I'm totally hitting a wall right now with this blog. There are tons of things going on but I have absolutely no desire to write them down. Basically I suck at life.
So I'm pushing past the pain long-distance runner style.
I've had some amazing opportunities with my job in the last few months, those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook know and, I'm sure, are justifiably jealous.
Well yesterday was the be-all, end-all of epic work perks. I got to attend a luncheon for the Center for the Prevention of Abuse. It's a wonderful non-profit focused on helping those abused or raped move on and get away from their abuser.
It's a cause that is very close to my heart, something I wish I could be more involved in and maybe someday I will be.
Anyway, the key note speaker was Vice President Joe Biden. Those of you who know me IRL know that I'm a staunch Libertarian, I'm for individual freedom and not much else. I did, however, vote Obama in the last election. As a Libertarian who voted Obama I'm required by law to dislike about half of the things he and Biden have done while in office. As I'm not one for political debates I'll leave it at that.
However, Biden's speech was amazing, inspiring, and made me really like him. Honestly, the inappropriate things he's done in office (this is a BIG FUCKING DEAL) made me predisposed to like him immensely anyway. He also managed to say SOB and badass.
Someone has a new political crush!
Here's part of Biden's speech.
Anyway, this post is part PSA and part bragging about how awesome my life is.
The PSA part is the link. Domestic abuse and rape are the only crimes where the victim is put on trial. It's heartbreaking to know that not only are the victims put on trial, but the trial itself comes down to he said; she said. It's hard to convict, and therefore seems almost pointless to report. I don't know how to fix it, besides education, public understanding and awareness.
I'm really just in awe of how passionate Biden seems to be on this issue and am grateful that he didn't use this as a platform to talk about anything but the topic at hand.
Thanks for doing it right Vice President.
Showing posts with label foul language. Show all posts
Showing posts with label foul language. Show all posts
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Things I've Forgotten
My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"
I don't know.
I'm not sure where this entry is going.
I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.
I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.
I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.
I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.
I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.
There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.
I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.
The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.
The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.
It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.
I don't know.
I'm not sure where this entry is going.
I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.
I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.
I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.
I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.
I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.
There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.
I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.
The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.
The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.
It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Family Christmas Parties
Let's discuss Family Christmas first.
If you have a small family, a Family Christmas (yes both words MUST be capitalized) may not terrify you the way it does me. If you are one of the lucky few with 10 or less people in your family in three generations . . . well, I hate you, I guess.
For the rest of us here's what we have to look forward to:
- As many as 4 or 5 Family Christmas
- Travel on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day
- Fights
- Double booking parties
- Fights about double bookings
- Awkward gift exchanges
- Sharing
- Aunts who smell and want hugs
- Lipstick prints from aforementioned aunts
- Offensive jokes from uncles
- Cousins you hate
- Fights
- Christmas Mass with the entire family
Here are the unspoken rules for the many family gatherings you'll have during Christmas:
1. DO NOT under any circumstances mention any of the following:
your uncle's recent trip to the Betty, your great aunts funeral and who did and did not show up your younger cousin's possible mental illness and/or serial killer in-the-making tendencies
the recent release of your grandfather from prison and the "new friends" he made while there the current living arrangements for half of your family the money that your older brother owes you from that drug deal that went south on him two years ago your mother's latest and greatest nervous breakdown
2. DO NOT comment on a new photo, painting, statuary unless you are prepared to listen to a story that goes on for 30 minutes and provides nothing of value or interest.
3. Just give in and play Carrom, Super Smash Bros, Slap Jack, or Catch Phrase with your younger cousins. You know you'll have to at some point, just remember to protect your knuckles in Carrom, shield your face if you win at Smash, wear gloves during Slap Jack, and keep it clean in Catch Phrase
4. Have some pie, even if you don't like it, you have to have at least one piece unless you want your Great Aunt Mona to cry, do you want her to cry, why do you hate her pie, WHY DO YOU HATE HER?????
