I got my haircut the other day and as usual after a haircut now I notice a couple things, first is that short hair makes my fat head look even fatter(damn it!) and second is that I'm slowly running out of hair(nooooo!!!). I'm not sure if I'm really running out of hair, but it's just moving from my head to somewhere else.
Once upon a time that scar used to be behind my hairline, but as time marched on, and my hairline marched off, it's made it's way to the front lines. The scar is the result of an old Cub Camp war wound. I was maybe 9 or 10 and while at a Cub Camp on Kootenay got wacked upside the melon with a stick while we were all running around going nuts. At the time I just thought it hurt a bit and put my hand to my head. When I pulled my hand away I saw that it was covered in blood, I may have gotten a little more concerned about it.
It wasn't a big Cub thing, but a smaller deal just for our pack (or whatever they were called) at our leader's (or whatever he was called) personal cabin on Kootenay Lake which was just down the road from the Kootenay Bay ferry terminal. Luckily for me, he was a doctor, so I got to lie down on the kitchen table and get my head stitched up. After I got my stitches, we all went out down the road to have a look a bear that was out walking around. What, no ice cream?
Too bad I have such a lame story to go along with my scar. I also have a scar on my butt cheek that I got hopping a barbed wire fence, but no picture to go along with that one. You're welcome.
Once upon a time that scar used to be behind my hairline, but as time marched on, and my hairline marched off, it's made it's way to the front lines. The scar is the result of an old Cub Camp war wound. I was maybe 9 or 10 and while at a Cub Camp on Kootenay got wacked upside the melon with a stick while we were all running around going nuts. At the time I just thought it hurt a bit and put my hand to my head. When I pulled my hand away I saw that it was covered in blood, I may have gotten a little more concerned about it.
It wasn't a big Cub thing, but a smaller deal just for our pack (or whatever they were called) at our leader's (or whatever he was called) personal cabin on Kootenay Lake which was just down the road from the Kootenay Bay ferry terminal. Luckily for me, he was a doctor, so I got to lie down on the kitchen table and get my head stitched up. After I got my stitches, we all went out down the road to have a look a bear that was out walking around. What, no ice cream?
Too bad I have such a lame story to go along with my scar. I also have a scar on my butt cheek that I got hopping a barbed wire fence, but no picture to go along with that one. You're welcome.
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