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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Funny queer, not funny haha (actually, #2 is kinda funny, I guess...)<br><br><br>
1. I have a large bump on my left shin that fills with fluid when I put pressure on the ball of my foot. It's the result of a childhood mishap. I was running through a field at dusk and slammed into the pointy end of a metal stake in the ground. After rolling around on the ground I pulled my pant leg up and found a large lump. It never went away. Two docs have looked at it, poked it, prodded it, even scanned it, and I still don't know what it is or what the fluid is. But no one seems worried about it.<br><br>
2. I have a tattoo on my left forearm from 8th grade. Some kid (don't remember who) stabbed my arm with a blue ballpoint pen (don't remember why). I've had a small blue dot there ever since.<br><br>
3. I have stretch marks between my biceps and my pectorals. They're the result of two separate phases in my life when I "got into" weightlifting and built muscle faster than I could grow skin.<br><br><br>
Just thought you all should know.
 

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I have what I think will be a perma bump on my right shin from a fall I took this last December.
 

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At the age of 37, I still have a scar on the top of my left hand from where I took the "Sissy Test" in elementary school. For those not familiar with this test, let me explain:<br><br>
You and a friend both take a pencil, place the eraser on the hand, and start "erasing" back and forth. The one that quits first is the sissy. Yes, I DID win! Yes, yes, yes!!! I now have a permanent reminder of what stupid lengths guys will go to just to prove how studly we are.<br><br>
For those of you wondering, no my mother was not impressed. I tried to play it off that I "bumped" my hand, but she wasn't having it. If I remember correctly, she was quite mad and grounded me for a week.
 

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In the darkness of the night, amid passion and lust, the fine ladies in lace call me King Kong Donkey Boy for reaching new heights, spanning distant girth, and the ability to endure long away the night befell.<br><br>
Nothing unusual besides that.
 

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We used to play Chicken Scratch. Chicken Scratch 200, or Chicken Scratch 500, or even Chicken Scratch 1000. You call an enemy out by challenging them to a game of Chicken Scratch. The game starts by each boy taking their finger nail and scratching the top of your hand in the same spot until the other gives, blood spurts, or the teachers find out you stupid kids are playing that game again. I was always a chicken. I never won that game, and because I never won, I have a total of zero scars leftover.
 

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I have a scar on my index finger of my left hand from where I "tried" to cut my own finger off in 7th grade.<br><br>
Sis said, "oooo, you're gonna get in trouble. You bled on the floor." :S<br><br>
Mom almost passed out when she saw it.<br>
Dad just took me to get stitches.<br><br>
3 measly stitches later....and a splint on my finger.....no writing in school for a week!!!<br>
I made out pretty well.
 

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King Kong Donkey Boy Dot Com. Check it out!<br><br>
Aside from that, I did find another...<br><br>
Due to an accident back in the year 2001, I have very little feeling below the knee in my left leg. I have feeling on the inside, but most of the outside is all numb to the touch. Also, from the same accident, I don't have full range of motion of my left foot. I had what is called drop foot and have since gotten back 90% of what I lost but still suffer the 10% at times when I'm twisting by virtue of stepping on something, such as a rock or large branch, where my foot gets turned inward, and I have no control to pull it back out to catch my fall. Although I no longer notice in daily comings and going, I do notice at time of extreme fatigue. In Ironman Couer d'Alene, my body and legs were so tired that I kept kicking the ground with my left foot because my body was too tired to pull it back up, so it hung, and scraped the ground when I didn't lift my knee high enough. LRR may remember, but when we first started running together, with me then only a year back into running, I'd kick the ground all the time.
 

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Discussion Starter · #10 ·
Sometimes it deserves it.<br><br>
Reminds me of my favorite Deep Thought by Jack Handy:<br><i><span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica;">If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.</span></i>
 

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Back when i was a young weightlifter i had a size 52 inch chest. Then i was in a vehicle accident and was stuck in the windshield and it moved my chest down to my stomach . So that is why my stomach is bigger than my chest. Don't believe me just look at my avatar<img alt="smile.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/smile.gif">
 

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I apparently have 'ridiculously flexible' feet. When I was at the podiatrist getting fitted for my orthotics, the dr. was shocked at what he could do with my feet. He made a couple of jokes about me probably being one of those kids that could bend my thumb to my wrist and other crazy things...I didn't think that was so unusual <img alt="uhoh2.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/uhoh2.gif"><br><br>
Turns out flexible feet are not good for running <img alt="sad.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/sad.gif">
 

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I can still do that on my right only though <img alt="smile.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/smile.gif">
 

