Entry tags:
Of scarring
I realized yesterday that the mark on my knuckle (where I scraped it on the basement wall trying to do speed laundry in the few hours before I left for the Mystery Hunt in January) still hasn't gone away. If it hasn't healed in over four months, I think it's likely to stick around. I only have one scar already, and that's from grabbing a piece of popcorn covered in boiling oil when I was two.
So my only two scars, both on my right hand, are from popcorn and laundry.
Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.
So my only two scars, both on my right hand, are from popcorn and laundry.
Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.
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Man, this is a good icon.
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Did that chicken pox spot by your belly button go away? I was sure that one was gonna scar... it was BIG.
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Actually, I may have a barely-visible chin scar from an ice-skating incident in college, through which I learned that when you smash your chin open on ice, the numbing effect may make it hard to notice. It was called to my attention a few minutes later when another skater pointed out I was bleeding all over the place.
While I'm rambling, my brother severed his anterior cruciate ligament (the classic football injury) while playing guitar.
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How'd he manage that?
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I used to enjoy trying to play the violin in various positions. At one point, I was able to make recognizable music behind my back. Never did get the hang of holding the bow between my knees and moving the violin instead, though.
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