(no subject)
So all of these finger stories made me want to contribute.
Waaaaaay back in my freshman year of high school (okay, not way back, but a good ten years ago), I was in a cooking class. This class was hosted by a teacher named Mrs. D. (we actually did call her that). Now she had to deal with my brother, who was the typical hellraiser (think black makeup, nail polish, pentagram wearing teen who just took an easy class to get a grade), my sister, who was a normal girl...just slightly on the annoying teen side, and me...who was the same: Normal, but a teenager. (Mrs D. basically took care of the home ec department, doing parenting classes, cooking classes, etc)
Least to say, when I finally came in, she took one look at my name and said "...Seymour...you are not by chance related to Katie and Rob?" (Seymour being the phonetic way to spell my last name). I smiled, and she just gave me the death look that basically said "Why me?!?!"
I wasn't too bad (minus one of the female classmates trying to destroy a pretty picture I drew on the chalkboard before class, ignoring my pleas to stop, so I scratched her like a cat. I got in trouble of course because of her bullying, but I digress)
My favorite with Mrs D. was the time I cut my pinkie open, though. I'm actually shocked that after this incident she did not come up to me and say "Are you the youngest? Because I swear if I have to deal with another Seymour child I am going to kill myself" So anyways, we stored all of our recipes in these little cubby boxes that were in a cabinet. This cabinet had the workings of handles, but no physical handles. (If you look at your door knob, just imagine it without the part you pull, but your door still had the part where the pull handle can fit into). We opened up the doors by just sticking our fingers into the hole where the knobs used to be and pulled.
Well my friend called me one day, right as I was pulling open the cabinet, and I turned to face her. As I turned, my hand turned in the hole...and the pinkie that was in the hole went SLICE! I froze, and stared at my hand. I pulled it away to find no blood. Horray!! Went to Mrs D and said "Hey...I just cut my finger open." as I started wrapping it up in paper towels just in case. She paled magnificently and asked me if I needed to go to the nurse. I shrugged and started saying "Nah, it's not blee...wait...okay, yeah. Yeah I do." It was one of those wounds that doesn't start bleeding until a few seconds until after it happens. My body loves doing that. It was BLEEDING wonderfully. She paled even more and stuttered, asking if I needed someone to take me down to the nurse. (she wasn't paling because of the blood, but because of the havoc the Seymour children have caused her...^.^)
I declined a guide to the nurse, thinking it wasn't so bad. My mom, when she heard about that, freaked out. Not at me, but at Mrs D. not forcing me to go with someone to make sure I was okay. So anyways, I started going to the nurse. As I got to the stairs, I started feeling a bit dizzy and lightheaded. Thinking to myself "shit I need to make it down there before I pass out" I ran down the stairs (not such a bright idea...). By the bottom of the stairs I was seeing stars. I ran into the nurses office and basically screamed "I cut my finger open, and I am about to pass out from shock!!" The girl immediately jumped up and forced me onto a little cot so I didn't die.
Of course, with my luck, I got the sub-in while the actual nurse was out for lunch or some stupid shit. I don't know. I was focused on my BLEEDING finger. Said sub-in couldn't actually legally do anything accept advise me and she really wanted me to go to the hospital. Called up my mother saying this. Mom was crabby, didn't want to go to the hospital and just wanted me to finish my day (thanks mom) thinking that my wound wasn't terrible. Mom's excuse was she didn't have a car to get me from point A to B. Finally after begging and pleading from Sub In Nurse my mom borrowed our neighbors car, conned my uncle to leave work early and meet us at our house to take me to the hospital. Mom picked me up, grumbling how my pinkie looked fine and that I should have just finished the day. When we got home, she actually decided to poke the wound, which at that point stopped bleeding. Well...it stopped until she poked it, then it started its massive bleeding attack again. She finally decided it was worthy for me to go to the hospital. Uncle arrived, dropped us off at our local hospital (one of eighty gazillion)
Check in and...wait. And wait...and wait. My mom poked me at 4 and said "see, this could have happened after school!" as a little joke. Finally they took me, and I got two and half stitches (half stitch because they went through the same hole at some point). Bandaged me up and sent me on my way. And yeah, it was a fairly tiny cut, but it was so deep that it bled profusely.
Of course mom and I get home (I really can't remember if Uncle picked us back up or if we bussed or what)...to find the sump pump failing on us. I donned a glove, which was interesting given my pinkie was wrapped in about an inch of gauze) and started bailing. I so almost ripped those stitches out.
This wouldn't be absolutely terrible if I didn't have the field trip of the century the next day. This field trip is the best our school offers, where students get to go play in a "diamond" mine, go caving...and...WHITE WATER RAFTING BABY!!! ......Do you really think having stitches stopped me? Nope. I shoved on a glove and duct taped it shut and enjoyed my rafting on the Ottawa river!
My mom was pissed at Mrs D. though for having those cabinets like that.
and I think to this day Mrs D reads the roster each time she gets new students and prays to herself "please don't let there be a Seymour on here...please...."
Sorry for the horrible writing. Even though it's nine in the morning, it's almost bed time for me. I had one hell of an overnight at McDonald's with drunk people wanting food.
try to figure out who I am. Go on. take a wild guess...
