View allAll Photos Tagged improvisations,
Members of the Botswana Defense Force receive instruction on detecting improvised explosive devices as part of a Counter IED brief during a U.S. Army Africa command sponsored visit to the Joint Multinational Readiness Center in Hohenfels, Germany, Dec. 3, 2015. The visit offered Botswana leadership an opportunity to observe JMTC facilities, as well as explore opportunities for future training and partnership. (U.S. Army photo by Spc. Nathanael Mercado)
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SOOC. Just simple macro shot of an unusual subject, nothing fancy, but I'd say BLACK!!! is a must.
I know most will find this gross and nothing more, but I hope some can find it interesting at the very least.
Well, the story behind this picture (reading this embellished tale is completely optional, of course (I'd actually advise you not to), and not for the faint of heart (haha)):
I was on a road trip, and it was the middle of the night, and I'd already taken my contacts out (I always have a hard time sleeping in the car (we were driving through the night), but I can at least close my eyes and try!) but I needed to get a piece of gum out of my backpack (I'm addicted to it like some people are to cigarettes or caffeine), so I stuck my hand in the front pouch and groped around (literally) blindly. I felt something that felt weird, something that made my finger tingle oddly. So I felt it until I figured out what it was: my uncovered razor, which I had shoved in last minute. So I'd just rubbed my finger against the blade, cutting myself repeatedly (smart, huh?). And it bled a surprising amount. More than I'd expect for a dinky little fingertip cut, and I'm sort of an expert with this kind of thing, through experience (I, unfortunately, am usually injured, often by my own unintentional inflections). I didn't want to splatter (and therefore stain) the seats, so I'd lick the little pool and/or drips of blood away, and then watch them immediately reappear, in the dimly lit car looking like black ink puddles. I did that for a while (I'd always wanted to be a vampire bat, but in the middle of the night I'm not in such a patient mood), astounded that the flow of blood hadn't started slackening off yet (I still have no idea why it bled so much - I mean, it was pretty deep considering it was just a shallow razor cut, and the cut happened to form a sort of hexagon, cutting away a tiny chunk of skin, but still...it's puzzling) until I was finally sick of the salty taste (haha, just as I was about to stop, that Fight Club fact about how many pints of your own blood you can ingest before getting sick popped into my head). I wanted to try to sleep again, but didn't want to drip all over. So I finally asked if anyone had a Bandaid (everyone laughed groggily and made fun of me, amused and puzzled at how I'd managed to hurt myself sitting in a car with no scissors or anything...the jokes only got worse once I told them how I'd done it), but no one did. So I ripped off a strip of paper from my notebook and wrapped it around it, pressing on it so it'd hopefully be good already and scab up. Miraculously I managed to get a little sleep that night, and when I woke up in the morning I was surprised the paper was still on, considering how much twisting and turning I'd done. By all accounts, it should've ripped off within a half hour! But it didn't, and I was impressed as all get out. The next morning we stopped at some restaurant to be breakfast and my Mom made me go switch the improvisation for the more conventional Publix "adhesive strip" - a Bandaid knockoff brand (because my squeamish sister threatened to pass out or hurl...I don't remember which). She'd scrounged it up from the depths of her purse when she'd gained some consciousness in the AM. I tried to rip the paper off, and only the loose edges came off - the part actually touching my skin stuck as if I'd attached it with Gorilla Glue. I went into the bathroom and tried to peel it off with the assistance of water and soap, but it still took me a good amount of time (I'd say about 3 minutes) to scrub it off. I HAD been a little cautious scraping away in the beginning, mostly because I didn't want to tear the scab off and have to start from scratch again, but in the end (I'd forgotten wear the actual cut was, where all the blood had been leaking from) I'd gotten impatient and just used my nail to scour it ALL off (I suppose that's why I'm endowed with more scars than I can count). It started bleeding again, but I just slapped that Bandaid on there (I'd forgotten about the sucker before) and at least tried to get the crusty blood out from under my nails before happily rejoining my family and enjoying some delicious pancakes. I don't usually use Bandaids, but from now on if I even need to, I'm totally going to use my new convenient substitute! But man, does congealed blood work wonderfully as an adhesive! If it weren't totally morbid and disgusting, I'd definitely propose making some sort of super glue out of it....
Haha, such an in-depth explanation for such a trivial experience and simple picture. Looking at it now, almost healed (I'm such a fast healer, and I took this picture about 5 days ago), it's just a weensy little circular dent (about 3 layer of skin deep) with a scab at the center. HAHA, and now you are totally up to date on my little nick, as if you care!
I guess I recorded that whole story is because I like when people write about the day they took the picture, or the incident, or whatever. It makes the picture more interesting, to me at least. (And NOT because something like that is unusual or a big deal for me)
Hope you even slightly enjoying that overly dramatic retelling of a commonplace little offshoot of an event in my life.