Darwin Award

My wife frequently notes that I expend much more energy on these pages discussing her faults than I do my own. Therefore this entry is a brief attempt to even the score...for this week.

Erin has started a new diet over the past few days, therefore I'm doing what I can to rid the freezer of all remaining dairy treats. This includes various popsicles, Klondike bars, ice creams, and sherbets. Last night I decided to have a few scoops of rainbow sherbet. I grabbed the scoop, ran hot water on it, and scooped out 2 or 6 scoops (who's counting?).

As I began to throw the scoop in the sink, I noted a tablespoon's worth of sherbet left in the scoop, so I put the scoop in my mouth to get that last bit. At this point, I began an exact reenactment of that scene in "A Christmas Story" where the kid becomes attached to the icy flag pole.

It didn't occur to me that this would happen (obviously). I had warmed the scoop prior to use, and the sherbet wasn't sticking (initially) to the thing, so I figured I was safe. When I noticed that the scoop appeared to be sticking to my lip just a bit, I did the natural manly thing and gave the scoop a good yank.

I noted a sort of burning sensation in my mouth as I did this, but didn't think much of it. I sat down to eat my sherbet and noticed that with each bite, a new kind of red colored sherbet was forming in the cup. At this point I checked my mouth with my hand and discovered that I was bleeding profusely, having left a good portion of the left side of my lower lip on the ice cream scoop.

After spending last night trying to stop the bleeding, I awakened this morning to discover that I have a nice fat lip from the incident. Erin's sympathy ran just deep enough to inform me that I'm a moron. Sometimes she's right.