"Dazed, beautiful & bruised"
I'm sorry, it appears I've been neglecting you.
It's all about timing.
I was gonna post on Thursday but I couldn't bring myself to talk about the thing that made me say "That was the most frightening thing I've experienced in a long time" after what happened in London on Thursday morning. It just was not appropriate.Since then I simply haven't been at home long enough to post.
So Reckless was nagging me about how I shouldn't abandon all hope for the Flashmobile. He thinks I can pick another engine up for under a ton & that he's capable of fitting it. Of course this meant going to fetch the flashmobile back from Leicester forest east service station. We had a nice drive up there, it's not very often that we spend time together without anyone else about & we had quite a laugh.
Reckless (Hey that's his name kids!) let me drive his car while he skinned up.
Then we smoked it.
Then we became very stoned (it's good shit we've got at the mo!).
Honestly, neither of us realised what a very silly thing we were doing & I don't think even Reckless foresaw just how stoned we would get.
So we hung around the services a bit & straightened up a bit.Then it was time.Reckless attached the tow rope to our respective cars, gave me a little pep talk on how to be towed & we slowly moved off to join the police escort that he'd already secured for us. They only took us up the service road out of there but, hey you want drama, right?
Anyway the police waved us off & we were now on the queen's highway. I was rigid with fear & concentration. To such an extent that I didn't even plug Humbert in. I know!!!
We wove across from Leicester to Hinckley, at one point we got up to about 55mph & I was bricking it. I actually had my foot on the brake pedal for the whole journey & could smell them burning at one point. We then got on the A5 which meant a nice straight road practically the whole way back to Crapsville. It also meant Reckless could increase his average speed thus decreasing the chance of me relaxing even a little tiny bit. Honestly folks, following a car at 75mph when you are only 6 feet behind it will make you about as unrelaxed as you can get.Eventually we got back to Crapsville & I got out of my little car, still shaking & made the proclamation above.
I really was so very scared, real proper fear but I'm sure it was nothing like the fear people must have felt only 70 miles down the road that morning. So I hope you dig why I elected not to post on thursday. I'm genuinely sorry if my absence caused any worry amongst you all.
Friday was just work, The Boy & my usual consumption of Vodka over at Reckless & Dream Girl's house.
Saturday was a good day. It was Small Doses (Funny Dance's brother) stag day. The plan was a whole day of Paintballing & then a piss up in Northampton. I had paid for Reckless to come paintballing for a belated birthday present for him as I knew he'd always wanted to go. Sadly Funny Dance himself didn't make it. He had some cartrouble of his own whilst down in Somerset on Friday & couldn't get home. He's still not back yet, though he has just phoned & he's now on his way & he's gutted at missing his brother's stag do.The paintball place was down near Banbury & was quite different from the last one I went to. In one way in particular.This quote from the last time I went : "I got shot many times myself & think I got lucky because none of them really hurt. I'd been told that it stung like fuck!".
Hmmph.
Today I am sporting a colossal purple bruise on my right thigh, a quite nasty double bruise just under my right shoulder, a bruise on my right wrist (don't worry it won't affect my sex life!), one under my right manboob & I ache all over. Oh they really bloody hurt this time.
However, it was cracking fun. I got well into it & about halfway through the day my great moment of heroism happened. I captured the flag.There I am alone behind a big tree. I've managed to pick off a couple of charlies from the reds so I find myself in view of the bridge in a very quiet area, I send off a couple of shots at the tin hut to see if I could draw the sniper's fire. No sniper. Then I make a bolt for the tin cubicle type thing on the edge of the bridge. There is another one on the adjacent side of the bridge & one of my platoon appears from the trees & runs into that one.
"Cover me" he shouts
"I'm outta ammo" I say "Wait there"
I run across to him, dodging a couple of bullets en route."I've got no bullets, so you cover me" with that I went scurrying to the middle of the bridge, expecting any second to be cut down in a hail of little orange balls. None emerged & unchallenged I proudly held the flag above my head and hear the marshall proclaim "Blue team wins". My soldier buddy who covered me, comes up, puts his arm round me, rubs my head & drapes the flag round me. We stride into the safezone to be greeted like heroes. Which of course we were.
By now I felt like I was a marine or Rambo or something. This carried on till the final game, with only a handfull of bullets left it was time for Hunt the Stag. All of us (12) against 1. In the end it became 8 versus 4. I was on the 8. We collectively decided we would make use of our numbers & just rush them.
So we charged.
I perhaps charged a bit more enthusiastically then the rest of them. For as I ran, giving it some "AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH" & indiscriminately firing my gun in their general direction I felt that now familiar short sharp pain ripping through my shoulder. "Fuck"Then again."FUCK"then in the space of only a second or two; again & again & again & again & again & again.
I was being fucking liquefied out there.
And I was dancing like a thriller era Michael Jackson.
