Military College Blood Drives
As far too many of you know (because I seem to ALWAYS post about my time there or in the Marines) I went to a military college. My screename should be a giveaway...

Anyway, we had frequent blood drives. FREQUENT. And the company that donates the most blood would win themselves an overnight weekend (we didnt get overnights much). So we pressured our Freshmen (also known as Knobs) to donate...as often as they could get away with it.

So, as a Knob (no jokes please) I donated twice. I donated first with my right arm and when I went back, about 3o minutes after the first donation, I returned and advised the nurse who was to take the blood from me that I had "issues with the veins in my right arm" and she said "Okay Hon, whatever you need."

She punctured my left arm. I was chuffed. Two pints! That's GOTTA get me respect in the battalion! So one of the particularly twisted aspects of all this is that between companies (I was a Bravo Company Knob) we competed against one another on the first one to fill the donation bag. Squeezing your fist and flexing, does expedite the bag filling process...

So I am racing one of my classmates, but from another company: Kilo Company in this instance, and I race AND beat him to the finish! I filled my donation bag before he did! OOOH RAH!

Until I went to slide off the table...my knees were definitely wobbly. But I was "okay." I literally stood up like a gymnast who had just stuck their landing after a particularly challenging dismount (without pumping my fists however)...and about 6 steps later, I saw the floor approaching my face at what I considered to be an ALARMING rate.

I woke up with three Nurses (two of which were pretty hot in fact!) and they were inspecting BOTH my arms.

I was busted! They sent me to the infirmary. NOT GOOD.

The next day, I was released and when I returned to my company, I was an 'ing HERO! All because I bled enough to pass out! THAT is the essence of being a military cadet in the American Southeast! (we DID win the overnight by the way)

The Best Bleeder in Bravo Company!

Click "I Like This" if you think I should have been taken out back and shot to see how quickly the rest of my blood would leave my system!

Cheers,

Citadel
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 7:18, 9 replies)

my blood stopped running through my lungs one day
it wasn't so bad as the doctor who was trying to needle his way into my arteries and kept on missing - I felt (and looked) like a pincushion.
( Frumbert has no sig, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 6:48, Reply)

Like a scene from a horror movie
This happened a long time ago and is a longer story, but I'll just tell the relevant bits.

.....A patient came into Labour and Delivery one afternoon complaining of "Bleeding down there" after having a baby a few days before.

I took her semi-wonky vital signs and tried to get a history out of her, but she seemed almost drunk: very spacey and distracted. Finally as I go to check between her legs and see the huge, quickly spreading pool of blood between her legs do I realize she's not drunk or mental, she's in fucking shock and can't think straight cause no blood is left to get to her brain. Duh! Wonder nurse does it again.

We rush her into surgery and one D & C and 7 units of packed red blood cells later, she's fine.

The blood part comes from the story her husband told me later: she had been bleeding all day before her addled brain made her come into L & D. It was a cold November and he came home from his job to find the door ajar and the house dark and freezing. Slowly he walks through the house calling for his wife, trying to find his wife and baby.
There's bloody handprints on the walls, two blood-soaked dining room chairs, smears of blood leading up the stairs.

Upstairs, the toilet is FULL of blood, the bathtub is bloody, every towel in the house is soaked in blood, there's bloody footprints everywhere and in his marital bed, there's a sodden pool of blood 5 feet across. The fucking house is scarlet and no note to say where the hell they are, no one knows anything.

He calls the local small town cops-they spazz out and are ready to call the FBI because they can't find a body but the amount of blood is enough a person shouldn't be able to live after losing this much.

Finally the poor guy's mother-in-law thinks to call him and tell him what the hell happened.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 6:26, Reply)

A conversation
"would you like to go swimming?"
"no, my aunt is visiting from red china"
"is that what you say when you have your period?"
"no, when i have my period i say i will be bleeding 6 pints of livery blood into cotton bread loaves."
"oh"

Tony Millionaire
(Ungrateful, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 5:58, Reply)

Period, aah.
I apologise if I gross anybody out. /cough

I started my period at 11 and I was reaaaally scared. I felt like crying whenever I had to change pads.
Anyway, on some occasions, I'd place the pad lob-sided. I couldn't help it, I didn't even want to look. So the next toilet trip would be messy and stuff...

