Last night we were mooching around in front of the TV - Korben the Wonder Dog was curled up at our feet, and Jake the Pirate Kitty of Doom was purring on my lap (Elwood the Evil Genius Kitty was off plotting somewhere, of course)...it was all very domestic and cozy. Then Ben made a sudden move that startled the dog, who terrified the cat, who decided the quickest way to safety would be through my face. If you go through this in the future, let me assure you: you can get the bleeding to stop. Eventually. With half a bag of cotton balls and possibly the intervention of trained professionals.
Later that evening I was curled up in bed, cozily awaiting sleep, when Ben decided that the best way to "help" the cat onto the bed would be to pick it up and fling it wildly toward my pillow. Cats aren't fond of being flung wildly, as my nose now bears evidence. (Honestly - who throws a cat? Five of their six ends are pointy!)
And now for the hideous proof of my disfigurement...although first I'd like to mention that these photos were taken first thing the next morning, so I'm not wearing makeup and have a raging case of bed head. Just thought I should warn you in case there are any small children in the audience.
I know you're mocking me now for making such a big deal out of two little scratches, but I swear it looks worse in person than it does in the photos - the little torn edges and surrounding bruising don't show up very well here, and they also don't show how deep those "little scratches" actually are (with the cut over my lip, the cat basically stuck its claw all the way into my face and then rotated). I did try to take some closeup photos, but then you could see my enormous unwashed pores, plus evidence that I haven't attended to my lady 'stache in months. And you don't deserve that kind of treatment.
So I'm feeling very sorry for myself today. Sympathetic nodding and donations of ice cream would be appreciated, thanks.