There’s a lot to be said for taking a knock to the head. And yesterday I did just that. I was completely engrossed in my task at hand, which was moving a pile of books from one corner of the stockroom to another.

Stack.

Pick up.

Walk.

Put down.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

So after the hundredth time of doing that, you would have thought I’d have gotten it down to a fine art. I could have done it with my eyes closed. Perhaps that was my mistake. I was on the final step of that glorious process and as I was straightening up from moving yet more books – my eyes were closed in a world weary sort of way – when my head connected with the metal latch on the stockroom door. I say “connected” like it was a type of metaphysical connection, as in I had a moment with this piece of metal that changed me in some meaningful way, but it didn’t. It was a full on physical connection, complete with pain, shock and dare I say it, slight hysteria.

Fuck.

It hurt.

I screamed. Literally screamed.

ARGH. YOU FUCKING CUNT.

Then I burst into tears. Shocked tears. Painful tears. I felt like a five year old who cries instantly after falling over and scraping their knee. Only I was grown woman, my hands were black from the dust and I was wiping my tears away with them, leaving black smudges over my face.

I was a mess.

Tentativley, I prodded my head for the damage. No blood at least. But there was a dent. I had a fucking dent in my head. I was still crying and I still had more books to move.

So I stopped my crying and went back to moving books; that’s what I was being paid for after all – not to stand around dazed and in pain. I’d obviously taken leave of my senses at this point if I thought that was more important than my health.

Anyway, some forty minutes later when my colleague returned from his break and we started talking to fill the dusty silence, something strange happened. Every time he said something, I found it so hysterically funny, I couldn’t stop laughing. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a funny guy and says humorous things on a regular basis, but this time it was hysterical. I was manic. Hahaha. Ha. Ha. My world was spinning a little.

Have you taken a knock to the head he asked me?

And then I remembered I had.

Thankfully my shift was ending soon after, I don’t think I could have continued laughing in that capacity without eventually cracking a rib.

So what’s with the title of this post then? How does it relate to my head busting day at work? It doesn’t. It’s what happened after.

Friday afternoon I’d scheduled in a date with one of the coolest dudes on the planet: Peter. He’s my pick me up, my put me down and my clown around. We’d barely been in his flat five minutes before the first bottle of wine was opened. I thought perhaps the alcohol would have blocked out the pain in my head, but it didn’t. If anything it made it worse. So I drank more in the hopes that eventually I’d be too gone to feel anything.

Hey it worked.

Trouble is, when you’re drunk, you’re easily persuaded to do things you wouldn’t normally do. Which is how I found myself dancing around his living room with yogurt on my face to the track: All over your face – by Cazwell.

Was it the knock to my head that caused me to act like a yogurt covered twat? Perhaps it was the obscene amount of alcohol I consumed which I stupidly mixed with ibuprofen. Honestly, I’d like to say it was all of the above, but after listening to the track again this morning, I can happily say I’d smear yogurt all over my face and dance with wild abandon, again and again.

What a great end to a shitty week.

Tags: Funny, Life, Random

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 14th, 2010 at 9:29 am and is filed under Funny, Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.