I wish I could claim that I was a spacker.
Oh god.

When I was 8, I had a shitload of those Polly Pocket toys. For those of you who don't know, these are little plastic doll houses/cases that would fold open and present a bunch of choking hazards. Some of these were elaborate enough that they had little lights inside.

One day I was wondering the old thing about whether the light in the fridge is on when it's closed - just about one of these Polly Pocket toys. I thought about it for a while, and decided that the best way to find out would be to somehow be able to see inside it while it was closed. I thought about it a while more, and decided that the best thing to do would be to close the thing on my tongue. I mean, then my tongue would be inside it, right?

Fun fact about Polly Pockets: they have this clasp so that they close with the grip of death. My tongue was IN the clasp, and I couldn't get it open without hurting myself more. Sweet jesus, you don't know pain.

I didn't tell anyone about this incident until I was 18.


I also got my lip pierced a few months back, which my dad considered to be the stupidest thing I ever did to myself. When he first saw it, he stared for a while with that "whatever floats your boat" look. He didn't say anything until a few days later at dinner.
Him: "do you have a napkin?"
Me: "yeah"
Him: "Good, 'cause you got something on your lip"
(Exempt OH WOW, VICODIN, Thu 20 Dec 2007, 19:19, 1 reply)

I can imagine
that having your tongue stuck in the clasp would be roughly similar to getting one's foreskin caught in one's trouser fly.

In order to release it, you have to endure more pain. It is not pleasant. Nor dignified.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Fri 21 Dec 2007, 8:49, closed)