On a camping trip I can now barely remember...
I woke in the night with my hand in something cold and sticky on the floor of the tent. On closer inspection it was blood. Then I noticed my sister was missing. My brother was still there, but my sister had disappeared and been replaced by a puddle of blood. I went to tell my parents. They too had vanished.

I woke up my brother and, being little boys, together we silently panicked, incase a psycho was listening in nearby.

Then out of nowhere a car pulled up. The headlights beamed onto the tent. This was it. Whoever had taken the rest of our family had come back for us.

The lights went out. We could hear the footsteps approaching the tent. We were on the verge of screaming... but were too considerate for other campers.

Turned out it was just my mum. My sister had suddenly had a really bad nosebleed overnight and they'd rushed her to hospital, thinking we'd sleep right through.
( Butters and his titanium codsocket, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:49, 2 replies)

Home Sweet Slough
After Mrs RWN and I had been courting for some time, we decided that the time had come for us to move in together. At that time I was renting a miniscule flat in central London while she owned a slightly less miniscule flat in sunny Slough, where she was working at the time. It made sense for me to move to Slough, which if nothing else proved the strength of my feelings for her.

We lived there for about eighteen months, during which my feelings about Slough changed -- where previously I had thought of it as just a drab craphole, with time I came to regard it as a drab craphole full of chavs and various groups who'd happily knife you for the price of a bag of crisps.

We knew the time had come to leave when one day while sitting in the front room watching telly, we noticed a bit of a commotion going on outside. We looked out the window to see the street full of police vans, ambulances, and among the various ranks of plod, a whole team done up in those white plastic all-in-one suits. The occasion, it seemed, had something to do with the trail of blood leading from the basement of the flats opposite, around the side of the building and into the car-park behind. It was all over the steps up from the basement flat, across the ground and smeared up the walls too.

Press coverage was surprisngly (although tellingly, I think) scant but we eventually learned to our complete non-surprise that it had something to do with a drugs deal.

Within three months, we'd sold up and moved somewhere less shit.

Slough: yes, it's just as bad as you think it is.
( reallywittyname veraciously conspues lexiphanicism on, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:40, 1 reply)

My skin is quite see-through
I was having a shower a while back, had just covered myself with shower gel and was now happily making myself not covered in shower gel. There was this one ocean-blue blob of smooth shower gel that wouldn't wash off no matter how vigorously I tried to run it off my chest...


...until I realised it was a large vein I could see deep under my skin and I wasn't ever going to 'wash it off'.
( Hampster Squared has stuff at www.tilla.co.uk, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:36, Reply)

Wasps
I hate the little fuckers, always have. Years ago in my student flat, I spotted a 'skinhead of the insect world' buzzing around my lounge. "Right", I decided, "Time to face up to my fear and kill one". So I took some newspaper, and when the evil bastard was on the window, I splattered it on the glass. While putting my hand through the glass. It wasn't the action of putting my hand through the window that caused the damage, it was pulling it back (automatic reaction) via the jagged bits of glass. Severed 2 arteries

You know in films when you see blood spraying? That's exactly what happens. And it makes that hissing sound too. I panicked, and ran upstairs to get help, spraying blood everywhere. No one in. Fuck. I ran outside and luckily my nieghbour was working on his car and got me to A&E. Fuck knows what would have happened if he hadn't been there.

My flatmates got back to what they later described as "something from a slasher pic". I had sprayed arterial blood all over our flat, up the stairwell and all over the front door. They all freaked. The worst thing about this? The pathetic small scar, thanks to the handiwork of the NHS.

Length? About 4 foot and it hit the wall.
(ginger ninja, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:22, 1 reply)

Yum yum
as lads we used to get a tin of condensed milk and share it out.

One day we bought said tin and I did the duty of opening it so naturally I got the first go. I stuck my finger in and wiped it round the tin to get as much as possible, cutting my finger in the process and bleeding into the sweet contents. It immediately went pink and nobody else wanted any.

seeing it was my indgredients I continued to devour the whole tin. It was bloody tasty. (ba-dum-tish)
(Bluffboy South Africa! World Champions!!!, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:22, Reply)

Blood In The Streets
Well, there could have been if I still lived in the UK. First time I've been threatened over the Internet since I stopped annoying the NRA.

Enjoy. A recent exchange between me and B3tas very own Tin-Foil Hat King.....


