Spectacular faceplant...
This morning I returned to the family homestead, to celebrate Christmas in our traditional way (drink a shit-load of home-made sloe gin and get into dreadful arguments during games of Trivial Pursuit).

Except this year, something's different. SNOW! There's a hill outside the house where the entire village goes sledging when it snows (it was empty, as it was lunchtime), so I got the toboggan from the porch, greased up the runners with candle wax, and trudged my way to the top of the hill. The first run down was ok - quite calm and gentle. I tried another spot for the second run - it was better, but not quite the tobogganing gold that I was hoping for. So I chose another spot for the third run: I lay down on the toboggan on my stomach and pushed off: WINNER! It was fast and furious - in fact, I had to drag my feet behind me to slow down, as I was about to go all the way into the hedge at the bottom.

I skipped back up the hill, and went for that same run again. I wanted to go even faster, so I thrust myself bodily onto the toboggan head-first, giving an extra push to the start of the descent. It was fantastic, I was going fucking quickly, the wind was rushing through my hair, this was maybe the fastest that anyone had ever gone down this hill OH FUCKING CHRIST SOME LITTLE BASTARD'S BUILT A RAMP.

Thud.

I'd tried steering out of the way, but succeeded in clipping the left edge of it: I flipped up in the air, toboggan and I going in different directions. I hit the ground hard, on my side, and immediately flipped over again, landing facefirst before flipping over again and finally stopping. I lay therefore a couple of seconds, completely winded and a mass of aches. Then I gingerly got up, collected the toboggan from where it had landed, and limped back home.

My father met me at the back door: he'd seen the whole thing. What were his first words to me? Are you ok? Are you hurt?
No. He excitely said "that was SPECTACULAR! You cleared at least two feet after that, and that landing was HILARIOUS! I was going to call an ambulance, but then you got up so I laughed instead." Then I swept my hair from my forehead, which was stinging at bit, and he grimaced. Turns out I'd managed to skin half my forehead by using it as a brake, and it was weeping blood everywhere. My forehead now has a large flat lump covered in slowly-scabbing flesh that's oozing plasma. I feel slightly nauseous, and my parents are paranoid that I'm concussed and am going to suddenly cark it like Natasha Richardson.

So, why the theme of schadenfreude? Who gained pleasure from my spectacular faceplant? The answer is: me. I've been laughing like a mong at myself all day now, and would quite happily go out there and do it all again. I bloody love tobogganing.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 18:09, 3 replies)

Go to A&E NOW
your parents are right.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 18:29, closed)

Ouch!
Reminds me of the time I wanted to dye my hair red; My dad said no, but later on I came home with a bright red streak through my hair and my dad went mad. Until I pointed out I'd cut my head open, that was. :)

But yes, get your head looked at, even if it is just so you don't look like something out of Star Trek. Please?
( Jimbuktu See? Right here, Wed 23 Dec 2009, 22:18, closed)

morning!
I'm fine - nausea passed, headache passed, woke up this morning still alive. My face, as is the wont with bruises and cuts, looks worse this morning than it did yesterday. But apart from that I'm fine, I'm going to go and finish my snow-flid today. Happy Christmas!
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Thu 24 Dec 2009, 9:52, closed)