Today I was punched in the nose.  It was probably the hardest hit to the nose I’ve ever taken.  I didn’t bleed, but I’ve never been one to bleed from the nose anyway, so that’s not saying very much.  It hurts like fuck and it still pops when I wiggle it around.

So I was at work, building a wood chipper.  Bull and I were putting this thing called a belt guard on the chipper when it happened.  I was trying to maneuver my hands into a position that would support the weight of the belt guard, yet keep my fingers from being severed when we dropped it into place.  We had it all lined up and got ready to drop it.  I felt Bull start to let go and I did the same, pulling my hands from beneath the guard as fast as I could–making every effort to keep Thumbelina and her four friends as much of a quintet as possible.

Then *BAM!!!* I get hit, square in the schnoz.  The motherfucker sucker-punched me.  I was so intent on making sure my left hand would have all of its digits that it took me about four seconds after the attack landed to realize what had just come barreling at me with lightening speed.  But once those four seconds had passed I was hysterical with laughter.  Through the tightly clenched fist around my nose, of course.  Bull says, “What happened?  What’s wrong?  What’s so funny?”

“I just fucking punched myself in the nose.”

As the usual prankster/goof-off/joker in the shop, to say that laughter and jokes ensued for the remainder of the evening on my behalf would be an understatement.   I would expect nothing less than a pair of padded gloves and a safety briefing on not punching yourself in the face tomorrow morning.  I guess it’s my payback for sticking “Lubricate Daily” stickers on everyone’s back.