I killed a man in Reno.

I mean, I didn’t really kill a man in Reno. But I’m working on my alibi for as to why it looks like I was attacked by an angry kitten.

I went to soccer tonight with every intention of playing, dying, then coming home, posting a video, winning a bet and then going to sleep. This was not in the cards.

I’m on the field. A guy is coming at me with the ball. At the last second, he turns and goes into me with his shoulder. His shoulder, full force into my face. I fly off my feet, like I always do and land. My face hurts.

I yell things.

Poof would later tell me I went down in a puddle of fucks.

The guy keeps going but the ref blows the whistle.

“I didn’t even hit her!”

I yell more things. I’m bleeding.

I run off the field.

The front desk staff MacGyver‘s an ice pack for me and some ladies on the bench debate if I need stitches.

Nobody makes me bleed my own blood.

Nobody makes me bleed my own blood. Photo courtesy to Poof, because she wanted the blood in the picture.

So, the game ends, and I tell everyone and their mother about my lip. And that’s about when I decide this is much more important than a fitted sheet.

Reaction 1. Poof, from her perspective.

Reaction 2. Soccer v. Hockey


Hockey Friend: You’re so dramatic. Hockey players cut their lips all the time and go back and play.

Me: It wouldn’t stop bleeding!

Hockey Friend: You’re so dramatic!


Reaction 3. TwitterVerse.

Reaction 4. L.A. converses with her father.

Me: Hey Dad.

Dad: You’re home.

Me: Yup.

Dad: OH! You’ve got a brute.

Me: Yup.

Dad: …well, I’m sorry.

Me: Thanks.

Dad: Who’d you piss off?

*Update: upon waking up this morning, the cut had not healed, but instead had decided to bleed all over my bed. It was like waking up in a horror movie. So, I headed to an urgent care, and the old man doctor glued my lip together, so it wouldn’t keep re-opening. Then he warned me to “limit my mouth actions.”

*Update Two: upon the re-hashing of the tale with Poof, the following discussion happened.

Blood and words


So, you owe a thank you to Poof for the painting with the words, to match my painting my tale with my blood. HashTag. BloodBrothers.

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About L.A.

Mom Life/Engaged Life/Blog Life/Love Life

Posted on March 14, 2013, in PSA, Sporty type things that aren't hockey, Twatterpants and other social networks and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. thefroglyprince

    In the picture with the ice pack you manage to look cute while also looking like you are ready to kill. Congrats.

  2. I’m beginning to wonder how many of your conversations involve someone blankly staring at you after you’ve said something.

    Has to be, at least, a daily thing.

    • Some people just don’t understand my level of funny. I’m gonna need all people, including old man doctors, to join me up here. Where the air is crisp.

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