I first met Mr. Murphy when I was a year old. My mom thought it just fine to let me stand in the front seat of the car, no seatbelt, while she drove. My mother, the woman who yelled at driver's such lovely phrases as, "Didn't you see me blowing?" as she honked her horn at the person stealing her parking spot. The same woman who was driving a motorcycle (not sure whose brilliant idea that was), and became hypnotized by the spinning crome rims of an eighteen-wheeler, and then drove into a ditch. No injuries, so it's still funny.
The ambulance arrived and began treatment on my mom. She had a cut on her forehead and was completely frazzled. One of the paramedics picked me up. I screamed. He tried his best to soothe me. I screamed.
We all piled into the ambulance. Mother was recounting the moment when the fire hydrant leapt in front of the car. I screamed. The paramedic began to bounce me on his knee. A game of horsey surely will calm the distraught child. And I, yep, you guessed it, screamed.
Nearly two hours later after Mother had been issued a band-aid and a glass of water, my father pointed out to the physicians that my screams were those of pain. An X-ray showed the fractures quite clearly. Maybe jiggling a child with a broken leg was not the best idea. I was issued a big fat walking cast to hobble along in.
Hope you guys enjoy the new blog. Let's start it off right. Share this via twitter and Facebook (buttons below), and then share a Murphy's Law moment in the comments. Please try to keep them humorous. This is a tissue free zone.