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The dumbest way I've ever injured myself.

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Back in the summer of 2006 I had a strict daily schedule.

Everyday I'd wake up at eight in the morning, take my cousin Matthew to school, return to my granddads house at about nine in the morning.
From there I simply left MSN on and played on the Wii-Fit all day until somebody spoke to me and we'd arrange a day out from there.

One sunny day in May I was doing just that, 20 Jackknifes, followed by 'the plank stretch' had eventually rendered me far too tired to workout anymore. "Alright, fuck this". I thought to myself as I switched over to the music channels.
I settled for Kerrang, a rock channel. I went onto MSN and spoke to a few people about meeting up to go swimming, it looked as if my day had taken some form of direction.

"Alright, cool I'll meet you in a bit!" I probably said to Dan. I went into the bathroom, had a shower, spiked my hair, and admired the beautiful guy staring back at me in the mirror. I proceeded from that moment on to pour myself a pint sized glass of Vanilla coke, and more or less downed it.
Dressed up in shorts and tee-shirt, hair spiked to perfection and my system jam packed with energy from the coke. I was ready to rock'n'roll.
I was about to turn off the T.V, but then I heard the start of a music video.....


I'm not sure about the rest of the world, but I'm just going to speak for them anyway.
Everybody has that "One song" that fills them with joy and high impact energy. A song in which they go literally berserk to.
My one came on. Feeder- Just a day. Take a moment to listen to it in all its glory.





Now if you didn't take my advice and listen to the song then shame on you.
But the video contains numerous fans of the band singing and dancing to the song, some dramatic, some energetic, some contagious.
I genuinely believe that I should have been a part of this video, with this in mind my body couldn't control itself. I started dancing.

The thing is, you can't just dance to this song, I can't anyway. I run, I jump, I let weird little screams escape my mouth, I become a man possessed.





The three minute song was essentially three minutes of ecstasy, bad dancing and jumping on furniture. The guitar solo had come to an end and was steadily building up for the climatic final chorus. Sadly, I had a plan in my head on how to coincide this with my dancing.

The layout of my granddads house is as follows.

The kitchen, leads to a long hallway which leads you to the living room, there's no door, just an archway. If I timed my jump right this would happen.







This was my master plan. My grand finale, I'm sure if there was an actual audience they'd be on their feet in admiration for me, hell there'd be pictures of me on everyone's wall. I'd be the coolest guy around. I ran into the kitchen, and guzzled the remaining bottle of coke, there was no time to pour a glass like a civil man, I had to gung ho it.


The drum beat increased in tempo, the excitement streaming through my veins, adrenaline and coke pumping through my body with every beat of my heart. Operation sofa jump was in full motion, I sprinted full speed down the hallway, probably beating some sort of hallway running record.

I broke the speed record, now for the high jump record, I saw the sofa... My landing pad, my feet left the ground, Superman and the Flash didn't have shit on me. I was invincible.

Now, here's something I didn't anticipate.

My jumping.

The problem here was.... I was too excited, thus I jumped, really, really fucking high. On top of this I jumped far too late, and the door frame was really fucking low. A recipe for disaster you say? And a concussion.

Unsurprisingly I jumped too high, too late and too powerfully. In a matter of moments my head collided, nay, crashed into the door frame at full speed. The force alone sent my entire body flying backwards onto the hallway floor. It would probably be visually impressive to witness. It was as if I had been rugby tackled by a giant ghost.



Some time later I woke up on the cold hallway floor with a thumping headache, the song on the T.V was now completely different, and I had at least four new conversations on MSN. It was obvious what had happened.

I had knocked myself out dancing to a Feeder song. It was probably that moment right there in which I'd have to reevaluate my life. I still have a small dent on the right side of my forehead from the whole ugly affair.

On top of that I'm pretty sure I was late for swimming.

And I had a headache for like, three days.

I still listen to Feeder begrudgingly.

I still dance to them like a moron.

I learn nothing.

Much Love!

Danzo

Here, I'm being one of those social network dicks.





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