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12/30/2005

eye's hindsight vol 3

i'm back! it's been a mighty long vacation, and i don't mean to explain myself. except to say that big brother can kiss my ASS.

i couldn't think of a proper story to give that would make my comeback a spectacular bang like such holy hand grenades of antioch, but rather decided to do many little bangs, more like those little paper popper things packaged in sawdust that you got to throw at the ground, making a satisfying little "pop" sound, on the fourth of july when you were a little kid. and so, for today's hindsight with the eye, i give you...

bite-sized regurgitation of idiocies past

springtime, age 9
i was in fourth grade. i remember that some of the people in class would check if there were staples inside the stapler by running their finger underneath where the staples come out instead of opening the stapler up to find out. so i decided to try it one day. i put my finger under there and felt, and i didnt feel any staples. for some insane reason i squeezed the stapler. while my finger was still there. the staple sunk itself nice and deep into my finger... and got stuck in the stapler at the same time. i couldnt get it out, and it hurt.

my teacher wouldnt let me go to the nurse's office with the stapler, cuz you know, people might need to staple while im gone. or whatever. so she proceeded to work the staple out of the stapler by twisting the stapler around, pulling the stapler, stabbing me in the eye, and stomping on my throat.

i didn't like my fourth grade teacher much.


summertime, around age 9
we were having a yard sale, and i was tired of working at it. my friends' grandfather lived two doors down, and they came by to ask if i would help them clean some stuff out of the garage. so i went over to help. hell, one work, different from the other work. at least it was a change of scenery and company.

we were getting down some really old garden tools from the rafters. i grabbed a rake, and let it slide down my hands to get it out. well, it was an old rake. the wood was splintering. i got a splinter in the palm of my hand that went from just below my index finger, all the way to the opposite corner of my palm. that distance was about three inches at the time, i think.

naturally, my first reaction was to make a fist with my hand. and thus the splinter became splinters. about 25 or so. it took a long time to get all of them out. if ever i see an ice cube and a needle at the same time now, i shudder just a bit.


summertime, approximately age 11
behind my neighbor's (two doors down) garage, somebody had dumped what appeared to be a bag of concrete dust, unbagged, of course. it was a fair-sized pile of dust. naturally, the first time it rained, it became a fair-sized concrete lump. it was probably roughly four foot diameter, maybe a foot off the ground at its little peak. there were trees back there that we used to climb, and one day while climbing (ah, you saw where i was going with that whole tree thing, eh?), i noticed bees seemed to be going in and out of a hole in the lump.

well naturally, i didn't want any stinking bees lousin' up my climbing tree, so i felt that i needed to remedy the situation. i found myself a nice rock that was approximately the same size as the little hole that the bees were coming out of (ah, i see that once again, you know where i'm going here). i waited till there didn't appear to be any bees going in or out of the hole, and stuffed the rock snuggly in the hole.

now, looking back, if i were to change one thing (other than being a dumbass), i would probably have looked around the damn lump for other freaking holes.

see, if i had done that, then i wouldnt have gotten stung within about two seconds on the inside of my elbow. and then i wouldn't have needed to turn tail and run away, thus allowing the other bees to flank and route me. i also got stung on the back of my knee, and my butt cheek.


summertime, approximately age 12
back when i was young, i don't really remember when, but back when compost piles were all the rage (you know, you pile up all your food waste, and keep turning and stirring it... or somethin... and eventually you have good gardening dirt... or something like that), my dad decided that a little compost would do us good. so he made himself a compost pile. to which he added leaves and sticks from the yard whenever they fell. needless to say, it was no longer a compost pile, and more like a giant pile of dirt and sticks (which is why i know nothing about compost).

occasionally, various flying, stinging insects would inhabit said pile. during this particular year, they were your run of the mill, standard yellowjacket bees (much like those i had my run-in with the prior year... see where i'm goin again?). well, i had learned my lesson the year before. only fools try to plug up bee hives with stones. and i was no damn fool. no sir. i kept my distance and threw rocks from about 20 feet away.

and got stung on the cheek about an inch below my eye.


late autumn, approximately age 14
back in my day, i was a boy scout. and i was a good one too. by this time i was one of the elder-type scouts, and i had a leadership position. well, i had, by that time, plenty-o experience with an axe, and on this trip in the freshly fallen autumn snow, it was going to be my job to teach the younger scouts (there were cub scouts on this trip as well) how to use an axe safely and properly. one of the key rules of using an axe safely and properly is knowing how to walk with an axe safely and properly. you carry it by the head, blade forward, at your side. carrying it by the handle is not safe nor proper, as you could accidentally cut yourself, or somebody else. you hold it by the head with the blade out, so you have full control at all times. and if you accidentally fall, the sharp blade will simply stick in the ground, and save you from cutting fingers or legs or special no-no places.

i did my job, and i did it well, and got some good firewood in the process. it was time for us to go back in, so the guy teaching how to saw safely and properly and i cleaned up our area while the young-uns went on inside. we cleaned up all well and good, and i carried in a tarp and the axe.

i put the axe up on my shoulder like freaking paul bunyon as i walked. who needs safe and proper? i knew what i was doing. on the way up the slight hill i slipped in the snow just a tiny bit, and caught my balance right away. the axe blade just barely tapped my ear. damn that was close. so i held the axe safely and properly the rest of the way in. thank god nobody noticed, i would have heard about it. as we neared the cabin, i put down the axe, and at about the same time felt a light tickle on my ear. i thought nothing of it, and reached up to scratch it. and brought my hand back covered in blood. yea, that blade was stinking sharp. seriously, it was a tiny nick, but it was a really sharp blade, and made a really clean cut.

it took about twenty minutes to get it to stop bleeding.

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