Drop kick me Jesus, through the goal posts of life

[kickaha]

When building the furniture yesterday, I found that my nifty difty drill wouldn't drive a series of screws because they were sunken too deep into the frontspiece, and I don't have a bit extender.

So I did them by hand.

50 3" screws.

In a row.

No pausing.

Only when I was done, did I realize that the dull throbbing in my the middle of my right palm, where I was pushing on the end of the screwdriver, was because I'd worn away the skin and created a hole somewhere between 1/4" and 1/2" across. The constant pressure deadened it so I couldn't feel it until it was alllllll over.

I've got a redneck stigmata.

Comments

[kickaha.livejournal.com]

It's a spray used by athletic trainers to get bandage wraps and tape to stick better. It's also used to toughen the skin to form callouses. It does this by killing the outer skin layers and thickening them. Spraying it on an open wound is Not Advised(tm). I have a longish story about that, if you're interested :)

[badger.livejournal.com]

Great. Next time I feel a desire to torture someone with artifically-induced psoriasis, I'll know what to shop for :). Sure, I love stories. On or offline as you wish.

[kickaha.livejournal.com]

While the latest regression test run is going... *cracks knuckles*

So growing up, we had a crazy redneck neighbor. Well, they were *all* crazy redneck neighbors, but Dan took the crown. Nice guy, just a little... touched.

One Sunday morning in January, waaaaay too early, we hear a loud BOOM from outside. We head out in our robes to find Dan standing on the side of his house, in his boxers, knee deep in snow. In his hand is his trusty 12ga shotgun. With an 8" barrel. Damned near a cannon in pistol form. He's looking up in satisfaction at the side of his house, where there's now a large hole.

"DAN!? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?" My Dad yells.

"I GOT THE SON OF A BITCH! I FINALLY GOT THE SON OF A BITCH!" He yells back.

See, there was a woodpecker nesting in the side of his house, on the bedroom wall, and he'd had enough.

So if that isn't enough, that's just the prelude for why Dan is outside in his boxers (and bare feet) on a bitingly cold winter's day. He walks halfway across the street while we're talking back and forth, and stands in the middle of the road. Now, the road is actually old US Highway 2, built in the 40s at the latest. Which means it's concrete. And he's standing on it, in about 0deg weather, in bare feet.

So when he sees a car coming (like literally a mile away), he says "Oops! Gotta go! Car!" and then finds out that his feet have frozen to the pavement. He kind of does this spastic dance, and my Mom starts laughing and says "Hold on, I'll get some warm water" Dan says "No time!" (Which was BS, he had a minute or so, and it wasn't like the road was treacherous for the car - it was already slowing down and getting ready to go around this crazy hairy guy in the middle of the road.) And then he *yanks his feet off the pavement*. Unfortunately this left the bottoms of his feet still frozen to the concrete. Yup, there were Dan callouses on the roadbed.

He goes hopping back to his house, "ow ow ow ow ow ow ow" as we're just staring and, admittedly, laughing our asses off.

Later in the day, his wife comes over to talk about what an idiot her husband is, when my Dad casually mentions that TuffSkin works for making new callouses...

When she got back from the store, he was asleep on the couch with his feet propped up.



You could hear the bellow from our house.