*********************


Stick to the tin-foil."

little aggresive aren't we??

it's so easy from behind your keyboard
(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Thu 7 Aug, 08:34)

********************
@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
Oh fuck off...

Just stick me on ignore.
(Legless Internet Ninja - We Own The Net, Fri 8 Aug, 01:20)

*************************


@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
pfffft


funny how everyone's really hard over the keyboard

tosser
(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Fri 8 Aug, 08:44)

*************************


@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
And it's funny how the tinfoil-hat brigade think that they can intimidate someone over the Internet....

Now piss off back under your rock along with your conspiracy theories
(Legless Internet Ninja - We Own The Net, Fri 8 Aug, 09:15)


******************************


re: little aggresive aren't we??
arf

ok enough talk - we can meet up and you can show me how hard you are in real life

how about that ?
(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Fri 8 Aug, 09:42)


*****************************


@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
Fine.

I'll be waiting outside Flinders Street Station, anytime you want.
(Legless Internet Ninja - We Own The Net, Fri 8 Aug, 09:46)


*****************************


@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
where in UK is that, chickenshit?
(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Fri 8 Aug, 09:47)

*******************************

@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
It's in Melbourne where I live you delusional fuckwit....
(Legless Internet Ninja - We Own The Net, Fri 8 Aug, 09:48)


*******************************


re: little aggresive aren't we??
funny how people that get aggresive and confrontational over the inernet make sure they're well out of reach

would have been nice to teach you some manners about abusing people that you are way out of your depth with

never mind

:)

(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Fri 8 Aug, 09:55

***************************


@ re: little aggresive aren't we??
And, even if I was still in the UK, do you really think I'd meet up with someone from the Internet for a fight? This isn't the playground sonny.

Besides, meeting up with someone from the Internet who's demonstrably insane might be a bit unsafe. So far you've demonstrated that you're:

Delusional
Paranoid
Violent

So I think meeting up with someone like you might be a tad unwise. I'd probably end up with a knife in my throat or be greeted with a shotgun blast to the face.
(Legless Internet Ninja - We Own The Net, Fri 8 Aug, 09:53)

**********************************


re: little aggresive aren't we??
you ocnfronted me first sonny as I remember

like I said - it'd be very nice to teach you how manners work in the real world, not just from the safety of your keyboard

:)
(The Goat www.cuttingthroughthematrix.com, Fri 8 Aug, 09:57,



Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:13, 28 replies)

Catering woes
Helping friends out with their catering company, I was volunteered by my wife to assist in the coffee shop plating up sandwiches. With the monotony of cut, plate and wrap I started to drift off to a happy place.

Until attempting to tear off some more cling-film I punched the box. That plastic teethed edge hurt, right in that fleshy webbed part between my fingers. Sort of like many, many paper-cuts all of them bleeding profusely.

Surrounded by knives, cleavers and a bacon slicer, I cut myself on a cardboard box. The shame hurt more.
( Weejock, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:11, 1 reply)

Masochists
Does anyone else like getting cut, watching it bleed like a motherfucker, and then having it clot up naturally? And then peeling off all that dried blood and starting it all over again?

...

Well you sick fucks.
(Sco smokes crack often., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:05, 2 replies)

Combi blood-shit-puke story
Now, I can't verify this story, but the mate who told me it is a right deranged little fucker, and knowing his thought process I believe him.
Now, little gap-toothed fuck Rowan, for that's his name, used to like a drink. A proper fucking big drink. One night he's let loose in the student union, and drinks his own body weight in cheap booze.
Soon he's trying to hold his stomach in whilst he finds somewhere to chunder, and runs to the bogs. Everywhere is full, all cubicle doors are closed, urinals packed, sinks occupied. He does the right thing, according to his rat like brain. Boots the door of the nearest cubicle in, smashing the piss poor lock and "BLEURGH!". All over the unfortunate occupant, who's sat there having a shit.
Next, according to Rowan, he suddenly sobers up. The guy sat there looks quite big, even sat down. Rowan panics, this big fuck is going to lay him out, so he does what any (in)sane person would do, gets in first. Rowan leans into the cubicle and plants what he describes as the only decent punch he has ever thrown. Big bloke goes down. Rowan runs like fuck.
Now, unfortunately Rowan didn't stay around to see what this bloke looked like afterwards, but the idea of a man, vomit all down his top and jeans, slight skid mark where he's fallen off the toilet mid turd and squashed nose, claret all over his face has made us smile many a time.

