for me, my favorite has always and will always be the scar on my right foot from the time I got a peanut stuck inside my foot when I was 6....besides I'm the only person I know whose gotten a food related injury that wasn't anaphylactic shock or food poisoning
|
An old girlfriend had a thing for knives. One morning I woke up with a knife to my throat, I got scared starting to try to wrestle the knife away from her and she stabbed me in the leg. I asked her why she did that, and she said it turned her on. I broke up with her immediately *After securing the knife away from her*.
An old girlfriend had a thing for knives. One morning I woke up with a knife to my throat, I got scared starting to try to wrestle the knife away from her and she stabbed me in the leg. I asked her why she did that, and she said it turned her on. I broke up with her immediately *After securing the knife away from her*.
wow...I am actually speechless
|
|
I don't have a lot of scars, but one that stands out is the one running down the side of my left calf.
When I was a kid, my next door neighbor's dad had built him a play fort out of the cheapest, crappiest lumber he could find. This included a ramshackle ladder built from wood-scaps.
One day, as I was climbing the ladder, one of the rungs gave way from under me and the protruding nail that was holding the rung sliced open the side of my calf.
It certainly fixed in my mind that I would never compromise my own's children's safety because of stinginess or laziness.
Director of Game Development
|
I have this weird little twisted indentation in the middle of my stomach. Almost like a concave knot of flesh. It's been there as long as I can remember and I'm pretty partial to it.
EDIT: This just in...A reliable source just informed me that this 'scar' is my belly button.
|
A. A white patch on the underside of my left wrist - where I tripped and spilled hot pasta on my arm and cooked the flesh through to the inside until it lost all pigmentation.
B. four warty dots in a straight line above my thumb and forefinger where I cracked the seal on a steam cooker and the steam cut a line across the flesh.
C. A knife scar on a finger on my right hand from cutting Tomatoes.
Cant say which is my favourite though. Maybe (A) the Pasta burn.
|
|
I have a long scar along the calf of my right leg. Got it from my younger brother, who, at the time, didn't trim his toe nails. He gave me a good kick and split my leg right open.
I've since taken to just telling people who ask about it that I got into a knife fight with a midget (and the midget won).
|
|
All my scars, big and small, seem to come from doing really stupid s*$*. Not potentially life-threatening. Just really, really dumb.
- Circlular, about the size of a pencil eraser, left temple.
I was hammering in nails with the butt-end of a screwdriver, and whacked myself in the face with the pointy part.
- 1.5 inches, chin (has since migrated part-way down my neck)
When I was a kid, I managed to fall out of a chair from a sitting position. I hit the floor face-first, and my jawbone went through my skin.
- .5 inches, right wrist.
I once had a rather nasty run-in with an even nastier housecat.
- Diamond-shaped, about the size of a pencil eraser, right hand
I swept my desk clear with my hands outstretched, and when I brought them back to center, there was a box cutter stuck in one of them.
- 1 inch, exact center of chest.
I was working at Scout camp, and we had to move a bunch of 3" sections of 2" diameter tree trunk into the bed of a pickup. I grabbed my end, and the other guy jumped up on the tailgate. He dropped the log, and it came down on my chest. Needless to say, it hurt.
- Circular, about the size of a silver dollar, left wrist.
I wore an aluminum-backed watch for a week straight while camping, and when I took off my watch, a watch-sized patch of skin came with it. And that's how I found out about my metal allergy.
- 2 incheswide , amorphous, left wrist, partially overlapping previously mentioned scar.
A couple of friends and I attempted to steal a go-kart in the middle of the night. When the vehicle's owner discovered us, we bolted. I pitched over an embankment and landed on a pile of rocks.
- 3.5 inches long, .5 inches wide, right forearm.
While volunteering in the Elks Club kitchen, I failed to realize that the double doors on the oven were rigged to close at the same time, and I shut my arm in the oven. The old folks got a little extra human skin in their roast that night.
That's all for me, but my girlfriend has a nice eight inch by eight inch discolored patch on her back from when she was pushed out of a moving car.
