Walkin' on, Walkin' on broken glass!

Just an FYI to everyone, coming to the POC is dangerous.
Shattered glass happens regularly, usually on someone's person. Corrie learned that via a gash in her foot. The rest of the roomies have been a little more lucky to be exempt from the slashy, bleedy kind of education. Michael almost had the worst kind of education via a broken glass measuring cup in his lap, which Tonya had to hoover up while I helped him pick slivers out of his palms. Yeah, THAT was about twenty different kinds of awkward.
But shattered glass and band-aid cuts fail to hold a candle to the epic legend of Laura and the Juiced Fingers.
That's right. Laura juiced her fingers.
It all started one night while Lisa and I were winding down after a long day of work, and Laura was winding up for a long night of child-healing. She was about to leave for her shift, when she uttered the fateful words, "You know, I think I want some grapefruit juice."
Now, two items in her defense: Number one is that the juicer we have has always looked kind of evil to me. Sometimes it laughs in that strange Mephistophilic voice, and every now and again I'll swear two glowing red eyes wink at me from the counterspace it has occupied since the dawn of time. Also, I think it reads Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't tell me any wholesome creature makes a habit of reading that rag.
The second item is that she was actually trying to hold the blade guard on when it happened.
I'll also say this for Laura, she may be a sonorous firecracker at all other times, but when she is in pain and bleeding profusely on the kitchen floor, two of her friends, the dog, and most of the food, she is silent as the grave. Truly, it was eerie how quietly it all happened. All I heard was the juicer sticking slightly. Laura clutched her hand to her chest and ran for the sink. Lisa and I looked at each other, and I think at that point we both realized that this was NOT going to be a "stay in and eat bonbons" kind of night.
In reply to our urgent inquiries to her wellbeing (that, considering the squirting blood were really kind of frivolous) Laura produced the last two digits of her left hand. They were still attached, but both fingers from the end joint up were more or less ground chuck. And they were kind of....droopy.
At that point I think I said something along the lines of, "Hokey dokey, time to give 9-11 a little ring..." I was halfway joking, but really all I could think was, "Holy crap that's a lot of blood..."
Lisa found paper towels, we loaded Laura into the car, and I took off for the ER.
About ten seconds later, I pulled back into the driveway to run in and ask Lisa where the nearest ER was.
I would rather not describe my driving on the way there. Some things are best left to the imagination. A fiery car-chase would probably not be too far away from reality.
Luckily, they had a good staff there along with a VERY attractive doctor. He was totally into me. Anyway, poor Lisa could only stand it for about twenty minutes before she came to join us at the hospital. The X-Rays showed that the end digits on her ring and pinky finger had basically been finely ground into pesto sauce. Fortunately, there was a plastic surgeon on hand (hurr hurr, that was a funny punny). While he stitched up her fingers, I argued with him that Star Trek: The Next Generation was CLEARLY superior to the Original Series with Kirk and Spock. All three of us debated relative merits of the new Star Trek Movie. Laura kept asking for more lidocaine, Lisa tried to get me to let the surgeon focus, and Tonya kept desperately trying to reach someone via phone to find out HOW IN THE WORLD her juicer had killed Laura.
With a ridiculously large bandage and splint on each damaged finger, Laura allowed Lisa to tow her home. After a long and somewhat uncomfortable errand to CVS to obtain Laura's pain medication, I likewise headed in that direction. There I found all the POCers, minus Corrie who didn't exist yet, waiting with obscene amounts of food. Thanks, Mama Claire, for invoking the age-old female law: When in doubt, apply food to the wound.
To wrap up the story, Laura's fingers are now awesome. Although I believe the ring finger is still minus a fingernail, it's hard to really tell.
And we have this AWESOME blog! Let it serve as fair warning to all...don't trust sharp or breakable edges in this house. Especially not those that move of their own free will and read Cosmo.