I was getting ready to take a shower to help my hangover and really had to go to the bathroom. I had just eaten a big, greasy breakfast after a long night of drinking, and it wanted out. Before I sat on the toilet I walked by the mirror and noticed I needed to shave my face. I’ve never been a fan of normal razors, so I just use hair clippers without the guard on. Seems to cut my facial hair short enough, but doesn’t give me the “baby face” that I hate. Standing in front of the mirror naked, I ran the clippers across my face and noticed they seemed to be getting a little dull. I had these particular clippers for a couple years now, so it was finally time for some new ones. I finished up, and as I shut them off I looked down and figured “what the hell”…I could use a little trim “down there” around the frank and beans.
Normally the thought of blades near your goods would scare anyone away. Not this idiot. I turned the clippers back on and decided to give myself a trim before I threw out the old clippers. I was being very careful for obvious reasons. Not getting too close to anything and going slow. At one point I was lifting the frank up to get to the part between the frank and beans, and I don’t know how it happened, but I heard the hum of the clippers suddenly change to a lower pitch like I had tried to cut a piece of aluminum siding. I let out a scream, and when I looked down there was already a small pool of blood on the floor.
|I must have used the mini-chainsaw by accident|
When the adrenaline finally kicked in and I felt like I wasn’t going to pass out I realized I still had to take a shit. “Oh man, how the hell am I going to pull this one off” is what went through my mind. Of all times to have to go, why now? Still with my junk in my fist, I tried to sit down on the toilet, and it was very awkward. I took care of business without letting go.
I got in the shower, and the hot water on my fresh cut felt like battery acid. I let out another yell and the roommate came back in. “Jesus, what’s that fucking smell?” she asked. I said “when you gotta go, you gotta go, now get out of here”. I managed to wash up in the shower through the excruciating pain and toweled myself off with one hand, and the other still hadn’t let go.
The rest of the day was spent with me sitting naked in my living room recliner, a towel underneath me, and a wash cloth wrapped around my junk with me squeezing it. The roommate kept telling me she thought we should call the ambulance, and I kept saying I’d rather bleed to death. She spent hours researching medical websites and reading her findings to me. One site said this sort of cut could cause permanent loss of sensation and erectile dysfunction. That comment got me thinking: “Shit, what’s going to happen when I get a hard-on in my sleep? Am I going to wake up in a pool of blood screaming?” Luckily there were no major consequences. I told the roommate that she was NEVER to tell anyone about this experience, but the next time I was out with friends I had to tell the story. Now the entire world knows.