I don't have a scar per se but when I was younger my nose was broken in a fight. If I close my right eye and gently apply pressure to the corner of that eye it makes this disgustingly loud squishing noise. Kinda cool circus trick.
RPG Superstar 2011 Top 32
|
Left side of my face, between the cheek and nose, almost imperceptible.
I was a young boy of about 6, and went to hug my next door neighbor's dog goodbye for the night. It was eating at the time, and nearly tore my cheek off.
I wobbled home, came into the kitchen, and my mom dropped the dinner she was making and started screaming. Apparently, I had a huge bloody flap of skin hanging off my face. Thankfully, my mom is a nurse, so she put some ice on it and held the flap closed. She rushed me to the hospital, and called a plastic surgeon in to sew up my face.
Best part is that school pictures were about 1 week later, and my face is all swollen and I have a nasty, crusty black eye in my school pictures for that year.
Amazingly, that's the one childhood year that mom chooses not to display throughout the house. ;)
All my scars, big and small, seem to come from doing really stupid s@!~. Not potentially life-threatening. Just really, really dumb.
- Circlular, about the size of a pencil eraser, left temple.
I was hammering in nails with the b&#!-end of a screwdriver, and whacked myself in the face with the pointy part.- 1.5 inches, chin (has since migrated part-way down my neck)
When I was a kid, I managed to fall out of a chair from a sitting position. I hit the floor face-first, and my jawbone went through my skin.- .5 inches, right wrist.
I once had a rather nasty run-in with an even nastier housecat.- Diamond-shaped, about the size of a pencil eraser, right hand
I swept my desk clear with my hands outstretched, and when I brought them back to center, there was a box cutter stuck in one of them.- 1 inch, exact center of chest.
I was working at Scout camp, and we had to move a bunch of 3" sections of 2" diameter tree trunk into the bed of a pickup. I grabbed my end, and the other guy jumped up on the tailgate. He dropped the log, and it came down on my chest. Needless to say, it hurt.- Circular, about the size of a silver dollar, left wrist.
I wore an aluminum-backed watch for a week straight while camping, and when I took off my watch, a watch-sized patch of skin came with it. And that's how I found out about my metal allergy.- 2 incheswide , amorphous, left wrist, partially overlapping previously mentioned scar.
A couple of friends and I attempted to steal a go-kart in the middle of the night. When the vehicle's owner discovered us, we bolted. I pitched over an embankment and landed on a pile of rocks.- 3.5 inches long, .5 inches wide, right forearm.
While volunteering in the Elks Club kitchen, I failed to realize that the double doors on the oven were rigged to close at the same time, and I shut my arm in the oven. The old folks got a little extra human skin in their roast that night.That's all for me, but my girlfriend has a nice eight inch by eight inch discolored...
!....can I call you danger-prone dave?
|
|
My favorite is also my first - right across the lower palm of my right hand, at the juncture of palm, thumb, and wrist. I accidently sliced my hand open with a steak knife when I was about 5 years old. This was back in the 70's before we had fancy playsets. I had to try and make my own using a shoebox.
Three-inch long scar, about a quarter of an inch wide on my right leg. Walked into a broken milk crate when moving stuff around in my apartment. While it has long since healed up, there's still a dent in my leg from it.
I have a few others, but this is the one that reminds me of how much of a klutz I can be.
|
Light vertical scar on the right side of my upper lip.
Shaving accident, but no one has to know that.
An old girlfriend had a thing for knives. One morning I woke up with a knife to my throat, I got scared starting to try to wrestle the knife away from her and she stabbed me in the leg. I asked her why she did that, and she said it turned her on. I broke up with her immediately *After securing the knife away from her*.
Except her. She, I would let know the truth right off the bat.