I know, not much blood, but I love the story so much.
( monkeyboyalpha jumping on the bandwagon since, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:03, 2 replies)

DiT's post reminded me of a similar one...
Decided to get a large tattoo on my right shoulder - normally they'd do the outline and you go back to get it filled in. The tattooist though, was so impressed with my complete non-reaction to pain etc. (mind you I was covered in bites from a particularly energetic bit of sexy time the night before), she decided to do it all in one go.

Halfway through the filling in, Tommy (shop owner - good bloke), came in to see how it was going.

Now Tommy is a big bloke, and has done thousands of tattoos as well as being covered in them himself, so he's not averse to seeing blood. Anyway, he took one look, went pale and left hurriedly. I had another peek, ok, there's some blood *shrugs*

Went back to work when it was all finished and was working away quite merrily when a co-worker said "snee, do you realise your arm is dripping blood everywhere?"

I looked, yep, it was like a red river down my arm, and pooling on the floor...

Oh well.
( snee held his breath since, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:01, Reply)

Red train to Hythe
Like most people my degree coursework was usually done the night before it was due to be handed in. After pulling an all nighter and suffering from a heavy cold I was due to get a train to Hythe, Kent for a family reunion once I had handed in the coursework.

On the leg of the journey from London to Hythe I was feeling rather queasy. I thought I was just sweating profoundly but when I looked down there were spots of blood on my shirt and I realised I had a nose bleed. Having suffered from them since childhood I was not fazed by this so I staggered to the the train toilet to plug my nose and clean myself up.

Once in the toilet it became apparent that the nose bleed would not be quick to stop, in those situations I usually hang my head over the sink and run cold water over it. Of course being a British train it had one of those little dog turd foot pumps to get the water out of the tap, also being a British train it had no water. The nose bleed lasted about 5 minutes, the clean up operation took slightly longer. Once I had used virtually all the toilet paper to wipe the sink and the toilet itself was stuffed with bloody tissue (unable to flush due to lack of water) I decided to abandon my efforts and return to my seat. To say the least the sink had gone from unclean white to dirty pink.

I can't imagine what any other users must have thought had gone on in there to result in such mess, but I don't think it was any less than the stndard I would usually expect on an South East train.
( Statler&Waldorf I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 10:00, Reply)

I lost over 5 pints and bled for 19 hours FROM MY COCK!!!!
I was in hospital for an operation on my leg. I needed major reconstruction (the results of which can be seen here i21.photobucket.com/albums/b261/sybaf/P7110027.jpg ) and was going to be out for the count for a long while so they put a catheter in. For women this is a small tube but for guys it’s quite long.

I came round and the operation had gone as planned and I now just had to stay in bed for about a week.
The next day they took the catheter out and gave me a bottle to pee in too.
Three days later I started pissing blood. “It’s just blood in your urine” they said, “It's nothing to worry about. (Lying cunts)
So I’m lying there, not pissing with blood just pouring out of the end of my cock as if I was pissing. A friendly nurse holds the end of Mr Winkle whilst another cuts off all my pubic hair. They tell me to hold tight. It is about midnight. I hold.

It’s now morning. Clots are forming in my cock; they come out like cherries, bloody horrible cherries coming out of MY COCK! It’s horrible. I have filled several pee bottles with blood and still they keep telling me it’s blood in my urine. I am 22 years old and crying for my mummy.

Midday, mummy arrives. I am humiliated. I am holding my cock desperately trying to stop the bleeding, filling bottles with blood clots and crying whilst lying on bed sheets soaked in blood. “What’s going on?” she asks the nurse “Oh don’t worry it’s just blood in the urine” she replies sounding a little more nervous. “We’ve called for the urologist he will be here soon.

It’s now about 6 O’clock. Shift change. Man comes in to take my blood pressure. “Hmmmm this can’t be right he says and scuttles off to find another machine, it says the same. He calls the head nurse and tells her its wrong and all the machines have broken. She tells him that it’s probably right and that they have been trying to get someone up for hours to stop the bleeding.

7 O’clock arrives and finally the urologist arrives. He says “Oh nothing to worry about just a bit of blood in the urine” he does some checks and says “Oh……. Ummmm damn……..NURSE!”

Turns out it wasn’t blood in my urine. In fact he (for it was the same urologist) had had some trouble getting the catheter in and had stabbed me through the walls of the urethra with a blunt catheter tube, there was now a large clot sitting on the cut which had prevented the blleding from stopping. All this time they nurses had been phoning him and he had been telling them not to worry as it was blood in the urine and was quite common, they had relayed that information to me but not really believed it. I had been bleeding as if I was pissing cherries for 19 hours. The only way to stop it was to…….put the catheter back in, so that’s what they did and fuck it hurt. Then finally someone has the sense to ask “How long has he been bleeding like that?”

