Inspired by The Hands of Hubski, at thenewgreen's suggestion, here is the place to display the Scars of Hubski.
Let's see em people. And we want the stories!
When I was 11 or so, we were playing down near the pond. I found a big piece of a broken bottle and thought "oh man - this is flat and smooth like a good skipping stone! I bet it will go so far! I better be careful not to cut myself"
I'm not so bright.
Kinda hard to see since I'm so pale but that's a 5'' scar on my left bicep. Tweaker roommate gave me that with a butcher knife. Sliced it to the muscle. I don't do roommates anymore.
Holy shit. There's more to that story. How did you end up with this roommate? What led to the altercation?
He was an old friend from high school. I knew he was weird going in but we'd already signed the lease when I noticed his Adderall habit. He popped at least three a day. He hardly ever slept and he didn't have a job thanks to his wealthy family. Big red flags. Not much to the story really. Worthless bastard couldn't even take out the trash let alone pay his share of the rent after spending all of daddy's money on uppers, so I told him to get lost and he snapped on me. He later said he just meant to scare me and he didn't think the knife was that sharp. I kicked him in the balls and drove myself to get stitches. Should of thrown him in jail but I settled with his parents for my bills, a year's lease and then some. Sorry fuck probably still lives in their basement.
I have a scar next to my left eyebrow, right near my temple. It looks like I got punched hard enough to split the skin. If I'm ever asked about it, I tell people I got it in Iraq, which is true. I don't elaborate on it more because it's embarrassing. If I'm really pressed I just say I passed out from exhaustion and hit my head on something. In truth, my roommate and I were in our room in Iraq during some down time huffing dust off. The sound of people huffing dust off (we had a lot of it to simplify some weapon cleaning) was pretty common to hear - we lived in an abandoned sports gym/community center in the middle of Baghdad and just built our own walls and beds in the largest hall. So, we'd gotten a few good huffs in and decided we were going to take a monster one. So we did, and we both passed out. Someone walked by our room and saw me on the ground with a little puddle of blood growing around my head. Our lame "suicide training" kicked in and this person flipped the fuck out, ran to the medics screaming that I had killed myself. A big rush of leadership and medics ensued, and they found me, bleeding, on the floor and my roommate passed out in his chair. We started to come to, and the tension lessened. They thought we had just fought and knocked each other out - not a big deal. Luckily I'd had to foresight to place the dust off can in a little spot in the desk we made before passing out. I guess when I did pass out, I fell forward and hit my head on the corner of the desk we made and it split a 2 inch gash into my head. So, I got stitched up and they asked me a ton of questions. I just said I couldn't remember, my roommate said the same. I ended up getting "diagnosed with mild traumatic brain injury" by the VA.
What is huffing dust? I've never done it, is it similar to nitrous? That is a pretty crazy story, do you think they knew what had really occurred? Thanks for sharing
Dust Off, the keyboard air cleaner. They have a bitterant in the majority of it now because it was starting to become really common, a few people died from it, etc. I can't speak to its similarity to nitrous, though. I'm sure some of them had suspicions. Probably why they made me go on patrol the next day to sweat into the cut as punishment.
I have many, many scars. Most are from adventuring and stupidity, some from altercations, but the most interesting, that I won't include photos of, is on my balls. See boys and girls, what you probably don't know is that if you're a male, and you get the mumps, you lay the fuck down for the entire time. This is because, apparently, the disease causes problems in your testicles if you are standing. Namely, swelling them to the size of grapefruit. Now, this is all well and good, as an aged veteran of being alive, that if your balls are at risk, you do what you can to help them out. The problem is, when you get the mumps as a five year old, laying down for two weeks isn't really feasible, especially while both your parents work full time, and even more when the doctors are incompetent and don't know that you have the mumps. This five year old with two grapefruit between his legs of course leads to an immediate doctor visit, which leads to a testicular ultrasound, which leads to a surgery. And that, kids, is how I ended up with only one testicle and a nice scar. The end. Sleep tight.
This recollection elicited images in my mind that frankly I wish I could erase. True story, I knew a guy in high school that had only one testicle. His name, I shit you not, was Abel.
When I was 19 I was at a party. I had, like everyone else there, a 40 ounce of Malt Liquor. We used to walk around and take our 40 and tap someone else's 40 on top so that it would foam out. It was a joke we played on one another for some reason. My friend Tim did this to my 40. We all were under the impression that if you stuck your finger in your 40 it would stop the foaming. I did this and pulled it out quickly, not realizing that the top of my 40 had cracked when he tapped it. My finger started bleeding immediately, it would do so all night long. Tim, like a champ gave me his 40. I continued to party all night long with my hand wrapped in a T-shirt garnering sympathy from the girls and eating it up.
http://imgur.com/M8zxN4P Sculpture tipped over on my head while I was welding it. I have a lot of art/power tool scars