If my sidewalk=laying accident actually leaves a permanent scar, the one on the palm of my right hand might become my favorite. It has this insane reptilian eye complete with pupil thing going on. I'm fairly sure everything but the pupil is going to vanish entirely though.
|
I've only got a few that aren't small (every job I work at seems to be full of small, sharp things that cover my hands in tiny scars, and, like, Mr. Shiny, I'm a total klutz), and they're all pretty funny. I'll go in chronological order:
Right calf, near the knee on the inside...um, side; about 2 1/2 inches in length. When I was nine or so, my bed apparently had a busted spring that was just waiting for the right application of pressure to come jutting out. I did just that one morning crawling out of bed. I didn't notice until I found all the blood a few seconds later. It didn't hurt at all, but was spouting blood all over, so I went into the bathroom, cleaned it up, slapped a big Band-Aid on it, and forgot about it for a while.
Chin; half-inch-long scar. I was closing up at work, and we had a fold-up wicker table to take down. The table, in the process of folding up, came flying into my chin. That spot, to this day, still refuses to grow hair, thus making every attempt at beard growth look like I'm trying out some split-beard thing.
Head of penis. I'm serious. When smoking in the back seat of a car, be careful as to where the cherry of your cigarette goes if it should fly off, lest it land in your lap, burn through your pants and boxers, and give you a mighty-fine "HELLO!" several seconds later as it scalds an area covered in nerve endings.
Left arm, just below the wrist; curved scar 1 inch in diameter. Christmas day, last year, my dogs re-found an old rawhide bone. One of them was being a bone-hog, and the other was getting antsy. So I took the bone from one dog and handed it to the antsy one, who just dropped it in the snow. When the other dog reclaimed it, they got into a brutal fight, which I had to break up. It wasn't until I took the dogs inside to treat one of them for shock (she's a total pansy in a dog-fight) that I noticed the series of puncture marks on my arm; apparently, the antsy dog accidentally bit me in the scuffle.
Left arm, three inches below elbow; strange perma-bruise discoloration spot; right shin, three-inch long perma-bruise/scar. Those of you who I have as friends on Facebook might remember this one as "the Woundening." The scene: ten p.m., after work. I was getting a ride home from a co-worker, when I realized I'd left my smokes at the gazebo outside of work. So I charge across the street to go get them, not seeing the restraining lines counter-balancing the power line pole next to the street. I jump the curb, as I am wont to do, and become aware of two dull gray-colored cables that I am approaching at a decent speed while midair. These cables were kind enough to catch me in exchange for some of my flesh and blood, and some nasty bone-deep bruises. Oh, and in the incident, I dropped my bag with a nice bottle of wine and my OTHER pack of smokes, thus ruining both. On the plus side, the time off of work allowed me to finish up the initial sets of paper minis we now enjoy today, so that's good. I also got my birthday off of work. So, y'know, half-bad, half-good.
Those are the ones I remember. There may be more.
I have a looong history with scars. As a matter of fact, I don't think I have ever met anyone who has had more stitches in their lives than I have (admittedly, it's not a topic you usually get into with casual acquaintances). My best scar is unfortunately not usually visible, as it is hidden by my beard. When I was in college I fell off a ledge and into a window well. Not drunk - totally sober - just dumb. I fell about twenty feet onto concrete and took the entire impact on the point of my chin. It fractured my mandible on both sides, most of my teeth, and absolutely shattered my jaw at the point of impact. The doctor told me it was incredible I didn't break my neck. I was also lucky that a buddy was with me, so he could help me up out of the window well. I walked to the hospital, about a mile (shock is actually your friend in situations like this - I didn't feel any pain at all until I was in the ER). A nurse told me the next day that I walked right up to the front desk, white as a sheet, with blood and tiny bits of bone dribbling out of my beard. Freaked her the hell out, apparently!
I now have a 5-cm piece of surgical steel on my jawbone, which is also the site of my most impressive scar - 33 stitches on that one! Had to have my jaw wired shut for about six weeks, which regrettably included Thanksgiving. Turkey and gravy through a straw just isn't the same, I can tell you.
My second-best scar is also, unfortunately, not immediately visible. Ten stitches, right on the top of my head, when as a child I was accidentally hit on the noggin by a six-inch metal Star Destroyer when my mother was cleaning a shelf of my toys. My dad loves to tell this story, because my response to the doctor when asked what happened was: "Mom didn't mean it. I don't want to talk about it."