Waaaaaay back in my freshman year of high school (okay, not way back, but a good ten years ago), I was in a cooking class. This class was hosted by a teacher named Mrs. D. (we actually did call her that). Now she had to deal with my brother, who was the typical hellraiser (think black makeup, nail polish, pentagram wearing teen who just took an easy class to get a grade), my sister, who was a normal girl...just slightly on the annoying teen side, and me...who was the same: Normal, but a teenager. (Mrs D. basically took care of the home ec department, doing parenting classes, cooking classes, etc)
Least to say, when I finally came in, she took one look at my name and said "...Seymour...you are not by chance related to Katie and Rob?" (Seymour being the phonetic way to spell my last name). I smiled, and she just gave me the death look that basically said "Why me?!?!"
I wasn't too bad (minus one of the female classmates trying to destroy a pretty picture I drew on the chalkboard before class, ignoring my pleas to stop, so I scratched her like a cat. I got in trouble of course because of her bullying, but I digress)
My favorite with Mrs D. was the time I cut my pinkie open, though. I'm actually shocked that after this incident she did not come up to me and say "Are you the youngest? Because I swear if I have to deal with another Seymour child I am going to kill myself" So anyways, we stored all of our recipes in these little cubby boxes that were in a cabinet. This cabinet had the workings of handles, but no physical handles. (If you look at your door knob, just imagine it without the part you pull, but your door still had the part where the pull handle can fit into). We opened up the doors by just sticking our fingers into the hole where the knobs used to be and pulled.
Well my friend called me one day, right as I was pulling open the cabinet, and I turned to face her. As I turned, my hand turned in the hole...and the pinkie that was in the hole went SLICE! I froze, and stared at my hand. I pulled it away to find no blood. Horray!! Went to Mrs D and said "Hey...I just cut my finger open." as I started wrapping it up in paper towels just in case. She paled magnificently and asked me if I needed to go to the nurse. I shrugged and started saying "Nah, it's not blee...wait...okay, yeah. Yeah I do." It was one of those wounds that doesn't start bleeding until a few seconds until after it happens. My body loves doing that. It was BLEEDING wonderfully. She paled even more and stuttered, asking if I needed someone to take me down to the nurse. (she wasn't paling because of the blood, but because of the havoc the Seymour children have caused her...^.^)
I declined a guide to the nurse, thinking it wasn't so bad. My mom, when she heard about that, freaked out. Not at me, but at Mrs D. not forcing me to go with someone to make sure I was okay. So anyways, I started going to the nurse. As I got to the stairs, I started feeling a bit dizzy and lightheaded. Thinking to myself "shit I need to make it down there before I pass out" I ran down the stairs (not such a bright idea...). By the bottom of the stairs I was seeing stars. I ran into the nurses office and basically screamed "I cut my finger open, and I am about to pass out from shock!!" The girl immediately jumped up and forced me onto a little cot so I didn't die.
Of course, with my luck, I got the sub-in while the actual nurse was out for lunch or some stupid shit. I don't know. I was focused on my BLEEDING finger. Said sub-in couldn't actually legally do anything accept advise me and she really wanted me to go to the hospital. Called up my mother saying this. Mom was crabby, didn't want to go to the hospital and just wanted me to finish my day (thanks mom) thinking that my wound wasn't terrible. Mom's excuse was she didn't have a car to get me from point A to B. Finally after begging and pleading from Sub In Nurse my mom borrowed our neighbors car, conned my uncle to leave work early and meet us at our house to take me to the hospital. Mom picked me up, grumbling how my pinkie looked fine and that I should have just finished the day. When we got home, she actually decided to poke the wound, which at that point stopped bleeding. Well...it stopped until she poked it, then it started its massive bleeding attack again. She finally decided it was worthy for me to go to the hospital. Uncle arrived, dropped us off at our local hospital (one of eighty gazillion)
Check in and...wait. And wait...and wait. My mom poked me at 4 and said "see, this could have happened after school!" as a little joke. Finally they took me, and I got two and half stitches (half stitch because they went through the same hole at some point). Bandaged me up and sent me on my way. And yeah, it was a fairly tiny cut, but it was so deep that it bled profusely.
Of course mom and I get home (I really can't remember if Uncle picked us back up or if we bussed or what)...to find the sump pump failing on us. I donned a glove, which was interesting given my pinkie was wrapped in about an inch of gauze) and started bailing. I so almost ripped those stitches out.
This wouldn't be absolutely terrible if I didn't have the field trip of the century the next day. This field trip is the best our school offers, where students get to go play in a "diamond" mine, go caving...and...WHITE WATER RAFTING BABY!!! ......Do you really think having stitches stopped me? Nope. I shoved on a glove and duct taped it shut and enjoyed my rafting on the Ottawa river!
My mom was pissed at Mrs D. though for having those cabinets like that.
and I think to this day Mrs D reads the roster each time she gets new students and prays to herself "please don't let there be a Seymour on here...please...."
Sorry for the horrible writing. Even though it's nine in the morning, it's almost bed time for me. I had one hell of an overnight at McDonald's with drunk people wanting food.
try to figure out who I am. Go on. take a wild guess...