Aron Ralston
Aron Lee Ralston (born October 27, 1975) is an American mountaineer, [mechanical engineer]
On April 26, 2003, during a solo descent of Bluejohn Canyon in southeastern Utah, he dislodged a boulder, pinning his right wrist to the side of the canyon wall. After five days, he had to break his forearm, amputate it with a dull pocket knife to break free, make his way through the rest of the canyon, rappel down a 65-foot (20 m) drop, and hike 7 miles (11 km) to safety.[2][3]
And upon his recovery made his way to Hollywood where his best friend killed his dad, who was a goblin research scientist. As an attempt to refresh his brand, he produced and directed a movie called, ‘The Room’.
We now know Aron as Daniel Desario.
Huh? Clearly I missed a memo…
Sometimes a build goes really bad, as if the model was cursed, almost to this level of bad luck:
I hate it when I resort to caveman tactics in order to chop, hack, splat, stomp a part into submission… only to realize (after the fact) there’s a perfectly good tool for that within easy reach on my workbench! 
—mike 
So, I hate it when a tiny part goes twing off my tweezers. Normally, I can find the piece, but every so often it’s just gone. Typically, I’ll box the model to deal with later. The other day, that happened with a Trumpeter trailer. Today I went to empty my workshop trash bin, and had the spark of intuition to search the tiny bits of sprue and rubbish going out… and found the missing part. I consider this a nice victory.
Enjoy it… while you can. 
you need the “Don’t you love it when…” thread.
I’ve had a variation on that – losing the part and spending a couple of hours scratch-building it, installing it, and then coming across hard photo-evidence that it was never there on the version being built.
When the universe is trying to get you …
And not only that one time …
Just a quick task, no need for a apron … and there falls a drip of ca glue on your nearly new jeans.
Your hobby room errors carry over into your garage and a chisel tries to land on your ankle where your X-Acto blade landed years earlier.
Yesterday: Avoided spraying rattle-can outdoors because it was too dang hot — 98°F and climbing!
Today: Only 82°-ish after having my coffee and putzing-around. Things were going okay in-between three coats of Rust-Oleum Black Semi-Gloss. As I was finishing-up and closing the paint lid, a strong gust of wind flipped everything onto the driveway! Miraculously, the block I was painting didn’t land wet side down. … Guess I got lucky! 
…
I know, I know… Enjoy it… while you can. 
—mike
Ah Have seen the carpet monster posts and yeah, I’ve found the wee piece missing then about 30 more from about 10 other kits, somehow shins were not injured, nor the head and the pieces survived the vacuum and the cat The carpet monster giveth and the carpet monster taketh away. lol 
Oh, that, that rises to the level of painful…
Indeed, but a mere flea-bite compared to the following - I’ve shown part of it before in a different context, it’s about the vagaries of diorama photography and specifically - confirmation bias.
I’d invested an awful lot of time in building/painting Trumpy’s BR52, and even more time to make a diorama base for it. When the weather finally allowed, I assembled it all outside and shot what looked through the camera screen like a perfect photo-session of around 20 images.
So, feeling very pleased with myself I reconfigured the diorama with tanks/figures for another photo-session in the afternoon. At the end exhausted, I removed everything indoors, packed it all away and settled down the following day to prep the images on the big screen for publication…
Some might think “so what?” – maybe now I’d agree, but at the time I thought I’d anticipated every possible imperfection & every possible problem, all I had to do was take the damn photos. So in the context of “Don’t you hate it when…” the rest of that sentence is “when I blindly trust myself”.
PS - a couple of years later Mike Koenig kindly and cunningly rescued the final photo from the digital bin…
