Pickles are the New Goose

So I was assaulted by a jar of pickles yesterday. No, really. I'm still not sure how it happened but as I was leaned all the way down getting something out of the crisper drawer for the kids

I all of the sudden saw little stars and birds floating around. That shit is really true! After the fog cleared and I looked down I realized that I had just been nailed in the back of my head by a 32 oz jar of pickles It had fallen directly on my head from the top shelf. About 3 feet. Exhibit A showing the size of the jar in comparison with a bottle of vicodin

Due to my insane bawling the kids started to freak out which made my skull throb. I just wanted (for the love of all that is holy) for them to be quiet long enough for me to decide if 1) I was going to pass out, and 2) if I were bleeding from the brain. Neither seemed to be the case so I sent Joe (who was in class) a few texts about how I was just clobbered by a pickle jar. In true man form he was all, "Man that sucks" not "Hey do you need me to leave and come home" But whatever.

I managed to survive the rest of the evening with a throbbing headache like none I have ever experienced. Hindsight I probably should have NOT gone to bed but I did at least ask him to poke me a few times in the middle of the night and make sure I was not dead. I stayed home today, still feeling kind of dizzy and just off. Plus I was not quite ready to face my co workers knowing that they would all soon know that on top of geese I also apparently am on the pickles death list

I ended up going to urgent care today because the headache and "weird" feeling that I cant so much describe would not go away. I sat across from the intake girl and when she asked why I was there responded with "I was attacked by a jar of pickles" She stared. I stared. And when she realized that I was not kidding she began making notes

I underwrite health insurance. A perk of this job is getting to read all of the random shit that people tell their doctors. When you tell your Dr that your marriage is in trouble because of your addiction to hookers or that you just cant seem to shake the vaginal itching they write that shit down verbatim. Forever in my medical records it now says "hit on the head by a jar of pickles.

Diagnosis? Concussion. For realz. Treatment? Nada. There is not a thing to be done about concussions other than don't sleep more than 4 hours at a time without being pestered and don't drink. Both which I have already failed to comply with. Don't judge, the wine helps with the headache.

So adding to the list of things I hate with a raging passion (geese, sold out NKOTB cruises and Snookie) I officially add pickles. And yes I forgive you for laughing because truly....who is NOT going to laugh at a chick who gets a concussion from a pickle jar. I would.