» My Wanking Disasters

Not the greatest, but it's what I got.
Being an environmentally conscious fellow, after wanking instead of using, say, kleenex, I clean myself off with a large handkerchief I've set aside for the purpose. Said handkerchief will henceforth be known as the "spankerchief". Anyway, since the spankerchief obviously needs to be cleaned on a regular bais, I usually throw it in with my laundry. This particular weekend, however, I was visiting home, and being a starving college student, brought some laundry with me so I wouldn't have to pay for the coin-op.

Later that weekend, my mom decides to help me out a little by doing my laundry for me. Walks into the kitchen, where I'm making a snack, holding the spankerchief and asking what was all over it. Naturally after a good week-and-a-half's use it was rather stiff.

Being quick thinking, I say I've had some rather bad allergies lately, and I've only got the one handkerchief.

Later that weekend she obligingly gives me a few extra handkerchiefs so I don't have to "blow my nose" into one that's been so well used...
(Thu 3rd Jun 2004, 1:13, More)

» Things you've done when you've had no money.

Most useful thing in the world
I wore a pair of trouser until you could see through the fabric. And beyond. One day I squatted down to tie my shoes, and an odd ripping sound was emitted from my posterior region. The fabric was so threadbare is had split down the seam, and there wasn't enough material to sew a patch to anymore.

So I mended it with duct tape.
(Fri 8th Oct 2004, 10:11, More)

» How I Skive Off Work

Zork
I play text-adventures. They're small and don't need installing, so you can fit a couple games and an interpreter onto a floppy disk or USB drive and use it almost anywhere. The sound of intermittent typing won't signal anything is amiss, and if someone actually looks over your shoulder, they just see something resembling a complex command-prompt program. They're also inherently pause-able--no worries about minimizing at a moment's notice and coming back later.
(Tue 3rd May 2005, 10:33, More)

» Missing body parts

Lungs (bits of them anyway)
I used to have a condition, not eaxactly a medical condition itself, but a tendency to develop them--I repeatedly developed Pneumothroax, which is when your lung gets a small hole in it and starts leaking air into your chest cavity, inflating it like a balloon and gradually collapsing your lungs. For a long time we thought it was just bad asthma interspersed with cases of pneumonia (a minor pneumothorax can fix itself over time, feels a lot like pneumonia, and is hard to see on X-rays), but once the doctors cottoned on to what was really happening I got two month-long stays in the hospital while they cut off the top portion of each of my lungs and stapled them shut--the repeated blowouts had weakened the region beyond repair. They also deliberately scarred the surrounded tissue to make my lungs "adhere to the lining of the chest cavity" and resist collapse.

To this day my lung capacity is noticeably smaller than it was before. For a while I couldn't sneeze because I couldn't inhale far enough on the "ah-ah-ah" part to trigger the "choo!" reflex.
(Mon 5th Jun 2006, 22:40, More)

» Scars with history

3.5 stories
In 6th grade, during an after-school model rocket club meeting, someone absent-mindedly set a hot glue gun down...on my hand. As I wasn't looking either, it rested there, tip on my knuckle, for several seconds before the searing heat percolated up into my brain. That was the only time I was ever forgiven for swearing in front of a teacher.

I've also got a scar on the corner of my chin from a time when I fell off my bike at top speed. I slid about 10 feet on concrete, dragging my face the whole way. Thankfully I was wearing a helmet (ALWAYS wear a helmet FFS!) and so the only part of my head that actually contacted was the corner of my chin--which was very neatly ground off flat.

I also have a disturbingly large number of needle scars from an extended hospital stay--you can't leave an IV needle in one spot for more than 2 or 3 days, and I was in for 2 months, so they stuck both my arms up right good. For a while I looked like a recovering heroin addict. This same hospital stay is also responsible for 7 scars about my chest that make it look like Brutus and his gang practiced Ceasar's assasination on me.

Although not really a scar, I did burn the fingerprints off my left hand once, by trying to clean a stove right after it had been used. I picked up the spider to wipe under it and OH SHIIII.... If you're planning a life of crime, just wear gloves--the pain isn't worth it.
(Mon 7th Feb 2005, 1:41, More)