Just a Minor Surgery
When I was 12 my dad sent me to pick up photos at the local pharmacy, which I resentfully acquiesed to as I hopped on my bike and grumbled off. And then it went black, but here's what they tell me:
A car hit me. My pre-pubescent body crashed into the driver's windshield, then tumbled over the hood and onto the street. Lucky not to have my head sliced clean off, the doctors told me. Spend a day and a night in the hospital nursing a consussion sharing the room with a collicky baby that cried so much you wanted it to burst in flames and turn to coal dust.
Glass from the windshield kept working its way out of my head, ears, and back for months afterward, except one piece on my back. After 18 years it had enough scar tissue around it to be clearly visible underneath Robocop's body armor, so I made the arrangements to have it taken out today, with dreams of showing my future progeny "Grandpa's glass." Alas, it was not to be.
For the video report, click here.
Plus: VLOGGERCON starts tomorrow! Video Technonerds Unite! Thanks to Schlomo for the tickets! Expect daily reports!
posted by Peter at 6:08 PM
2 Comments:
Just one tiny question for ya:
If you plan on showing your GRANDchildren "grandpa's glass"...doesn't that sort of imply that you'll have to have them? 'Cause there's that whole 20-30 year period inbetween where you have to raise their parents. Hmmmm
I'll never say never, but probably never. I meant my brother's grandchildren. I'll be "Uncle Glass."
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