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When I was about 10 and lived in CT, during the winter we would play hockey all day Saturday on a pond about 2 miles from our house. One day, my dad was running late getting us there and rushed us out of the house – apparently he wanted to get there while the was still plenty of beer for the dads to drink. He hurried us up so badly that I didn’t even have time to grab my gloves.<br><br>
“Dad, I don’t have my gloves.”<br><i>“Get in the car.”</i><br>
“But I don’t have my gloves.”<br><i>“Hurry up, get in the car.”</i><br>
“Can I get my gloves?”<br><i>“No, just get in the car.”</i><br><br>
When we got to the pond, no one was there yet.<br><br>
“Can we go back home for my gloves, Dad?”<br><i>“No, everyone will be here soon.”</i><br>
“I can’t play,” I said and went to sit in the car.<br><i>“Where are you going?”</i><br>
“I’m not playing. I don’t have my gloves.”<br><i>“Why not? Did you forget them?”</i><br>
“No,” I said and explained that he rushed us out so quickly I didn’t get to take them, and that he was mean because he wouldn’t go back for them.<br><i>“You’re lying. You just forgot them, stupid. Now get on the ice.”</i><br><br>
It didn’t take long before my fingers were frozen to my stick.<br><br>
After a couple of Black Labels, Dad started asking if my fingers hurt. Actually, he would whack them with his stick and ask “Did you feel that?” laugh and skate away.<br><br>
Finally, I had enough. I tripped my Dad, gave him a smack on the ear with my stick, threw it down and spent the rest of the afternoon on the bench with my hands in my pocket trying to warm them back up.<br><br>
When we finally got home they were classically frostbitten.<br><br><i>Frostbite is distinguishable by the hard, pale, and cold quality of the skin that has been exposed to the cold for a length of time. The area is likely to lack sensitivity to touch, although there may be an aching pain. As the area thaws, the flesh becomes red and very painful.</i><br><br>
And yes, as they thawed they became very painful. Enough to bring tears.<br><br>
As <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/17/health/nutrition/17BEST.html?ref=health" target="_blank">a recent NY Times article</a> says, the area “would be sensitive to the cold for the rest of [my] life.” To this day, I have to wear gloves if the temperature is below 45º or just about the temperature that you can see your breath. D'Wife knows the whole story – including the abusive part – but D'Kid hadn’t heard it. When I came in from hanging the Xmas lights, my fingers [my middle two fingers on my right hand; index and middle on my left] had the pale, cold, whiteness, they get when they get even a little too cold – they even get like that when I’m making hamburgers or meatballs if the ground beef hasn’t been completely thawed. It freaked D'K out a little, but she was sensitive to it.<br><br>
When we rode our bikes this past Sunday afternoon – it was cold and windy – she asked “Dad, did you get frostbite today?” when we came in and I made her hot chocolate.<br><br>
“Not today, honey, I did have my gloves,” I replied, “but thanks for asking.”<br><br>
I gave her a hug and opened a beer. It made my ice-cream headache go away.
 

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On a lighter note: I have a scar on my right hand I got in Catholic school. When I didn't stop drawing on the desktop, after being told twice already, Sr. Elizabeth cracked me on the fingers with her ruler. The ruler shattered, but the metal straightedge remained imbedded in my finger.
 

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Discussion Starter · #18 ·
Yeah, <i>much</i> lighter note...<img alt="uhoh2.gif" src="http://files.kickrunners.com/smilies/uhoh2.gif">
 

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D'Wife calls me CementHead.<br><br>
1) We were in a car accident a few years ago. I wasn't wearing my seatbelt, no airbags and my head went forward into the dashboard - and broke it. I put a dent in the vinyl that was a perfect casting of my forehead, brow-line and the bridge of my nose.<br><br>
2) She left the cupboard open once while I was getting something out of the dishwasher. I stood up and banged my noggin on the open door - tearing it off the hinges.
 

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Way back when, I was gardening and kneeled on a piece of beer bottle. It went through my jeans and a little piece got lodged in my shin. I tried to dig it out, but couldn't get it. I went to the doctor, but she could't get it either. So, we left it. Eventually, it did encapselate. Stupid stuff, like bumping into the toilet, woudl rupture the capsule and jam the glass into the bone and hurt like all get out. When I started running three years ago, I couldn't because the jarring would cause the glass to rub. So, I went to a surgeon to have it removed.<br><br>
Nurse "How long has that been in there?"<br>
Me "20 years".<br>
Nurse "And now you want it removed???"<br>
Doctor "Where's the glass?"<br>
Me "Right here"<br>
Doctor "But I don't see it"<br>
Me "Trust me--cut here and you'll find it"<br>
Doctor "Okay........"<br><br>
So doctor cuts and hits the glass<br>
Doctor "THAT didn't sound right!!!"<br>
Me "You hit the glass"<br>
Doctor "Hmmm... you did have a piece of brown beer bottle in there"
 
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