If you haven’t heard, The Chariot is performing their farewell tour. Undoubtedly, this has caused distress to their many heavy metal lovin’ fans, including my husband and my brother, Joey.
Last night, Brian hit the road with a couple of buddies and got to see them one last time. I’ll have to tell you how it went once I wake up and ask him. Presently, it’s 9:14PM on Friday night and I don’t expect to see my hubby for several more hours.
The house is silent, except for the sound of the washing machine and my clickity-clacking on the laptop. I’ve turned my arms over in this dim lighting, checking to see if my “Chariot burn” has still left its mark.
Oh, you remember that time…
(Story here… But make sure you scroll down and read the following post so that Brian can save face.)
Yep. Still there. Who needs a band T-shirt when you’ve got a two year old burn to cherish instead? Especially one that makes you look like you’ve been slapped by an octopus!
Scars have never really bothered me much though… I suppose perhaps because there presently aren’t any on my face. There’s the scar on my torso from scratching at chicken pox as a little girl, one on my chest from a mole removal (looks like a cigarette burn now), and several on my hands from my work shears. We keep a steady supply of bandaids in the back room for that very reason. I don’t know a single stylist who hasn’t regretted one or two nearly fatal snips.
Do you have any scars?
Oh, that reminds me!
I’ve seen this pic floating around Pinterest and it cracks me up every time.
LOL! So true! Those popsicle packages are the devil!
Have a great weekend!
One on my right knee from doing a knee slide down the driveway when my feet came off my bike pedals when I was much younger. One on my right index knuckle from a glass that broke while I was doing dishes. And a teeny tiny one on my right arm from the coagulation test prior to my major oral surgery in 1995.
hahah! LOVE THAT PICTURE. so true.
One on my knee from falling down carpeted stairs into the side of a desk my senior year of high school. Three on my right hand, which have all connected into one long one. One on my right wrist from basketball. And two little claw marks on my right arm from the last time we took Abbey to the vet. I think that’s all…for now, anyway.
i’ve got so many scars i probably look like a mad scientist’s sewing project! my legs not only have a number of scars from various childhood trauma (i was always falling out of trees, off my bike, etc), but there’s a big long one on myright knee from several repairs (back in the days before arthroscopic surgery) and on my left knee, there’s a short one along the side from an ACL repair, and much farther up on my thigh from my hip replacement.
on my left shoulder there’s a big round scar from a lump removal (benign) that could have been smaller, but the surgical resident who did the surgery had a really bad attitude, and i could tell from the stitches that he didn’t care what my scar looked like–oh, the joys of being seen at a VA hospital by residents who don’t consider us to be “real” patients!
on my left wrist, i’ve got a small scar where a box cutter slipped (6 stitches)
on my inner right arm, i’ve got a couple of short scars from when i fell out of a tree at camp and refused to let them take me to an ER for stitches
i’m sure i have a lot more that i don’t remember
but let me say that having all kinds of visible scars has never stopped me from wearing shorts, sleeveless tops, bathing suits, etc. i consider my scars to be visible signs of my having lived my life as fullyas possible! 🙂
Shew! I remember that octo burn. Owie. And those darn plastic pops always cut my mouth but I couldn’t stop eating them. Pfft.