hey, fellas, have you heard the news?
No more goddamn shortcuts.
See, I decided to cut across a campus parking lot on my way back from work today. Our campus parking lots feature those bars that rise up when a car approaches and drop when the car passes, mainly so they can splinter impressively in action movies.
Well, a car was going under one of the bars, and I was walking past, grooving to Zeppelin and hoping to get home before the rain started.
The bar came down on my head.
I assume that the fraternity cookout happening across the street got a kick out of it, but my high-volume attempt to construct a sentence using only various forms of the word "fuck" prevented me from noticing.
I just...I don't even know. It hurt like hell, and actually sort of brought tears to my eyes, but I wound up just rubbing my ear and cracking the fuck up, because--what else was there to do?
So I am sitting in the apartment holding ice to my head and hoping I do not become a cautionary tale a la Natasha Richardson. If I do, y'all do me a favor and nominate me for a Darwin Award. Because seriously--who does shit like this?
EDIT: I went to the health center. Dr. Hot-and-Sadly-Married says that I will live. The nurse and I discussed the fact that Liam Neeson is hot, even though that is a) kinda disrespectful considering his recently deceased wife, and b) really weird because the nurse was old enough to be my grandmother. ;) Then the student receptionist and I got to have a Firefly squee, because I was wearing my Browncoat shirt. Uh. One of my Browncoat shirts... :D