Unfortunately, one day at school, I had changed a perfectly placed pad with a wonky, stodgy, lobsided one. Changing pads at school was an awful experience, especially as I once saw a girl's menstrual blood not flushed.
In that day, I had music last thing and basically, my menstrual fluid dripped through my knickers, tights and found itself on a brown plastic chair. I saw it, blushed, and pretended like nothing had happened.

Some poor person had to sit on my menstrual blood.
(I've got the clap has some cool sentence here, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 4:46, Reply)

I was a bystander...
at this gig, but I later joined the band, albeit briefly, but that's another story...

Back when I was but 18 or 19, in a small town in Yorkshire, a good band could develop quite a following, and so it was with the local lads.
One Friday, we were all packed into a tiny dance floor in the tiny boozer, enthusiastically enjoying the sounds of teenage thrash metal.

Singer, and all other members of the band, were bouncing about like nobody's business, as were the crowd. And then it happened.
Singer's eyebrow made sudden, high-speed, full momentum contact with the tuning pegs on the bassists guitar (5-string, tuned to Low A, fact fans).

If you haven't seen a bass guitar recently, the tuning peg keys are at least the size of 50p pieces, if not bigger, and when head and guitar connect in such a way, much mess ensues. The crowd loved it...

Best part was, the singer finished the gig, despite ending up looking like the loser in a UFC fight, and still is the stuff of legend in that town as a result.

Apologies for rambling, I'm pissed.

Length? About 4ft from bridge to headstock...
(UXB you said it man. Nobody fucks with the Jesus, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 0:45, 2 replies)

It's a fishmonger's life...
Sometimes I'm a bastard, but mostly I like a jolly good wheeze. In my fishmongering days, we had this lovely smelling stuff called D-Bac, an acholol based anti-bacterial liquid. Smells lovely but tasted quite, quite horrible.

The lads who'd work on a Saturday would invariably cut themselves, ranging from minor nicks to a steaking knife in the forehead (yes really). But on this day, the poor lad (or idiot) decided to cut his thumb. Very badly. Blood was in much abundance, as is its wont.

"It's alright lad, I have some stuff that will stop the bleeding", says I.

"Have some D-BAc".

I suppose that it was my own fault that I had to clean the blood from the walls and ceiling as the lad was shreiking around the counter, trying to shake the D-Bac off.....


Yes, yes, slightly tenuous I know, but it eased the boredom.
(CdrVimes, Sun 10 Aug 2008, 0:16, Reply)

Blood -tasted like oxtail soup....
Many moons ago (insert Star Wars joke), I had my tonsils removed. In those days, they didn't cauterise the root, so you bled.

A lot.

And there was only one place to go -good ol' Mr Tumtum.

For a few hours at least. Then it's the Run to the bog....and speeeeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww a copious (alright, it fucking seemed like it) amount of brown blood.

Did I mention that it tasted like oxtail soup?

Length? Three tins of the stuff more like.
(CdrVimes, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 23:34, 1 reply)

Sabatier!!
Many moons ago I actually got a christmas present I wanted and had been dropping hints about for months.

It was a beautiful Sabatier cleaver. I had wanted one for years and now it was mine.

It was sharp enough out of the box, but once I had finished with it using my sharpening stones it was like nothing else I have ever known!

I had many happy months dismembering chickens with ease, making big bits of cow into exquisite small bits of cow and scaring the hell out of root vegetables. My cleaver became my tool of choice, I would use it for everything (like Homer and his gun in the NRA Simpsons episode)

And then ... my downfall.

2 beefburgers, frozen together straight out of the freezer.

No problem, my utility cleaver will separate those with ease!

You can see it coming can't you!

Sclippp, schlockk!

I didn't actaully feel any pain at all. Not even when I got to the hospital. There was just a dull throb that slowly grew (mostly in my ears strangely enough) until the painkillers kicked in.

The little finger on my left hand was, well, pretty much off. There was just a sliver of bone and a flap of skin holding it on.

I remember calling upstairs to my wife (the kitchen is in the basement) asking in a polite quiet voice if she could pop down and give me a hand. The rest is a bit of a blur as by the time she had testily come downstairs asking why was I bugging her, the kitchen looked a bit like the set of the 2008 remake of the Texas chainsaw massacre "full throttle"!, all 4 walls, the ceiling the windows the floor, everthing was covered in blood!

Luckily my wife is of solid country stock and managed to avoid either fainting or slipping in the gore long enough to call the ambulance. I even seem to recall a bag of frozen peas being applied. They breed em tough up her way!

Screams, fussing, fainting neighbours, and eventually at least 2 pints of claret later, an ambulance arrived.

