But yesterday my brother was shafted. You see, the poster child for anger management himself was playing golf with a couple of buddies, and during a particularly poor round he hit a particularly poor 5 iron on a particularly easy par 3. Turning around in a furor, he axe-chopped the sign marking the hole and the distance. While in this state of heightened reason, he nevertheless failed to foresee that the sign was metal, and that his club would snap in half, whipping downward, lodging the shaft in his leg, and puncturing a vein: leaving the pinhead spurting blood national lampoon style. (UPDATE: it was actually a 6 iron, which makes for a loftier story, but only to a degree)
In short, he was really teed off after teeing off, and lodged his head after he lost his head.
After a trip to the hospital, they deemed him to be iron deficient, and although many stitches were required, a skin graphite was not necessary. He's a little embarrassed about it all, but apparently felt well enough to go clubbing last night.
Dude, sorry I laughed so hard on the phone. Glad you're ok.