I don't know that I have favorites really. My most disgusting scar is far-and-away the long nasty c-section scar across my belly. It healed kinda weird. Might have had something to do with the mild allergic reaction I was having to the staples. Six years later, and I still don't like to look at it.
My most noticed scar is the anchor shaped one on my right index finger. I was trying to tie up the dog when I was thirteen (? Not really sure about the exact age, but it was somewhere in that general vicinity) and my finger got caught in the chain. I got it stitched up and all, but they weren't really paying attention when they bandaged it and bandaged my finger in a slightly bent position, so I can no longer fully straighten that finger.
|
|
Ok, I've got a nice scar on my left middle finger-both sides. Three stitches on the top and two on the bottom.
The cause- extreme stupidity and slight hilarity.
Happened in college. My friend and I were hanging out in our "Household"'s room after a prayer meeting. There were balloons, and he had a pocket knife. What could be more fun than him stabbing the balloons after I tossed them in the air? About the third balloon toss, the balloon didn't go as high as I wanted, and I went to toss it again as he stabbed.
I pulled my hand back, and he's like "Oh no, I hit you, didn't I." I say yup, let me go into the bathroom and clean this up, maybe get a bandage. I cup my hand and it's just overflowing with blood. I clean it off and realize that it actually went through my finger. When I tell my friend, he almost faints. He tells me we're going to the hospital, and I agree.
I tell my roommate that we're going to the hospital, and he's like "OK" and keeps reading my comic books. An hour later, he's asking people if they know where I am because he apparently wasn't paying attention when I told him. Great roommate, huh? (An even better brother-in-law. No, seriously though, I love the guy.)
|
chin - just under 2 inches in length, currently covered by chin fuzz
When I was 9 years old, my brother and I were at a friend's house. His folks were building a patio, but only had the supports and joists in place. We decided it would be great fun to race from one end to the other by jumping from joist to joist. I paused at one point to regain my balance and stepped on a shoelace. When I went to go again, my foot stopped, but the rest of me went falling, smacking my chin on the corner of a joist. I walked inside, kinda stunned and freaked my friend's mom out because I had blood pouring out from my chin. The injury didn't hurt until they started putting stitches in (12 sub-dermal and another 20 some odd to close it up). Thing is, I still walk around without tying my shoes ... I developed an uncanny awareness of where the laces are from that event.
Also, left index finger, very faded about .25 inches
from trying to use a saw the first time ... when I was about 8 or so.
Finally, on my left arm, several almost parallel scars, most faded, between 2 and 4 inches each
I have 5 dogs, some of which love to jump ... and if I don't keep their nails clipped, this is the usual result. They have gotten better over the years (as have I for clipping their nails), but some of these are 6-7 years old.
*points to a scar on chest*
"Mary Ellen Moffat. She broke my heart."
|
|
I have the fingerprints of three fingers from my right hand on the left side of my chest. I spilt hot coffee down myself when I was 18 months old. While people were waiting for an Ambulance, I managed to put my hand on the still hot skin, and some came away with the fingers....I look like I've had a heart opp, but it made learning left from right pretty trivial.
Have a nice one on my leg from almost destroying my mountain bike too, although the bike's scars were more impressive.
Oh, and then there's the one from the little brat who tried to handcuff me to a desk in high school....Never would have though a small 14year old's weight on a pair of handcuffs would break the skin....
|
|
Let's see, I guess favorite would mean the ones I tell people about most often,
Those would be:
1. The scar from the nasty miniature mutt that bit my face when I was 5, right at the browline on my nose.
2. The hole in my eyebrow from my face hitting the dash of my Gramma's P18 Volvo when I was 3. (seatbelts in the 70s? you're kidding right?)
3. the ragged scar on the back of my right hand, I fell down playing football in 6th grade, on this jagged rock...the scar is brutal.
4. the bayonet scar on my right ring finger from a botched double aerial during rifle drills in A-School (Flying Rifle Drill Team - Memphis)
5. Tip of my right finger, lost concentration (turned to answer a question) while using a rotary slicer, no, they didn't have the chain mail gloves for them in 1988. (yes I was underage and should have sued like the kid that did it 3 weeks later and got $1500 bucks.)