I was lucky that the best micro surgeon in the area was on call that day and almost 10 years on I not only still have the finger, but pretty much full movement in it.

And the beautiful Sabatier Cleaver?

I have never used it since, although it still hangs on my kitchen utensil rack, oiled and sharpened regularly in case one day I get my nerve back!
( RadG Drinking Mojitos in the sun, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 23:28, Reply)

Got into a fight with a hockey stick
when I was about 14 or 15.

Some absolute prick was weilding a hockey stick in p.e and was adept at using one obviously. So me being the short, annoying kid who runs around your ankles after the ball was poised, ready to tackle this 6ft thick shit.

so I run up behind him, go to take the ball, whilst 6ft aforementioned kid raises his stick in a golf like motion, with tremendous speed I might add.

Suffice to say the hockey stick made contact with my chin and cut straight into it. I hadnt realised I was bleeding, as I felt a considerable ache in my jaw and nothing else.

So I put my hands to my chin (whilst wearing a red rugby top) and noticed that the top was getting a darker shade of red on where my hands where (oh yeah, the rugby top was too big for me).

I thought that it was tears, then blood landed on the astro turf.

Cue me ending up waiting in hospital with my p.e. teacher for three hours.... three!!


in the end it only called for butterfly stitches, but now I have shit loads of hair growing around my scar, but very little on my chin.... that guy ruined my otherwise symmetrical life.



length : about three centimetres in all. Bloody hurt though.
(Mongoose1770 is a bag of balls, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 22:34, 2 replies)

Christmas day, 2007
A very fine young lady and myself decided to do a runner from our respective family Christmasses and tour Europe by train.
It started as 'friends' but by the time we'd got to Vienna, on Christmas day, our friendship had taken a turn for the amorous and we booked a double room in a gorgeous Viennese five star hotel.
I got last minute tickets to the Viennese State Opera (a special xmas day opera) and we dressed up in our finery, ready to go out; me in a tuxedo, her in a very fetching short black dress.
Watching her get changed got me a little hot and excited; I pushed her up against the hotel room door and we groped and snogged; both suddenly agreeing that we just about had time for a quick one before heading off for the opera.
We dived for the luxurious bed (vast white sheets topped with thick golden weave covers)... and without any warning, my nose started spewing blood like some kind of hellish fire hydrant.
It didn't stop for a full half hour; so not only did I miss out on a shag while we were both ultra-Chrismassy-horny, but we were late to the opera (where our seats were crap and we couldn't see anything).
Plus, when we got back, apparently a blood-soaked bed is a turn-off. Shame she wasn't a goth.
( Peregr1n @peregr1n, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 22:11, Reply)

My mother works the night shift
at a hospital that serves some very seedy, stabby, shooty, and otherwise violent communities - so she usually gets bled on profusely within an hour of coming to work every night. Wednesday night's patient was miraculously not a stabbing or shooting, but an old lady with every other problem imaginable.

Just as a terrible thunderstorm was moving in, this old lady started vomiting and shitting blood all over the room. The feeding tube sticking out of her stomach was spurting like a garden hose. It was all over the bed, the floor, and everyone else in the room (who were luckily outfitted with plastic gowns and the like). They were pumping more blood into her to keep her alive while they tried to stop the bleeding.

The room started flooding with water from the thunderstorm (it's a shit hospital) and after a while there was an inch of water and blood on the floor. They eventually stopped the bleeding. God knows how they cleaned all that up.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 21:37, 1 reply)

full sympathy for davyboyingravyjoy
me and the missus came home one day to find blood everywhere. it was all over the carpets, all over the sofa, the hallway, and all over the bathroom. there were bloody handprints leading from lounge to bathroom as well, in a sort of breadcrumb trail of gore.
turns out our flatmate had been seeing his ex, and she had been trying to win him back a little over-enthusiastically, by rubbing his poor soldier so hard that his banjo string was well and truly snapped. to cap it all off, she was apparently expecting a hot jet of coconut milk to spew forth onto her waiting face, but received a gobful of claret instead. lovely.
( the brass moustache putting the ass moust in brache since, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 21:20, Reply)

Boundry
When i was about 12, i loved cricket.
The anticipation on which way the batter was going to knock it, the swing that the clever arse kids could get on the ball, the knowledge your manhood is protected by a measley piece of plastic...

Then i decided to play it.
First game, i got through batting fine. Hardly knocked out a boundry or anything, but played some time and lasted a decent amount of runs.

