"'Tis but a scratch... I've had worse... It's just a flesh wound!... I'm INVINCIBLE!!!"

Last night I pulled the rice cooker from a top shelf.

Now, for those of you who think (because I'm obviously one talented super genius mofo) that I'm rich enough to afford my own personal chef, my own Rice Cooker Person, that first sentence might sound a little strange.

You might start to wonder why my cook was hiding in a shelf in my kitchen. You might start to think that I hired a paranoid contortionist chef who was hiding from government spies. Or you might think I have a faerie or goblin or a magical dust bunny in my employ, taking a little nap in one of my cupboards.

If you are thinking that, well, you're wrong (but you get a bonus point for having such a wonderful imagination.) Truth is, I have no personal cooker person. Yet. But oh yeah, I'm working on it. Because I am, after all, one talented super genius mofo. It even says so on my business cards.

But anyway, back to my original topic...

Last night I pulled a kitchen appliance called a rice cooker from a top shelf. I forgot that the heavy glass lid was a separate item. As in not attached. And therefore susceptible to the whims of gravity.

If I had remembered, the lid wouldn't have fallen and landed on my head.

Ouch.

Why is it that when you want to bruise, you don't? And when you don't, you do?

I wanted my forehead to bruise. A great big gnarly blue and purple bruise. Because it hurts dammit. And I want a few 'Poor Baby!'s from my coworkers. I'll even take a few 'Dumbass!'s from them for one 'Poor Baby!'

Stupid rice cooker lid.

And hey, what if I suddenly get woozy?! I want people to know the wooze is from a heinous head injury and not from me downing too many shots of tequila before work. Another reason to need a bruise.

Maybe since there's no bruise the ouch-ness will go away quicker. It's already feeling better today.

It only hurts when I do this...

::touches bump on head::

Ouch.

See? Sore. But still, it's feeling much better now.