I've got freakin fiber-glass shardes in my arms. Freaking. Fiber. Glass. (today's misshap brought to you by crazy school-girls incorperated. Watch out, we're everyhere). It all started with a lonely factory just outside of Calledonia, AKA: Georgia Pacific, AKA: My father's place of employment. So, anywhats, My dad went to his work to re-arrange his office, and I said I'd go with him so I could ride the crazy fat-man bikes inside the factory. Bout half an hour after arrival, my dad puts my puppy (who, of coure, had come along for the ride), on top of some dens gold drywall board. My dad reaches on top of the pile to get him down, but my dog backs away from the edge everytime. So I suggest to my father to stand on the flat surface at the back of the bike so he can reach better. Instead, he tells me to do it. So I get up and try to get my dog down, but I'm not tall enough. So my dad does it. Alls well that ends well? Not quite.

A few minutes later, my arms start hurting, so I tell my dad. He asked me what it felt like, and I said like lots of little splinters up and down my arms. Only then does he remember that that particular type of wallboard is coated in fiberglass, and therefore there are millions of little spiky, painful, and incredibly annoying shards just waiting for my arms when I rubbed up against them while trying to get my dog down. why did it only affect me? My dad had a long-sleeve sweater on, while I myself had only a T-shirt. Joy. So, in conclusion, i'm a very pissed person. And although writing this hasn't helped my situation in anyway, at least I wasted a couple minutes of your life.