5. Fall asleep early and often on the nearest couch. Yes people will make jokes about it the rest of the year, however, you get out of talking to people, cleaning up, don't have to give up your seat, AND you get rest and relaxation. If you find you can't fall asleep surrounded by 30 people, just pretend, start writing your next novel in your head or something. Get creative.
6. If you are relegated to the cold floor out of respect or fear of your elders make sure your placement is no where near someone over the age of 60. This is not ageism, it is merely self-preservation. These people have just finished a very large, very gaseous meal, they are old, they aren't able to hold in their emissions, even if they could they wouldn't. They're old, they'll do what they want. Stay up wind.
7. Enjoy the kiddie table. Yes you're sitting in the coldest room in the house, at the smallest table, in the worst chairs, with the messiest eaters, so what. Treasure this time, because if you ever do move up to the adult table you'll just have awkward conversations, be forced to look at pictures of children and grandchildren who "couldn't make it but wished they were here", and pretending you can't smell the caster oil and hemorrhoid creme seeping from the red hat lady sitting beside you.
8. Be vicious during the gift exchange. It's called Rob Your Neighbor for a a reason. Don't be afraid to do it, it's the only revenge you're allowed to take for the trauma you're enduring. Take that silly putty from the 7 year old, steal that antique ironing board from your newly married and moved cousin, but stay away from anything in a bag if you pick from the pile, wrapping paper is your only smart choice. Unless it feels like books, the books are ALWAYS bad.
9. If you're already the favorite of a certain relative make sure to hang out as much as possible with that person. It never hurts to reinforce how awesome you are. Sure it may not result in any physical gain, but you can lord it over all the other family members your age. If you aren't anyone's favorite find the meanest most senile one and take turns tossing zingers at each other. It's fun for you and them, plus if you say something too mean they'll forget later.
10. Finally, enjoy everything about it. Sure, you're family isn't all sunshine and roses, but no one's is. This family is yours though and that makes it better. If you get frustrated, bored, insulted, or hurt just take a step back and look at it from an outsiders perspective. It's fucking funny, don't even pretend it isn't.
Ahh Family.
If you have a small family, a Family Christmas (yes both words MUST be capitalized) may not terrify you the way it does me. If you are one of the lucky few with 10 or less people in your family in three generations . . . well, I hate you, I guess.
For the rest of us here's what we have to look forward to:
- As many as 4 or 5 Family Christmas
- Travel on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day
- Fights
- Double booking parties
- Fights about double bookings
- Awkward gift exchanges
- Sharing
- Aunts who smell and want hugs
- Lipstick prints from aforementioned aunts
- Offensive jokes from uncles
- Cousins you hate
- Fights
- Christmas Mass with the entire family
Here are the unspoken rules for the many family gatherings you'll have during Christmas:
1. DO NOT under any circumstances mention any of the following:
2. DO NOT comment on a new photo, painting, statuary unless you are prepared to listen to a story that goes on for 30 minutes and provides nothing of value or interest.
3. Just give in and play Carrom, Super Smash Bros, Slap Jack, or Catch Phrase with your younger cousins. You know you'll have to at some point, just remember to protect your knuckles in Carrom, shield your face if you win at Smash, wear gloves during Slap Jack, and keep it clean in Catch Phrase
4. Have some pie, even if you don't like it, you have to have at least one piece unless you want your Great Aunt Mona to cry, do you want her to cry, why do you hate her pie, WHY DO YOU HATE HER?????
5. Fall asleep early and often on the nearest couch. Yes people will make jokes about it the rest of the year, however, you get out of talking to people, cleaning up, don't have to give up your seat, AND you get rest and relaxation. If you find you can't fall asleep surrounded by 30 people, just pretend, start writing your next novel in your head or something. Get creative.
6. If you are relegated to the cold floor out of respect or fear of your elders make sure your placement is no where near someone over the age of 60. This is not ageism, it is merely self-preservation. These people have just finished a very large, very gaseous meal, they are old, they aren't able to hold in their emissions, even if they could they wouldn't. They're old, they'll do what they want. Stay up wind.
