First Blood

(Sorry, this one's been a real bitch on skates to get together, and I lost a couple days to hydrostatic shock or something.)

Well it looks like we been headed this way for a while now.
3 months into my new job with a daily 90 minute round trip commute on the bike through some pretty hairy traffic, it was, one supposes, just a matter of time.
Earlier in the week, as I was headed out of the parking garage after work, I stopped at the (totally blind) exit as there was a stupid fuckin Escape coming through the intersection. Sure enough, this dizzy broad behind me, going way too fast AND not paying any attention to her surroundings, plows right into my leg.
Followed by, of course, the obligatory "Solly, solly, solly." To which I replied as I usually do, "You certainly are."
Anyways, no harm done, except for a big tire mark up the leg of me khakis, but I kind of hated them khakis anyways.
Which brings us to last Thursday morning.
First up, I wake up at, you know, the regular time, 20 minutes or so before the alarm, and the weirdest thing, my left baby finger is fuckin KILLING me, for some totally bizarre reason. After a few minutes, it was OK. Strange.
So I'm on my way to work and this dopey fuckin woman turns into a parking lot driveway at the University on Keelung there, just before Roosevelt, and doesn't see me in the right lane.
BAM.
So I goes down.
A real cool cop showed up at the scene and informed her in no uncertain terms that she was 100% at fault, her nonstop fervent bleatings to the contrary.
Boy did SHE change her tune, suddenly she's scrambling to bring me tissues to clean up the blood that's all over the place, and insists on driving me to the hospital and back and bucking up for the ER bill, and apologizing all over the fuckin place.
She was, of course, shit scared that I was going to gank her for 20 or 30K for pain and suffering etc.
Which, of course, I didn't.
Final damages, not bad.
The Batmobile, unscathed, miraculously.
Creepy Bit #1:
My little finger on my left hand was hacked up pretty good, right where it hurt when I woke up.
I guess I totaled her side mirror with my left arm, which took a handful of stitches after they picked out the glass.
Me poor arm, that night:

And a couple of major goose eggs on my upper shins, where the bike came down on them.
But fuck me, she totally stoved in me Che Guevera ciggie box, for fuck's sakes.

I was off work that day, and Friday too, still feeling kinda shock-y and shit, all with my fantastic new boss's blessing.
Creepy Bit #2:
Just as I'm getting up onto the operating table in the ER, I get a text, now this is still only like 0830 or so, from fuckin HC, half the fuckin island away, with whom I haven't spoken for weeks, saying "Are you OK?".

Another one of those fucked up psychic episodes she gets.

For fuck's sakes.

Anyways, we all lived through it.

I realized a couple of days later that my paw would have been way more messed up were it not for the now bloodied (Pirated) Oakley Super Tac gloves, Jah love 'em.

And the Batmobile got blooded, so that's good.
I can't trust no vehicle I ain't bled on.
So, aside from my DNA getting spread over half of fuckin Gong Guan, you know, all ended up  pretty good.

Let's get back to work.

On that note,