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.


12 Responses to “Assaulted”

  1. August 20, 2010 at 10:55 am

    No worries there… You’ve always looked like a homeless rapist. Except when you wear your red Levi’s shirt; then you look like Stimpy.

  2. 2 Jack Point
    August 20, 2010 at 11:33 am

    Oh yes, assault by kitchen equipment. It has the same level of danger as stepping on a rake, I think.

  3. August 20, 2010 at 11:46 am

    which part of a mop is pointed enough to cut or even bruise? or are you made of butter?

  4. August 20, 2010 at 12:19 pm

    ha ha? Usually it’s a plastic thing that you use to hang the mop thats on the top, yeah? Did it make such a bad bruise?


  5. August 20, 2010 at 2:05 pm

    I said it before and I’ll say it again… “The Gender Wars: Revenge of the Domestic Appliances”


  6. August 20, 2010 at 4:13 pm

    Mop 1 , Jerry 0

  7. August 20, 2010 at 6:22 pm

    What Thilina said!

    And said black eye was EPIC, for all who wanted to know.

  8. August 20, 2010 at 6:31 pm

    I fought the mop and the mop won! πŸ˜€

  9. August 20, 2010 at 9:18 pm

    I’m adding a ‘:p’ because it seems a bit mean otherwise.

    So I’m saying it again.

    Wuss πŸ˜›

  10. August 21, 2010 at 7:30 pm

    but at least the scar will give you a rugged..and you know…tough look..:)))

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