7. Enjoy the kiddie table. Yes you're sitting in the coldest room in the house, at the smallest table, in the worst chairs, with the messiest eaters, so what. Treasure this time, because if you ever do move up to the adult table you'll just have awkward conversations, be forced to look at pictures of children and grandchildren who "couldn't make it but wished they were here", and pretending you can't smell the caster oil and hemorrhoid creme seeping from the red hat lady sitting beside you.
8. Be vicious during the gift exchange. It's called Rob Your Neighbor for a a reason. Don't be afraid to do it, it's the only revenge you're allowed to take for the trauma you're enduring. Take that silly putty from the 7 year old, steal that antique ironing board from your newly married and moved cousin, but stay away from anything in a bag if you pick from the pile, wrapping paper is your only smart choice. Unless it feels like books, the books are ALWAYS bad.
9. If you're already the favorite of a certain relative make sure to hang out as much as possible with that person. It never hurts to reinforce how awesome you are. Sure it may not result in any physical gain, but you can lord it over all the other family members your age. If you aren't anyone's favorite find the meanest most senile one and take turns tossing zingers at each other. It's fun for you and them, plus if you say something too mean they'll forget later.
10. Finally, enjoy everything about it. Sure, you're family isn't all sunshine and roses, but no one's is. This family is yours though and that makes it better. If you get frustrated, bored, insulted, or hurt just take a step back and look at it from an outsiders perspective. It's fucking funny, don't even pretend it isn't.
Ahh Family.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The Oil Change Saga Continues
I'm taking a trip after Christmas. It's going to be a long one; the first long one I've taken in my beautiful new car. I want it to be in the best possible condition for taking said trip, it's like an athlete you know, you've got to make sure it's warmed up, trained, full of fluids, and . . . vacuumed out?
Anyway, that means a trip to the local Speed Lube and a visit with my least favorite and most inappropriate mechanic.
He was there, as he always is. They opened the back doors and waved me in. As soon as I stepped out of the car he told me to turn around, get back into it and go home - they were closed. I smiled uncertainly and hesitantly re-opened my car door. He rolled his eyes, murmured something I couldn't hear and flipped up my hood. I head inside to the waiting room only to find the heat off and the plastic lawn chairs that normally adorn the room MIA. I head back into the garage where the warm air pours down from the ceiling.
I have been effectively trapped into watching my car get her oil changed and chatting with HIM while it happens. I pull out my iPhone and pretend to be very busy and important. He snidely comments that iPhones are "fucking pieces of junk, but you must collect junk since you're driving a Pontiac."
I look justifiably horrified and am unsure what I'm supposed to say in reply. Not only am I unhealthfully obsessed with my phone, but I'm also in a special kind of love with my beautiful 2008 Pontiac Vibe (we're coming up on our year anniversary in January!!!!).
I point out that this car has rave reviews from Consumer Reports, was manufactured on the Toyota assembly line, and has been nothing but fabulous since the day I got it.
He goes off on a tangent about foreign cars.
I try to change to conversation back to something I'm more comfortable talking about, Scarlett Johannson. I know from previous experience that he's a fan and I'm more willing to talk about the "screwability" of a starlet than about how my taste in cars and electronics bites the big one.
This conversation somehow morphs into a diatribe from him about how he IS NOT attracted to any males and is as NON-GAY as you can get. In fact, he isn't even attracted to himself. He doesn't think he's good looking at all and would never "do" himself.
I go back to talking about cars.
How is this dude the manager? I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt and assume that most of what he was saying was supposed to be a joke, but even as one long joke it's a horrifying way to communicate.
I may end up making these bi-monthly visits into bi-monthly blogs as well. I had intended on never going back to this particular place, but it's a gold mine of awkwardness.
Anyway, that means a trip to the local Speed Lube and a visit with my least favorite and most inappropriate mechanic.
