Well, that certainly got your attention, didn’t it? Before I start, I need to say that I did not post the pictures below for compliments as some people might. I know, I know, I have wonderfully beautiful and soft supple hands with perfectly proportioned digits attached. I should definitely be modeling some high-end rings or brass knuckles, but I’m not here to talk about that. I’m here to warn you about the terrible danger that I learned about last weekend: The dangers of Heavy Machinery. I’m not being dramatic either – look at my hand in the attached photos.
I know what your reaction is, because when I looked at it (as any sensible person would) I immediately assumed that I had developed stigmata . Don’t worry, I already checked with my Priest and then a doctor to make sure as that was my first thought too. Don’t get nervous…Crisis averted. Great, now you’re reading this thinking “He’s gonna get all religious like Lisa” and start “Talking about the second coming” or start singing “Like a Prayer” but I won’t. OK, I have been known to burst into song at the drop of a hat (Think of it as a really offensive, less GLEEful performance than you’re used to seeing on TV – I was the one who originally put the Glee in UGLY.)
I would like to tell you that this painful little wound came from a gunshot or from me shooting too many webs out of my hand like Peter Parker, but alas – this is a lesson I had to learn the hard way. This war wound is from my battle assembling a plastic laundry room organizer. It’s more of a rolling cart for detergent and the like with two pieces of plastic held together by six screws. It may seem like an innocent little task, but it took me an eternity to assemble. The power screwdriver wasn’t charged, so I had to go all prehistoric and actually use a manual screwdriver. Low and behold – the skin in the middle of my hand was worn off…And to top it all off, the damn thing stands a little crooked and rocks back and forth, but at least it’s finally put together…
OK, so maybe I’m not the handiest person that ever lived and my fifteen month old son is more capable with tools than I am, but in my defense; the only screwdrivers I’m used to handling are loaded with vodka.
At the heart of it, I really don’t see the point of my being handy – nothing good can come of it! I want to make those people that are handy feel good about themselves and important when I ask them to do something for me. It’s my way of giving back – sort of like Oprah’s Angel Network. I go around and spread my cheer and make these people feel better about themselves and on the plus side, I get out of all manner of chores. No one ever asks my uncoordinated ass to help with anything and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
Who do you think changed my flat tire in a snowstorm? I would have waited all night for Triple A, but my sister-in-law came and did it while I held her white coat. Did I feel a tinge of guilt that she was out there on all fours working that jack like a pro or like I was less of a man? Not one little bit! It was freezing cold and her coat was keeping me warm. I’m not even kidding; I’m of absolutely no use whatsoever in 99.8 % of all tasks performed at any given time. If you need to know random facts about episodes of the best TV show that ever aired (Dynasty, of course) or if you are looking for an Imodium I’m your guy. Other than that – call my sister-in-law.