h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I've got a range of scars, mostly burn scars (I'm hopeless with irons, stoves, ovens, microwaves, lighters, matches. Anything that produces heat basically). But there's a few catscratch scars, shaving scars, and a giant bloody great gash on the front of my left shin from where a huge chunk of metal that was sticking out of the front of an arcade game machine got me.

But the one I'm proudest of is about a little less than a centimetre long, right along the edge of the knuckle of my left forefinger.

I was quite w*nkered one evening, and against the advice of my Prince Charming, had stolen his glass of whiskey. This I then downed before he could take it off me, and slammed the glass down (on a tile floor!). Obviously it shattered, but I was okay. So my darling went and got a bag that had some other glass in it, to clean up this new lot. Now I have a habit of flailing when I'm drunk - my hands go everywhere. On this occasion, they went straight into the bag of broken glass. Blood went everywhere. Prince Charming got quite distressed by this, and his concern wasn't assuaged by my reassurances that I wasn't going to die (I don't remember much of this, bear in mind ). So we slapped a bandaid on, and went to bed.

Come the next morning. Hangover city. My hand hurts like hell. I peel off the bandaid. It's nasty. Not nice at all. So it's decided a trip to the doctor is in order. I ended up with only one stitch, but it was still fun.

The lesson here is - don't drink and flail. Friends don't let friends flail.