He was there, as he always is. They opened the back doors and waved me in. As soon as I stepped out of the car he told me to turn around, get back into it and go home - they were closed. I smiled uncertainly and hesitantly re-opened my car door. He rolled his eyes, murmured something I couldn't hear and flipped up my hood. I head inside to the waiting room only to find the heat off and the plastic lawn chairs that normally adorn the room MIA. I head back into the garage where the warm air pours down from the ceiling.
I have been effectively trapped into watching my car get her oil changed and chatting with HIM while it happens. I pull out my iPhone and pretend to be very busy and important. He snidely comments that iPhones are "fucking pieces of junk, but you must collect junk since you're driving a Pontiac."
I look justifiably horrified and am unsure what I'm supposed to say in reply. Not only am I unhealthfully obsessed with my phone, but I'm also in a special kind of love with my beautiful 2008 Pontiac Vibe (we're coming up on our year anniversary in January!!!!).
I point out that this car has rave reviews from Consumer Reports, was manufactured on the Toyota assembly line, and has been nothing but fabulous since the day I got it.
He goes off on a tangent about foreign cars.
I try to change to conversation back to something I'm more comfortable talking about, Scarlett Johannson. I know from previous experience that he's a fan and I'm more willing to talk about the "screwability" of a starlet than about how my taste in cars and electronics bites the big one.
This conversation somehow morphs into a diatribe from him about how he IS NOT attracted to any males and is as NON-GAY as you can get. In fact, he isn't even attracted to himself. He doesn't think he's good looking at all and would never "do" himself.
I go back to talking about cars.
How is this dude the manager? I'll give the guy the benefit of the doubt and assume that most of what he was saying was supposed to be a joke, but even as one long joke it's a horrifying way to communicate.
I may end up making these bi-monthly visits into bi-monthly blogs as well. I had intended on never going back to this particular place, but it's a gold mine of awkwardness.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
It's Fucking October!!!!!!!!!!
Finally! Finally! Finally! I have a deep and abiding love for October, the weather, the cider, the leaves changing, but mostly it's Halloween bitches!
I love Halloween. I have no way to form coherent sentences about how fantastic, amazing, and fabby I think it is.
As I told a group of friends recently:
Halloween is by far the most fun holiday, you get to put horrible, repulsive things out all over your yard and your house, talk about severed body parts and blood without being judged, watch terrible movies, get sick on candy, AND dress like a dirty pirate hooker.
I get most excited about pumpkin carving. I'm slightly obsessed with it. I've done it every year since I've been on my own. Mom was never a big one for the mess it caused so we always just drew faces on pumpkins instead (which totally sucked 'cause I can't draw a straight line to save my life).
The first couple of years were rough, I didn't do very detailed work and usually ended up cutting my pumpkin to shreds. I've gotten MUCH better since I moved into my own house and bought a lot of practice pumpkins.
I'll probably update later with pictures of previous years because I'm way too proud of them.
Happy October everyone!
I love Halloween. I have no way to form coherent sentences about how fantastic, amazing, and fabby I think it is.
As I told a group of friends recently:
Halloween is by far the most fun holiday, you get to put horrible, repulsive things out all over your yard and your house, talk about severed body parts and blood without being judged, watch terrible movies, get sick on candy, AND dress like a dirty pirate hooker.
I get most excited about pumpkin carving. I'm slightly obsessed with it. I've done it every year since I've been on my own. Mom was never a big one for the mess it caused so we always just drew faces on pumpkins instead (which totally sucked 'cause I can't draw a straight line to save my life).
The first couple of years were rough, I didn't do very detailed work and usually ended up cutting my pumpkin to shreds. I've gotten MUCH better since I moved into my own house and bought a lot of practice pumpkins.
I'll probably update later with pictures of previous years because I'm way too proud of them.
Happy October everyone!
Monday, August 3, 2009
The End of an Era?
I went to a wedding over the weekend and it was just wonderful. As a general rule I'm not a fan of other people's weddings. I usually find them boring and pointless. The only exception to this rule is close family.