6. nasty scar on my right forearm from falling on a rain gutter that was on the ground when my mom and ste-dad were installing them...(stupid kids running around dangerous objects) age 7.
though I have had major burns in my life, none have scarred...including me vs. soldering iron, and my hand versus stove when I was 5. (yes it was red hot, yes it was 2nd and 3rd degree burns, in a spiral on my hand, didn't scar)
those are in order...so number 1 is my fave.
Can't top N'wah's cigarette horror story but I've got a few scars too which do little to shatter the idiot Scot stereotype...
Left hand index finger - scar from where I stupidly was handed a rig knife to see how sharp it was. This I did by dragging the blade across my finger tip - cue impressive bleeding display.
Both Thighs - as a kid we were all running through this forest area, eager to be first [or some other dumb reason] I decide to take a shortcut down the steep hillside rather than stick to the path. Charge straight into and through major thorn bushes, momentum can't slow as everythings frikken jabby. I was wearing shorts... I still remember when the adrenaline wore off. [sigh]
As a footnote to this one - my "friends" convined me the copious cuts and slashes would be best treated by a bath of disinfectant... I dutifully obliged. The screams could be heard for miles around.
Left Eyebrow - got into a drunken brawl as a youth... got keyed for my troubles.
Chin - covered by my beard now, but have an inch long scar on my chin... have no idea how I got it, nor does anyone else... weird.
|
|
Can't top N'wah's cigarette horror story but I've got a few scars too which do little to shatter the idiot Scot stereotype...
Left hand index finger - scar from where I stupidly was handed a rig knife to see how sharp it was. This I did by dragging the blade across my finger tip - cue impressive bleeding display.
I've done that before with various cutting implements so many times that I can't even remember the exact number. Never got any scars from it, though.
Nice avatar name, by the way.
Other interesting cuts that didn't scar:
- Once, while squirrel hunting, I jumped over a log and took a pricker bush square in the junk. It bled a lot, but didn't have any other adverse effects.
- At the tender age of seven, I had just gotten my first Cub Scout knife (the beginning of a long and perverse relationship with all things pointy and shiny). Ten minutes later, I managed to bury the two-inch blade up to the hilt in my leg. It hurt like a bastard, but the actual surface cut was only about a quarter of an inch long.
- A word to the wise: never attempt to shave your own head with a straight razor and no soap. I tried it, and ended up with a shallow three-inch gash along the crown of my head. For some reason, it healed completely, with no scar, in about a week.
- I was moving furniture around, and was in the process of wrapping a large mirror in plastic, when I sliced my right index finger open from the first to third knuckle on a piece of glass. I probably should have gotten stitches, but I just wrapped it up in duct tape. No scar from it, either.
|
|
Can't top N'wah's cigarette horror story but I've got a few scars too which do little to shatter the idiot Scot stereotype...
If it makes you feel better, mine is trumped by not one, but TWO friends of mine splitting open their scrotums. I believe both were bike-related.
Oh, that reminds me: I do have a permanent swollen lower lip from multiple acts of clumsiness as a child and a bike wreck when I was six, and about four or five random scars on my feet from various "why do I keep insisting on not wearing shoes outdoors?" moments. I've also got a couple of compressed discs in my spine thanks to mistaking a low table for a chair when I was five, and a messed-up neck from a car accident when I was four or five, but those are internal and thus not in the running for this contest.
Didn't know being Scottish meant one was a klutz. That explains a lot on me and my mother's part, actually. I have, no foolin' stumbled across a street and into a stop sign, STONE-COLD SOBER. All of the stories I've told were while I was sober, actually. I'm a magnet for sober injury.
I've taken a couple of hits to the lip over time. A small(ish) one was when I was pulling apart a wooden crate with a crowbar. A piece of wood flew up and into my lip (four stitches, small scar). Then a different time I smacked my face into something and almost completely severed my lip in half (seven stitches, but the scar is less visible since most of the damage was on the inside of my mouth). That one took about ten years to really properly heal to the point where I can mostly no longer feel a thick vertical ridge of flesh (scar tissue) inside my lip. My girlfriend told me that it was interesting kissing me because of it.
