a while ago
i was re-doing my kitchen and was sawing some wood for the cupboards. someone distracted me and the saw slipped and went straight into my thigh.

needless to say, the offer that distracted me, do (i want a brew?), was turned down in a tone so sweary it would embaress somebody with tourettes
(Big Ginge putting the laughter into manslaughter, Sun 6 Apr 2008, 0:51, 2 replies)

hehehe
that's funny

You're not supposed to talk to people while they are sawing.
( flirting with badgers What? It sounded good at the time., Sun 6 Apr 2008, 1:19, closed)

Distractions...
My missus, god bless her, has a gift at wandering in and demanding attention just as I am about to potentially nail my head to something, cut myself, lose a limb.

Or, whilst I am holding half a ton of masonry up, trying to ignore the white lights at the edge of vision and stop my knees from exploding under the load, she'll ask me to hold the carrier bag she has just brought in, as "it's really heavy". Then she gets upset when I swear at her. God knows why - she is a bright lass and should really understand cause and effect, i.e:
You [i]caused[/i] me to drop this piece of wood, pin my hand to the floor with your piece of furniture and then watch it topple over into my custom-made guitar with the [i]effect[/i] that I called you a stupid brainless cow who couldn't wait for five bloody seconds before trying to pull the magazine you just had to have out from under my knee.

I don't think it's just my missus who has that sixth sense for arriving at the exact [i]wrong[/i] moment, or treading on something expensive, or that you've just spent hours working on. Or knocking it over. And then, after that bubrsting into tears or getting angry at the prospect of the men-folk thinking that they had done anything wrong at all.

Wimmin, god bless 'em. Sometimes, though, I think Emily Pankhurst has a lot to answer for. That and the bastard who invented No More Nails....
(Chance, Mon 7 Apr 2008, 14:22, closed)