Face, Meet Pavement.

Standard Crappy Cellphone Pic.

On my weekend of Hockey and Drinks, I had a little accident.

As the group of us were leaving a pub to go for dinner at the swank restaurant, I tripped. With my hands in my pockets and some drinks under my belt, my face got to know the pavement on a personal level.

Luckily the restaurant was close, and one of the guys I was with is apparently some sort of Boyscout - we got into the bathroom and he started pulling First-Aid supplies out of his pockets. Gauze, alcohol wipes, band-aids - I thought he had robbed a hospital.

With a band-aid firmly in place, we had dinner and went to the game - although the home team lost, we still had a great time. (If you've never been to an NHL game, you're missing out.)

Can't beat the view.

Explaining my face at work the last couple of days has been a real treat - people who know me ask how drunk I was when I fell, people who work with me ask me if someone punched me (Supposedly I can be quite sarcastic at times?), and customers - well, customers are the best of all.

The customers who don't recall me from my heavier weight all ask if I hurt myself doing something active: Mountain Biking, Rock Climbing, Trail Running, etc. I'm totally taking it as a compliment, and am starting to think I should skip the truth and say that I scraped a mountainside while BASE jumping. I was going to say wrestling a Honey Badger, but I'm not sure if that's completely legal - even in Canada.

The customers who remember me as being heavier ask if I fainted or was jumped - as if my lack of size has made me frail and unable to take care of myself. (I will admit that my story that evening was that I was jumped by Ninjas, but that's only because no one would have believed Somalian Pirates.)

Every single one of them asks if it itches now that it's healing. Which it totally doesn't, until someone asks if it does. Then I feel like I want to scrape the left side of my face off.

I'll admit, tripping and falling when you're 6 or 9 is totally socially acceptable and easily explained - no one questions when my kids trip or stumble. Explaining it when you're 39? Everyone knows there's a story involved.

And they won't believe you no matter what you say.

I'll have to put up with the questions for at least another week or two - it's healing quite well - and then I can forget ever meeting pavement up close.

Thank God.








Later.