Oh yeah, and almost all of my best injuries have also been stone-cold sober. Wonder why that is?
|
|
This topic is... interesting! o_O
My favourite scar is on my right hand which is the result of severing a tendon in my thumb on a tuna fish can! The scar is massive (a zig-zag of about 10 cm) due to the operation which I was awake during: My hand was numbed, cut open and I could see the tendons inside my hand move as I was asked to move my fingers (a la Terminator)! 'Twas great!!
My favourite scar on my wife is on her lower belly were our son came out via C-section. :)
Cheers! :D
Nice avatar name, by the way.
Cheers [Joe Abercrombie fan perchance?] - nice deity you worship there too amigo
- A word to the wise: never attempt to shave your own head with a straight razor and no soap. I tried it, and ended up with a shallow three-inch gash along the crown of my head. For some reason, it healed completely, with no scar, in about a week.
Yeah a mate of mine dry shaved in a mohawk with a bic razor many moons ago... looked like someone had put his head through a food processor. Not a good look - well not until the gouges healed over!
You got some serious healing factor going on to avoid scars dude, and N'Wah... based on your catalogue of injuries you gotta be cursed or something my friend - some bad juju going on there!
Can't top N'wah's cigarette horror story but I've got a few scars too which do little to shatter the idiot Scot stereotype...If it makes you feel better, mine is trumped by not one, but TWO friends of mine splitting open their scrotums. I believe both were bike-related.
Odin's bones it does not... lets try and make this the last scrotum injury on the thread... tales of damage to the old baw bag make even this northman's eyes water...
Didn't know being Scottish meant one was a klutz. That explains a lot on me and my mother's part, actually. I have, no foolin' stumbled across a street and into a stop sign, STONE-COLD SOBER. All of the stories I've told were while I was sober, actually. I'm a magnet for sober injury.
Yeah the klutz stuff normally goes hand in hand with drunkeness to be honest, but I am somewhat the proverbial "bull in a china shop" so if there's stuff to break, knock over or damage... I'm drawn to it [low dex high str = bad combo] :)
|
Contributor, RPG Superstar 2012
|
My embarrassing scars (not quite as bad as others):
I have the number "7" on my forehead, thanks to a combination of pulling an iron down on my head when I was 8 (the scarf I wanted was sitting under the iron), then when I was 28, I hit myself in the head with a racquetball racket.
|
|
3 mm, right eye, 2 mm below the iris. My wife had a nightmare, I woke up and rolled over to see what was the matter. As she was flailing around, I caught the fingernail of her left pinky in the eye. Doctor says if it was just a few mm higher, I'd have permanent damage to my sight. Hurt just as much as you'd think, too.
Can't top N'wah's cigarette horror story but I've got a few scars too which do little to shatter the idiot Scot stereotype...If it makes you feel better, mine is trumped by not one, but TWO friends of mine splitting open their scrotums. I believe both were bike-related.
Oh, that reminds me: I do have a permanent swollen lower lip from multiple acts of clumsiness as a child and a bike wreck when I was six, and about four or five random scars on my feet from various "why do I keep insisting on not wearing shoes outdoors?" moments. I've also got a couple of compressed discs in my spine thanks to mistaking a low table for a chair when I was five, and a messed-up neck from a car accident when I was four or five, but those are internal and thus not in the running for this contest.
Didn't know being Scottish meant one was a klutz. That explains a lot on me and my mother's part, actually. I have, no foolin' stumbled across a street and into a stop sign, STONE-COLD SOBER. All of the stories I've told were while I was sober, actually. I'm a magnet for sober injury.
~laughter~ You are a Scot, man! Scotts canna be sober! Didn't you know that?
~GRINS~ j/k!
|
|
Oh yeah, and almost all of my best injuries have also been stone-cold sober. Wonder why that is?
All of the good ones are. Here's a few non-scar-related pieces of stone-cold-sober idiocy dating back to my high school days (yeah, all of five years ago...)
