Post #60025 by Doctor Z on Fri, Nov 14, 2003 4:44 PM

Back during my "experimenting with illicit substances" days, I worked shipping and receiving at a bookstore. One day I was at home, showing off to some friends my 'technique' of cutting through packing tape by laying it on my leg and cutting it with a dull box knife. Unfortunately, I'd just brought the box knife home and replaced the old blade with a nice, razor-sharp new one and in one quick move, proceeded to slice my right thigh through my jeans and all the way clean to the bone. Being a little "under the influence", I didn't feel any pain and was actually quite intrigued: for a brief moment, I was able to clearly see all the layers of skin, muscle, fat and whatever else like it was an anatomy text book. But then it started to bleed. A lot. (kinda like that Dan Aykroyd-as-Julia Child skit) I should have gone to the doctor, but in that "state" there no way I was going to even leave my room, let alone go to the hospital! Receiving no help from my hysterically laughing friends (apparently copius amounts of blood can be incredibly amusing), I tried my best to patch it up with toilet paper and scotch tape. It left nice 4-inch scar on my leg, and a lot of bloodstains on the carpet, the wall, the couch, my clothes, my friends, some towels...

Oh, and I also have scars above and below my left eye from where my best friend hit me in the face with a beer bottle in 5th grade (broken glass in the eye - NOT fun...)