And I swore more than a particularly badass rapper, with Tourette's.
And I ran away.
Turns out I got mown down in my prime because I was the only one charging.
Bastards.
Though it's a lot of fun, paintballing has a big downside: It costs shitloads to buy more bullets & you have to buy them cos without bullets there's no point being there. Subsequently Reckless & I bowed out of the evening piss up on financial grounds.
We just got pissed at his, sweet.
Today has been fairly evenly split between driving to & from Northampton (Funny Dance lent me his other car while in Somerset) & aching.
Before I go I'd just like to go back to bruises a minute. When I showed Dream Girl my leg bruise she winced but said "It's nowhere near as bad as your tambourine bruise though". She was right. My Tambourine bruise was literally the size of a football spanning the whole of the outer side of my upper leg. It was acquired by having a bit of a jam with Reckless. Mic in one hand & tambourine in the other. Without noticing or feeling any pain I played it against the side of my leg for about an hour. God it was a beauty!If anyone else has any impausablely-acquired bruise stories, do tell!
Oh & by the way, it's exactly one year ago today since I last had sex.
Shit.
It's all about timing.
I was gonna post on Thursday but I couldn't bring myself to talk about the thing that made me say "That was the most frightening thing I've experienced in a long time" after what happened in London on Thursday morning. It just was not appropriate.Since then I simply haven't been at home long enough to post.
So Reckless was nagging me about how I shouldn't abandon all hope for the Flashmobile. He thinks I can pick another engine up for under a ton & that he's capable of fitting it. Of course this meant going to fetch the flashmobile back from Leicester forest east service station. We had a nice drive up there, it's not very often that we spend time together without anyone else about & we had quite a laugh.
Reckless (Hey that's his name kids!) let me drive his car while he skinned up.
Then we smoked it.
Then we became very stoned (it's good shit we've got at the mo!).
Honestly, neither of us realised what a very silly thing we were doing & I don't think even Reckless foresaw just how stoned we would get.
So we hung around the services a bit & straightened up a bit.Then it was time.Reckless attached the tow rope to our respective cars, gave me a little pep talk on how to be towed & we slowly moved off to join the police escort that he'd already secured for us. They only took us up the service road out of there but, hey you want drama, right?
Anyway the police waved us off & we were now on the queen's highway. I was rigid with fear & concentration. To such an extent that I didn't even plug Humbert in. I know!!!
We wove across from Leicester to Hinckley, at one point we got up to about 55mph & I was bricking it. I actually had my foot on the brake pedal for the whole journey & could smell them burning at one point. We then got on the A5 which meant a nice straight road practically the whole way back to Crapsville. It also meant Reckless could increase his average speed thus decreasing the chance of me relaxing even a little tiny bit. Honestly folks, following a car at 75mph when you are only 6 feet behind it will make you about as unrelaxed as you can get.Eventually we got back to Crapsville & I got out of my little car, still shaking & made the proclamation above.
I really was so very scared, real proper fear but I'm sure it was nothing like the fear people must have felt only 70 miles down the road that morning. So I hope you dig why I elected not to post on thursday. I'm genuinely sorry if my absence caused any worry amongst you all.
Friday was just work, The Boy & my usual consumption of Vodka over at Reckless & Dream Girl's house.
Saturday was a good day. It was Small Doses (Funny Dance's brother) stag day. The plan was a whole day of Paintballing & then a piss up in Northampton. I had paid for Reckless to come paintballing for a belated birthday present for him as I knew he'd always wanted to go. Sadly Funny Dance himself didn't make it. He had some cartrouble of his own whilst down in Somerset on Friday & couldn't get home. He's still not back yet, though he has just phoned & he's now on his way & he's gutted at missing his brother's stag do.The paintball place was down near Banbury & was quite different from the last one I went to. In one way in particular.This quote from the last time I went : "I got shot many times myself & think I got lucky because none of them really hurt. I'd been told that it stung like fuck!".
Hmmph.
Today I am sporting a colossal purple bruise on my right thigh, a quite nasty double bruise just under my right shoulder, a bruise on my right wrist (don't worry it won't affect my sex life!), one under my right manboob & I ache all over. Oh they really bloody hurt this time.
However, it was cracking fun. I got well into it & about halfway through the day my great moment of heroism happened. I captured the flag.There I am alone behind a big tree. I've managed to pick off a couple of charlies from the reds so I find myself in view of the bridge in a very quiet area, I send off a couple of shots at the tin hut to see if I could draw the sniper's fire. No sniper. Then I make a bolt for the tin cubicle type thing on the edge of the bridge. There is another one on the adjacent side of the bridge & one of my platoon appears from the trees & runs into that one.
