That's right, you guessed it. This entry will be dedicated to basketball. Tonight was the first game of the session for Women's basketball. We had a good turnout for our team and I'm pretty excited for the session. It was rough though, and I may need a blood transfusion, I'll at least need some new socks.
Now be warned I took pictures, as I usually do of my wounds, but there is blood
involved in the story as well as in the pictures. So if you have a weak stomach (and I know from Cassie's blog today that she
does not) then maybe you should skip this post. I have
absolutely no
qualms about showing my blood, because quite frankly I think you should suffer through what I am going through. Now that you know I'm a sadist maybe it will be easier for you to turn away.
Okay then...Here we go.
So I got there a little early to just to make sure I was there. I always get nervous that we won't have enough girls and my worst nightmare (basketball wise) is that we will have to forfeit. (My worst nightmare in real life is being in a wide open field in the pitch black night with spiders and snakes crawling all over me...just in case you wanted to know that). I bought hot pink duck tape so that the girls wouldn't have to write on their shirts with marker for their numbers.
Needless to say I have been relieved of my duct tape number making duties.
The game was pretty intense and the refs were calling fouls left and right. I didn't like it, but they were. I had two by half time and four with two minutes left in the game. The funny thing is though, none of my injuries came from the other team, but from my very own teammate! At one time our ball was about to go out of bounds because a shot that wasn't going to make it to the backboard. I ran to get it and at the same time my team member ran to get it too. Suddenly we collided. It was the coolest thing ever and my only regret is that I couldn't see it from a different perspective. It felt pretty cool, it hurt really bad. We both slammed into the divider between the gym and the chapel, and I was on the lower end of the collision and got the brunt of it.
It doesn't look like much now, but if you look closely you can see that it is already beginning to bruise, and it's swollen, so fingers crossed I'll have a pretty cool bruise to show you in a day or two. We'll see though. It sure hurts so it'd better produce a good looking bruise.
But that's not all folks! I got a rinky dink looking cut on my hand that people assumed were the claws marks from the other team. Nope, it was from the bottom part of the dividers.
It doesn't look like much, but it's also a painful one, and it stings.
I played for a little bit, bleeding, but I really didn't want to get my blood on anyone and I knew that if they noticed they would pull me out so I got a sub and went to the bathroom to wipe it all down. When I came back in lovely Amber told me to spit in my wounds to stop the bleeding. So I licked my hand and she said, "No you have to spit it in." Well that elbow one is not an easy one to spit (I dare you to try and spit on your elbow). She kept saying, "Spit on it, spit on it!" I couldn't take the pressure and I said, "
You spit on it!" And before I had time to realize what I said...she spit on it. Yeah, she did. I know, you moms out there who drink after your children and go in after their boogies, you aren't phased by this. For the rest of us who haven't developed that strange super power, that's just gross. I
couldn't believe she did it, but you know what? It worked. Human spit - the cure all.
My worst cut I didn't even noticed until I got home and hit my ankle with my other foot by accident. Then I thought, "Hey, that hurts?" So I looked at it and said, "Oh hey, that's bleeding!" Yeah, I think we've already discussed before that I'm a quick one. Here it goes, the picture. You've been warned.
Hence the reason I might need to throw the socks out. I would post a picture of what the socks look like, yes, plural, socks. They are both pretty bloody. I thought I would spare you the worst of it. Hey, at least these aren't pictures of my feet when I had the second degree burns. Granted, these pictures may be nothing, but I felt the need to warn just in case someone sees them as vile, disgusting photos of blood and carnage.
And you know? I didn't even foul out. Took it all the way to four and couldn't seal the deal with a number five. Pathetic. I
did make 11 points though, and that's surprised me a bit because I rebound and fall on the ground more than I shoot...so...you know, go me.