. :-/
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