"Cover me" he shouts
"I'm outta ammo" I say "Wait there"
I run across to him, dodging a couple of bullets en route."I've got no bullets, so you cover me" with that I went scurrying to the middle of the bridge, expecting any second to be cut down in a hail of little orange balls. None emerged & unchallenged I proudly held the flag above my head and hear the marshall proclaim "Blue team wins". My soldier buddy who covered me, comes up, puts his arm round me, rubs my head & drapes the flag round me. We stride into the safezone to be greeted like heroes. Which of course we were.
By now I felt like I was a marine or Rambo or something. This carried on till the final game, with only a handfull of bullets left it was time for Hunt the Stag. All of us (12) against 1. In the end it became 8 versus 4. I was on the 8. We collectively decided we would make use of our numbers & just rush them.
So we charged.
I perhaps charged a bit more enthusiastically then the rest of them. For as I ran, giving it some "AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH" & indiscriminately firing my gun in their general direction I felt that now familiar short sharp pain ripping through my shoulder. "Fuck"Then again."FUCK"then in the space of only a second or two; again & again & again & again & again & again.
I was being fucking liquefied out there.
And I was dancing like a thriller era Michael Jackson.
And I swore more than a particularly badass rapper, with Tourette's.
And I ran away.
Turns out I got mown down in my prime because I was the only one charging.
Bastards.
Though it's a lot of fun, paintballing has a big downside: It costs shitloads to buy more bullets & you have to buy them cos without bullets there's no point being there. Subsequently Reckless & I bowed out of the evening piss up on financial grounds.
We just got pissed at his, sweet.
Today has been fairly evenly split between driving to & from Northampton (Funny Dance lent me his other car while in Somerset) & aching.
Before I go I'd just like to go back to bruises a minute. When I showed Dream Girl my leg bruise she winced but said "It's nowhere near as bad as your tambourine bruise though". She was right. My Tambourine bruise was literally the size of a football spanning the whole of the outer side of my upper leg. It was acquired by having a bit of a jam with Reckless. Mic in one hand & tambourine in the other. Without noticing or feeling any pain I played it against the side of my leg for about an hour. God it was a beauty!If anyone else has any impausablely-acquired bruise stories, do tell!
Oh & by the way, it's exactly one year ago today since I last had sex.
Shit.
And that's what Flash thinks today @ 23:40
7 Comments:
At 11:51 pm,
Anonymous said…
Great story.
Why yes, I currently am sporting two bruises.
One is very ugly. It is on my right bicep area facing the public. I can't remember if I did it on Sunday or Monday morning, regardless it started to shine it's ugly color of BLACK on Tuesday. Today I was told it looked like a tattoo (cool) it is a patchy purple with the little red blood dots in the center.
How did I do it? I ran into something, can't remember what, just remember when it happened I said to myself that would leave a bruise. I was correct.
Then I discovered a small bruise on my right love handle. I really have no clue where that came from. I think from the rides on vacation. Atleast that's my story.
At 12:58 am,
Charby said…
Paintballing rocks! I went for my 18th! I was always out after like 3 minutes though!
I'm always covered in bruises but half the time I can't figure out how I've got them or i've been given them by fighting with my Derby lads.
My dad reckoned he could change a car engine once and that it'd take him one afternoon.
It took him 3 months!!!!!!!
Hope Reckless can do it better and quicker!
At 2:44 am,
HistoryGeek said…
Occassional inexplicable bruising, but none quite so spectacular.
The two worst bruises I ever got...about a year ago, I slipped while walking in the rain and banged my knee bad. But the worst was in high school on a church retreat when I was getting out of the top bunk of a bunk bed, I slipped and hit the top part of a straight back chair with my ribs. I actually think I cracked something (but didn't have it checked out) - It certainly looked like someone took a baseball bat to me. I've never slept on the top bunk of a bunkbed again.
At 5:00 am,
Hyde said…
I wish I could have witnessed your heroics! It sounds like quite a dramatic moment. As for bruises, I'm frequently covered in them--mostly from bumping into things drunk, I'm guessing. Then there's also the occasional "sexual injury." Those are always more fun...
At 8:43 am,
LB said…
i had stitches once after a "being hit in the head in a nasty swingball incident". does that count?
.."dancing like a Thriller era Michael Jackson..." heh heh heh
At 2:38 pm,
Mike Davis said…
Injured playing swingball? That is sad in so many ways, Lord Bargain!
Great story Flash - makes me long for the days when I had enough mates to go paintballing!
At 4:00 pm,
cruciate ligament said…
I'm playing tambourine in a band (among a couple other instruments and singing)
After two gigs in two nights my hand feels like it's almost broken. I stopped banging it on my leg because it was bruising as you described, but I think I might start using the leg again because I prefer having two working hands.
It's amazing how much you can hurt yourself when you're having fun. After we loaded all our stuff out I was trying to do a Cleese-style silly walk and fell over on a road. But that's a different story altogether.
Found your blog by Googling 'tambourine bruising'. Excellent.
Post a Comment
<< Home