With close family I have no problem acting like a moron out on the dance floor, am usually very familiar with the venue because I've spent the entire day setting up, I've got tons of people I can talk to, and I can get the bride and groom whatever gift I want because I'm family god-damn it and I don't have to look at their registry if I don't want to.
This one was good, besides all of the aforementioned perks my cousin's band played and my cousin-in-laws father was the DJ. I also learned the Cupid Shuffle, got alcohol spit on me on the dance floor, colored a Strawberry Shortcake picture, kept the fondue table going, and had some of my aunts famous pickles (they were delicious as usual).
I got some other amazing wedding news yesterday. A very close, very good friend of mine from college is getting married on Friday. It's very small, very quiet, and at the courthouse. She doesn't want any presents, any cards, or any hoopla. She's honestly the last girl I expected to get married, just because she's always said that she wouldn't.
I'm glad that she's getting married the way that she is. I figured she and her SO would marry at some point and if they did I figured it would be very small and quiet. I also have to admit that I wondered from time to time if they weren't married already and just not telling anyone. It just makes sense from a financial and health coverage perspective.
So yay for them as well! There are weddings everywhere. That means only 1 college girlfriend, 3 high school girlfriends, and no family members (for the next few years at least), left unmarried.
They're closing ranks people. Fight the power! Or give in . . . you know, whichever you prefer.
With close family I have no problem acting like a moron out on the dance floor, am usually very familiar with the venue because I've spent the entire day setting up, I've got tons of people I can talk to, and I can get the bride and groom whatever gift I want because I'm family god-damn it and I don't have to look at their registry if I don't want to.
This one was good, besides all of the aforementioned perks my cousin's band played and my cousin-in-laws father was the DJ. I also learned the Cupid Shuffle, got alcohol spit on me on the dance floor, colored a Strawberry Shortcake picture, kept the fondue table going, and had some of my aunts famous pickles (they were delicious as usual).
I got some other amazing wedding news yesterday. A very close, very good friend of mine from college is getting married on Friday. It's very small, very quiet, and at the courthouse. She doesn't want any presents, any cards, or any hoopla. She's honestly the last girl I expected to get married, just because she's always said that she wouldn't.
I'm glad that she's getting married the way that she is. I figured she and her SO would marry at some point and if they did I figured it would be very small and quiet. I also have to admit that I wondered from time to time if they weren't married already and just not telling anyone. It just makes sense from a financial and health coverage perspective.
So yay for them as well! There are weddings everywhere. That means only 1 college girlfriend, 3 high school girlfriends, and no family members (for the next few years at least), left unmarried.
They're closing ranks people. Fight the power! Or give in . . . you know, whichever you prefer.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Ouch *%$#$@* ! *&$%@#$!%(*
I'm accident prone. I fall ALL the time, seriously, at least once a week. I'll slip on the bathroom or kitchen floor, trip over the dog, cat, coffee table, rogue shoe, wear slick soled shoes in my garage, the parking deck, walking the dog. Sometimes I don't even have an excuse, I just collapse in a heap.
I also bruise easily and consistently, I currently have 13 bruises. I only know where about 6 of them came from.
I get scratched a lot too. Between the cats, random nails in my wall, paper cuts, and knife wounds its a wonder I haven't bled to death.
My favorite curse during 95.5% of these injuries: mothertrucker. I usually string as many curse words together as my brain can think of and come up with some very surprising and innovative word choices. I then try to use them in day to day life.
Look at me, taking lemons and turning them into f#$%ing lemonade!
I also bruise easily and consistently, I currently have 13 bruises. I only know where about 6 of them came from.
I get scratched a lot too. Between the cats, random nails in my wall, paper cuts, and knife wounds its a wonder I haven't bled to death.
My favorite curse during 95.5% of these injuries: mothertrucker. I usually string as many curse words together as my brain can think of and come up with some very surprising and innovative word choices. I then try to use them in day to day life.
Look at me, taking lemons and turning them into f#$%ing lemonade!
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