Fielding on the other hand...

"Andy - thats your catch"
-Cue back peddaling

*THWACK.

The ball goes straight through my hands, and into my right eye. Seems i wasn't that good a catch after all.

I'm knocked to the floor.
Get up, lob the ball back to the bowler, announce i'm fine. Feel a bit dazed, eyes a bit numb.....

"Oh, shit, wait, why is my eye closing???"
People run at me with cold cloths, a frozen bottle of something that is wrapped and put on my eye etc.
I fall asleep in the car, am seen at A&E in half hour, recover with a dented cheek bone.

But the first day back at school was amazing. As it only happend two days previously, i had a shiner so fucking huge it looked like the ball was still stuck under my eye!

The guys thought it was fantastic - another good war wound to show off. But the girls... Until this day i have never seen a girl scream and be so afraid of an injury!
Yeah, ok, it looked damn sick, but i hardly had a third arm growing out of my face...
(Andaba Is Team GB Olympic Colouring Competitor, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 21:17, Reply)

How to get admitted into hospital in the most manly way possible
I didn't think I'd have any stories for this QotW until I experienced the unfortunate event of slicing through half my thumb with a knife sharper than Groucho Marx's tongue. Curiously enough, I was testing it through an array of foods just to see what the £15 chef knife could handle, and it turns out it does layers of skin, muscle and bone for no extra charge.

Anyway, after underestimating the length of the knife, I managed to slice along about 90% of the width of my right thumb, leaving me with a blood spraying flap and slight tingling feeling.

I'm probably the last person in the world to address pain by bench pressing my Y chromosone. I bitch about having man-flu a good 3 or 4 times a month and have had insomnia since I was a lad. I'm pretty much a whining hypochondric, and while most people would follow the rational, overdramatic approach of screaming like a teenage girl at a James Blunt gig over such a predicament as the one I was facing, the combination of shock and nerve damage sought otherwise. And so I present the manly alternative to hospitalisation, a feat that gives me the masculine prowess to impregnate any Mrs FoxyBadger I seek from over 50 yards at a time while assembling a Ford Mustang from parts using only my biceps and a monkey wrench:

Step 1: After receiving the wound

- Common Approach: Run frantically, shouting for the nearest person to wrap anything less bloody than blood around the wound and dial an ambulance
- Manly alternative: Inform your screaming flatmate that the chop 'kinda feels weird', and proceed to put pressure on the wound with your other fingers while you go back into the living room with a cup of tea to watch Top Gear on Dave

Step 2: Treating the wound

- Common approach: Dial 999, ask for an ambulance. Wait.
- Manly alternative: Realise after 20 minutes of Clarkson that you're getting hungry and your flatmate won't stop wailing at you to go outside and do something about the blood trickling from yourself. Proceed to walk to hospital, but only because there's a chippy nearby

Step 3: Admission

- Common approach: Stagger in. Faint. Wake up confused and crying for Mummy
- Manly alternative: Stroll in with a box of chips in your spare hand, inform the lass at reception of your wound, personal details, and that you'll be outside eating should they choose to help you. Spray the glass panel with blood when she doesn't believe that anyone with such an injury could be so calm and demands to see the cut. Proceed to watch Fifth Gear and Britain's Strongest Man whilst eating food, secretly knowing that you've gone one up on them in manliness.

Step 4: Treatment

- Common Approach: Be excitable, demanding the least painful treatment under the Sun. Immediately.
- Manly alternative: Eventually get seen too by the hottest nurse this side of Berkshire. Inform her that despite being injected with polio shots and getting the wound dabbed in pure alcohol you can't feel jack shit. Watch as she impales your hand with a pair of scissors to see if you're human.

So after losing a good pint or so of blood between over my house, the mile long road to the hospital and the reception desk I was eventually patched up and told to stay off my face on painkillers for a week or so. My thumb's now swollen, greenish blue and flapping, but I can't half feel smug about it. I spent 3 hours holding myself together and not once did I do so much as raise my voice.

Apologies for length
(FoxyBadger (try saying it backwards), Sat 9 Aug 2008, 21:10, 1 reply)

DIY mouth abortion simulator
I had one of those tooth/gum things where your gums bleed a bit. Well, they bled quite a lot if you sat there sucking at your teeth.

So, one morning I woke up and was sucking away while pondering whether to get out of bed or not. After a while i realised there was a fair bit of blood in my mouth. Being human, and therefore curious, i decided to see if i could completely fill my mouth with blood. Turns out i could.

