One liner Wednesday: Alternative dictionary.

Wednesday is wince day; the day you get to pull pained faces at my attempts to redefine perfectly good words, today’s being;

“Shampoo” – One of those fake dog turds found in joke shops.

#1linerWeds

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Sticking my neck out.

I’ve had some bloody stupid injuries in my time, but the latest one is possibly the most inane and painful of all.

I had a pretty good weekend; I went to the fair with Audrey on Friday after stopping in at the pub for a quick pint; Rhonda managed to get Saturday evening off for a change so we went to the carnival for a wander round (until it rained); there was a Grand Prix on Sunday (Vettel crashed, Ha!), the sun came out and I spent the afternoon in the garden doing some writing.

All in all, a very pleasant few days.

Then I woke up yesterday and my neck felt like someone had hit the left side of it with a cricket bat while I was asleep.

Great, must have slept funny, (no, not “ha ha”) so I took a couple of ibuprofen and went to work.

By lunchtime I couldn’t turn my head to the left, or tilt it down, or reach out my left arm, or bend forward at all, without a MASSIVE bolt of pain shooting up into the base of my skull, like someone had attached jump leads to my neck.

After couple of hours of the pain getting progressively worse, I gave in. I called the doctor and got an appointment at the rapid access clinic half an hour later, leaving work while I could still move well enough to drive…

“So, what did you do to yourself this time.”

(Oh lucky me, it’s the same nurse who patched me up after the various chunks I’ve taken out of myself on previous occasions)

“I don’t know, honestly.”

*Examines badly inflamed and rock hard neck muscles*

“Ow!”

“Hmm, did you do anything over the weekend that might have injured it?”

“No! I honestly just sat in the garden yesterday, I didn’t do anything all weekend, I went to the fair with my daughter on Friday….”

“Go on any rides?”

“Yeah, the Bumper Cars…Ah.”

“Yep, you’ve got whiplash.”

“Oh for f…”

“I’ll give you some muscle relaxants, they’re valium.”

“Really? Oh, go on then. No work?”

“Oh no, they’ll make you very sleepy, you won’t be able to drive or work for a couple of days.”

“That’s a shame.”

“I bet. Now, you can only take three a day and stop taking them when you’re better, because they’re very addictive, ok?”

“Ok, got it.”

“But I’ll give you twenty eight, anyway, because you can always hang onto them, in case you need them in future.”

(Wait, what?)

“Um, ok. How long do they last?”

“About four hours.”

“Hahaha, no, how long do they keep for?”

“Ah, right, they’ll have an expiry date on them.”

And now I’m sat at home with neck muscles that feel like strips of teak, despite the fact I felt perfectly fine all weekend.

Having never had whiplash before, I’d never fully appreciated a) how painful it is, or b) the strange delayed action involved in its onset. I went on the dodgems (with Audrey driving, I might add) at about four o’clock on Friday afternoon and had no inkling there was anything wrong until first thing Monday morning

So, there you have it.

Whiplash.

On the bloody dodgems.
They’re going to love that at work.

It was a fun day out, though, and for those of you who enjoy watching unforseen injuries in action, here’s the video I shot whilst my neck was being primed to torture me three days later.

My favourite part is near the start, when Audrey notices the camera for the first time and her expression changes from fearsome concentration to a happy grin in one quick double-take.

Buckle up, it’s a bumpy ride!

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