Ooh, yowch. George dropped a shovel (the handle, fortunately) on my head yesterday, but that was just a passing pain compared with kitchen shears.

Reminds me of the time I sliced the end off my right ring finger when a glass bowl I was drying shattered in my hands. It didn't bleed in great quantities, but it sure took a long time (like, a weekend) to stop completely. The cool thing was that I could take the bandage off and squeeze my finger to send out a little jet of blood, thus entirely freaking out my susceptible cousin. :)