It also turns out that if you leave it in your mouth for about half an hour, it congeals.

So when I finally got up to spit it out, rather than filling the loo with lovely runny blood, i dropped a large, red chewy ball of what looked like what i can only imagine an abortion would produce.

Unfortunately i didn't have a camera to hand, and the antibiotics cleared it up, otherwise there would be some clicky goodness for you.
(smorgasbord, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 20:59, Reply)

gonnae no dae that
Years ago I met a brilliant bloke called Piley Pete - he was called that because of an unfortunate incident on an north sea oil rig involving a toilet, some caustic soda and some unfortunate splash back resulting in a very sore botty bot.

Anyway Pete earned a crust doing corporate team building seminars with a difference - he taught people sleight of hand tricks, street magic - levitation that sort of thing.One of Pete’s tricks involved a simple prop that has been around forever.

**TRICK SPOILER**

If you don’t want to know how silk hankies are made to disappear or how that cigarette stubbed out in your shirt malarkey is done don’t read any more.

The tucking the hankie into the hand trick is done with a fake plastic thumb tip that fits over your own en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thumb_tip
Anyway I had one of these lying in a kitchen cupboard for about 5 years when one day while cooking I chanced upon it. I have some splendid Japanese steel chef's knives and with over 20 years of honing my culinary skills, have become quite adept with them. My party piece is to slice a whole cucumber into a pile of lovely thin slices in seconds - while looking the viewer in the eye the whole time. Goes down well at dinner parties. So clearly you can see where this is going. Ketchup diluted with cooking oil and a splash of soy sauce to darken it dwn a bit makes great fake blood i find - and bits of chicken make great finger innards.

So there's Mrs. Spimf in the lounge watching telly - noise filters through from the kitchen...

CHOPPYCHOPCHOPCHOP
CHOPPYCHOPPYCHOP

CHOPCHOP....AAAAAAARRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Mrs. Spimf races into kitchen there's me, my severed thumb on the chopping block and blood everywhere while holding aloft my hand with 'severed' thumb (own thumb tucked into fist - fist covered in 'blood')Fair play to her she was a trolley dolly in a past life and knows some first aid. As calm as is possible she tells me to sit down and hold the injured hand high, grabs a towel and starts raking around in the freezer for a bag of frozen peas.

When she turns round - there's old yer Uncle Spimfy doing the Macca thumbs aloft pose with a big Tom Cruise cheesy grin.

We've been together 20 years this year. She should get a bloody medal.

!
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 20:13, 4 replies)

Am not proud
Few years ago my mate from Junior school turned up with his new (to him) Ducati motorcycle.

I'd been doing some work on a car so was in cargo's teeshirt and trainers.

he offered me a little go on the bike. being a private road I didn't put on anything else.

At the bottom of the street I turned and subsequently tried to wheelie the aformentioned machine.

It went horribly wrong, I landed, slided 30mph just dressed casually. The ensuing mess was a large bill for repairs on the bike but nothing compared to the loss of skin on right arm, torso and leg. For Judas sake I could see my kneecap!

Didn't take time off work but was suitably embarred with having to leave every half hour to dress wounds that leaked.

One week down the line went to doctor who was more troubled with my hip that was in a shocking state.

Did I learn a lesson? No, am still an idiot but just on things I own, Body repairs, bank balances don't.

Eddie - you read this you were there mate

Forget lenght and width, measure pain
(ElGatodeBarco, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 19:46, Reply)

I have to give blood every month for life
I suffer from Haemachromatosis and have to give a pint and a half every four weeks for life or die slowly fom multiple organ failure. Since I was diagnosed five years ago I've given enough to have a bath in.
(monkeys in underpants, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 19:33, Reply)

Well
My flatmate pulls his little toenails out on a regular basis because

"he can't be bothered to find scissors to cut them".
( Madam Marlboro wonders if you've found her yet, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 18:39, 6 replies)

This is vaguely on topic.
Last week, whilst in the pub, one of the regulars was talking about a dog which had been shot and dumped just ouside the village next to a road. Initially, being a bit drunk, a feeling of rage washed over me, imagining some unfeeling bastard blowing an unwanted pet away, but the whole story was somewhat different.

