Assaulted

Okay, you know that I’m the kind of badass that makes Chuck Norris look like a japanese school girl skipping home after a tiring day at school drawing pikachu over and over again. But then there are things in this world that can make even me screw up my face in terror. Last week I came face to face with such a terror.

It was vicious. It was menacing. It was a finely tuned killing machine intent on my destruction. I came out of the encounter just barely alive enough to sing “I’ve got soul but I’m not a soldierrrrhhh” while stumbling away. Last week I met the spawn of the devil. The kind of thing that spends its free time outside primary schools, luring little kids in with toys and candy, then teaching them to listen to Justin Beiber. It was a terrible beast.

It was a mop.

Well a mop handle. And it had this plastic ring-thing on top that made it extra sharp.

See, this is what happened:

I race into the bathroom to shave. I’m in a hurry. I drop the shaving cream. I knock over the mop leaning against the wall trying to pick up the shaving cream.

I pick up the mop, throw it against the wall.

Slow motion.

I bend down to pick up the shaving cream again.

*cue dramatic violin music*

As I’m on my merry way down, I see the mop rebounding off the wall, and heading back towards me, out of the corner of my eye.

Have you ever tried stopping in the middle of an almost automated action like that? It’s impossible. Like getting a woman to be logical. It should be called the Logic chromosome, not the Y chromosome.

But back to our story.

To my slow-motion dismay I notice that my face is traveling on the perfect vector to intercept the mop handle.

*dramatic violin music reaches crescendo*

And it does. The mop handle, pivoting on its base, has rotated just so that its pointy top is right under my face, and my vertically traveling face impales itself on the handle. Right below the left eye. Ouch.

*cue clatter of pots, pans, galaxies and entire universes banging against each other*

Thankfully it just gave me a bruise under my eye for a day, which affected me only in that people on the bus kept staring at my face. Even hobos turned to look at me. I had forgotten to shave that day too, meaning I probably looked like a homeless rapist or something.

And now it’s just slight evidence of a cut under my eye. Most of it has gone the way of the dodo, or most twitter users’ sanity.

Update

I assume you have been wondering where I was all these weeks. No?

Fine. Be that way. See if I care you emotionless fiend! I have bee devastated by the crippling reality that I live in the worst parts of the sticks. Why, you ask? Because a few weeks ago, when my parents were away, someone snuck into the back yard and stole a- …wait, you pick. Below is a list of stuff in the back yard. What would you pick?

1. Two old washing machines.
2. Tons of computer display equipment.
3. Various tools.
4. Bananas.

So, any sane person who is not, or ever has been, a horde of barbarians, or say, a monkey, would pick something like the computer equipment right? Or at a stretch, the old washing machines. Apparently, around here the people still barter using elongated fruit, and steal bushels of it from people’s yards. Woe is me.

So anyway, all drama aside, I have been downloading Kung Fu movies. I think there are about five or six now, from Bruce Lee through Jet Li. My mind has been taken over by little chinese men fighting with chopsticks.

Movies with characters doing that are bound to be fascinating.

In other news, I started and abruptly stopped taking part in #project365, a nice little personal project where you post one picture a day for, get this, 365 days. Pseudorandom has been studiously updating her feed over at her flickr set. My participation in this lasted all of 8 hours or so, with me posting a picture one day, then not having anything to show for the next two, now three days. I guess you need a camera to take pictures after all.

Actually, my phone would have done fine for this if I had been taking pictures in the daytime. Since in Sri Lanka, you can’t take pictures with your phone in public without being given creepy looks and possibly being shot at, my only options at the moment are images at night, at home. That means some nice low-light shots and macros. Since my phone handles these as well as a leper handling perfect skin, I shall leave this project for another day, when I actually get myself a proper camera.

But on the bright side, I have gotten into uploading straight to picasa. Till I do find myself holding at least a compact, all that shall adorn these albums is the odd weekend out or rare day when I actually take a picture in the daytime. With my phone. Without being stoned.