I used to run on the cross-country team, and at our school, XC seemed to attract all of the misfits (no joke- about half the team played D&D). Two of the team members (let's call them J and M) were dicking around during practice, and due to the fact that 6'5" J wasn't watching where he was going, he smacked the top of his head off of a stop sign. M, laughing his ass off, turned around to watch the carnage, and promptly ran backwards into a telephone pole.
The second story, again, involves cross-country. We were running drills on the track. E and C were in lanes 2 and 4, C being on the inside. About four feet away from lane 4, well in the rough, was a long, wooden bench. Halfway down the track, C does this weird little pirouette in midair, slams shins-first into the bench, and goes down like a sack of potatoes. A few guys went over to help him up, and C, obviously dazed, mumbled "It's okay guys, I think I managed to jump it."
Third, and last, again, comes from cross-country (seeing a pattern here?) W was running in the middle of a single-file line down a sidewalk. Passing a driveway, he did a strange half-turn to the right, took a step, and slammed face-first into a parked car. Not ten minutes later, he tried to do a tuck-and-roll to show off, and absolutely ate pavement. It was hilarious.
The four dot-scars on my head from the Halo I had to wear for 3 months after I broke my neck bodysurfing Sandy Beach, Hawaii. I was in the Marine Corps at the time and was promply nicknamed "robo-jarhead" by my buddies. For that entire 3 month period I was on medical leave though i didn't leave the island (I mean, really, why would you, it's Hawaii for christ's sake) and went to Honolulu to hit the bars many-a-night. all the bouncers got to know me (hard to miss) and let me in for free. In fact, some ex-marine/bouncers at Moose McGillicutty's (totally messing up the spelling, but it has been 15 years!) and I would head out to other clubs when Mooses closed down for the night. It was cool.
I must have watched too many cartoons as a kid (What!?!? nN such thing! Blasphemy, I say!) because, when I was pile driven into the sea-floor by the 8-10 foot wave, I saw cartoon stars and swirls. No kidding! Cartoon stars & swirls & lighting bolts & birds! Weird.
Even after I got the Halo off I was "in" with all the bouncers and got into the clubs for free. Boy, I miss Hawaii.....
|
|
Here's another non-scar, this time from yesterday. No permanent damage, just a really bone-assed move on my part.
Yesterday morning, I was working at job #2, mowing lawns. I basically operate by word of mouth, so I always know the people I mow/clip/chainsaw/dig holes for, and they let me use their stuff. The particular infernal machine I was using was a rather antiquated gas-powered push-mower, and after stalling several times, finally stopped working at all.
I ended up borrowing a neighbor's machine, an equally antiquated model, and finished the job. However, the f&#!ing thing wouldn't shut off. I immediately went to cut the power by pulling the spark plug. Now, before I continue, you must know that these things are usually insulated with a heavy rubber coating, and won't shock you, so pulling the plug, so to speak, is almost always safe.
Unfortunately, in this case, the original spark plug had been replaced with a different one, from a motorcycle. As soon as my right hand touched the plug, there was a bang like a gunshot, and I was on my ass and seeing stars. The really weird part about the whole thing is that the only mark I have to show for it is a little red burn mark on the index finger of my left hand (where the charge exited in what the neighbors said was a rather large spark).
I eventually figured out the problem (after my arms stopped tingling): the shutoff cable was jammed. Duh.
The moral of the story: don't be stupid.
First... how did you get a peanut stuck in your foot?
Second- Scary bit about the woman having the thing for knives.
Now.. for mine...
probably the 1 inch scar on my upper left forearm... now its small, faded, and insignificant, but I remember when it first appeared... raised up, very smooth and purplish red...
and I had no recollection of how it got there... and this had nothing to do with me being drunk or abusing any substance...
prior to mental health and game design I worked in a mining fabrications plant... alot of heavy steel and alot of fire (welding, torching, etc.)... you kinda dull out to the sensation of pain from burns, cuts, and all... I remember seeing it the next day... it was weird... almost like the results of a forgotten alien abduction... however, due to the appearance and nature I figure a piece of a hot cutting torch rod must have broken off and landed on my forearm, causing a raised burn. Don't remember it happening though.