The dog was an Akita, and belonged to some "incomers". Sorry to sound like a bumpkin, I know exactly fuck all about farming despite living in the country for 30 years, but I know enough not to leave your Japanese Akita running around in a field of sheep. This village has doubled in size in the last 15 years, and as a result a lot of townies have moved here, looking for cheap houses. Apparently, the farmer had called the police but they never showed up..... having lost over £1000 of sheep already to the dog, he had no choice. The owners of the dog were, typically, unwilling to accept responsibility, but whatever happened, the dog has been dumped by someone in some bushes and long grass next to a road used by a lot of walkers round here, and apparently, it's guts were all over the place.

I have been here long enough to know this was something I did not want to see, but I had forgotten about it a few days later when my mate asked me to go for a walk. We were approaching the area where the dog was supposed to be when I remembered, but my mate was already in a blood lust frenzy and was determined to see this gory sight. Soon enough, he shouted "There it is!" I never looked. He walked away saying "Oh, that's horrible. I just got a glimpse of it! That's scarred me for life! I'll never forget that, even though it was just a glimpse."

It's around here that I should describe my mate. He's one of those people who says the things he thinks other people want to hear. A bit of a weirdo he is, a stalkery, obsessive type of fellow. I have many tales about him but none have fitted any qotw yet. Anyway. He spent the following day telling everyone how horrific it was and that it had "scarred" him.

That day, I told my other mate about this, and he took me out in the car to where the dog was. I pointed to where it lay but refused to go stare at a family pet that had been killed, so he ran off and glared over the fence for a bit, then returned, laughing.

My mate has been "scarred for life" by an old wooden television set and some red curtains. The dog's corpse had been taken away two days earlier. We haven't told him yet..... he doesn't take ridicule well, which only makes it better.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 16:11, Reply)

Banjo String
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I snapped my Frenulum, and I bled for ages!

The "is that you're blood" cheeky comment to the women at the time was just icing on the cake!
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 15:56, 3 replies)

Tail amputation
I shut my dogs tail in the car door today. It would have been ok, except he panicked and jumped 3 feet into the air pulling the tail out of the door but leaving the fur and skin behind. Cue one skinned tail to the bone. Blood everywhere, tails apparently bleed an awful lot. Rushed dog to vet, on arrival inside of car looks like someone had been murdered on back seat. £312 later and the poor bugger has got half a tail and is high as a kite coming down off the drugs the vet administered. Worst thing is, the dog in his state of shock "emptied" himself in the car too. Really don't know how I can face cleaning it up. Thank Christ its a company car.
(disco_al_uk, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 15:22, 2 replies)

You spin me right round...

"Yeah you keep spinning round on that chair you drunken fiend.

Really, go for it, just remember that I'm too pissed to get you to hospital when you fall off and bang your...

You cock. Make sure you clean up all that fucking blood, I'm going to bed."
( Moey, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 14:14, Reply)

How to cough up a lup of cow
Our family went out for a meal at a nice pub restaurant which had just been opened.

My uncle had steak and was drinking red wine.

For some reason he decided to eat a huge lump of steak rather than actually use his knife to cut it and promptly choked on it a few seconds later followed by coughing up a cascade of red liquid that looked like blood.

We all thought he'd vomited up blood but then realised it was just 3 glasses of red wine. Then he proceeded to try and eat the rest when he was over the shock of coughing up a lump of cow.
(Pua'a ega-ega How much chuck norris could a woodchuck chuck?, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 13:50, Reply)

In my first year at uni
we were doing an experiment which involved making several chemicals that were supposed to do various things to red blood cells, and then testing them on the cells to see if we'd made the compounds correctly. However when it came to the actual testing, I hadn't quite thought through what was going to happen and what we were going to observe. Hence me making this wonderful observation when the vial of cells was brought carefully out of the prep room:

"Ooooh, the blood is red!"

in front of my entire year group. And the future of this country's industry is in my hands. *Cackles*
(Petite chien is going to do science to it, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 13:01, 1 reply)

Christmassy Blood Story
Christmas Eve in my hometown of Lincoln.

On the snow-covered Steep Hill that leads down into the High Street.

A young man has fallen and smashed his face and skull open. Blood runs through the snow like a frozen river of claret.

Concerned friends surround this young man as the distant sound of an ambulance reverberates through the cold night air.

"You lucky bastard," says one of them, "think of the nurses."

I procede to drink heavily with friends and pretend I am back in London.
(Error 404 - Username Unknown, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 12:36, 1 reply)

Does it count if
my most horrifying account was a dream?

I killed all my family because their blood turned into money.

I believe cheese was the culprit...
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 9 Aug 2008, 12:18, 3 replies)