I remember lying there in a bed soaked in brown thick sticky blood, feeling way too hot and suddenly a cold feeling came over my body, it was wonderful. “I feel cold” I said. Suddenly it was panic stations everyone was running around me and a new doctor I hadn’t seen was literally stabbing a needle in to my wrist trying to find a vein. They started pumping saline in to me and I started to warm up. “I’m to hot! I’m too hot!” I shouted “Don’t worry “They said “Hot is good” all of a sudden the same wave of coldness washed over me and I said “Oh that’s better its nice and cold”

And that’s all I remember.

I woke up in the intensive care ward with a triple tap attached to my elbow crook pumping blood in to me. I felt shit but I was alive. I had lost over 5 pints of blood and if I hadn’t have been in a hospital I would be dead.
They let me out after 12 days but I had to have the catheter for another 2 weeks after that and they are horrible, they get infected and make you feel like you need to pee though of course with one in you never need to. I had to empty the bag all the bloody time and you had no control over how fast it filled up.

I am however happy to report that my cock made a full recovery as this SFW evidence shows i21.photobucket.com/albums/b261/sybaf/P6230024-1.jpg

Length? Not too bad considering what it’s been through.
( Peej, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 9:45, 6 replies)

When I lived
over in Thailand and I was but a lad, I managed to sneakily purchase a ninja-star at a local market whilst shopping with my mum and smuggled it home in my pocket.

Once I got home I went round to a friends house and we sat a plank of wood against a brick wall taking it in turns to throw the star at it....I lasted 3 throws, missed the plank altogether hit the brick wall cue ninja star ricocheting back bouncing off the ground thus gathering more momentum and sticking square in my shin, believe you me the tears flowed as much as the blood did before i passed out.
(Gorbotronic 01100111 01101111 01110010 01100010 01101111 00001, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 9:40, Reply)

DIY Vasectomy
Mine was a happy life, playing amongst disused railway embankments and woodland, not a care in the world...

I was about 7. I'd finished froliking and had returned a grubby little bastard, needing to be washed. Not a problem methinks, I start running a bath (does anybody take these anymore?) and de-robe, ready for some Count Duckula bubble-bath joy. I had a floatilla of assorted boats and floatsam awaiting my command.

The bath is ready, I gleefully clamber to get in. As I do, I feel a tinge of pain 'down below'...

Lots of blood and a swift exit later, I peer down to see my cock dangling in half, pissing blood and hanging around like some kind of fleshy groupie. Cue screams and a bemused neighbour being summoned, as she's a nurse.

Turns out I'd managed to trap the skin around my little pee-pee in the bath side. I mean, what the fuck?!

8 stitches and a lot of screams later, the little trooper was as stitched up like a kipper.

I'm pleased to report that as of yet, all seems fine plumbing-wise (ie no sketchy pissing out sideways).

*shudders*

Length? A kiddy cock is only about an inch I think...

Pop!
( elgordo, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 9:34, Reply)

True.

My blood type is also my outlook on life...

'B Negative'.
(Mr Twisty Cheeky The worst kept secret in B3ta..., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 9:29, 2 replies)

'I've had a vision'...

When I was very young, I was happy. Everything was tickety-boo. I had my family and friends close by and wanted for nothing.

Then one fateful day, I looked out into the countryside and saw blood. Fields of it. Coming towards us. Rather than consider the profit potential of somehow containing the blood and selling it on to the health industry; I instead insisted that the whole family ‘up sticks’ and bugger off somewhere else, based purely on my unprovable vision of doom.

Some of the mistrusting cockwarts didn’t believe me, however a few did…so off we trundled.

What followed was a dramatic tale of bravery, triumph over adversity…and something about a black rabbit.

Love,

Fiver
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 9:07, 4 replies)

Initiation rites
I come from a family that has roots in the dark ages, and they have this little tradition on the birth of a new child that involves a drop of the old claret.

Think of being blooded after your first successful fox hunt or deer kill, you get the idea.

Anyway the family had been going through a bad patch before I came along and the new lackey from the west country wasn't the sharpest tool in the box.

So eventually the birds and the bees performed the magic and mum gets bigger with child and after the usual 9 months gives birth to me, "BLOOD!" roars my dad from the bedroom to carry on the tradition

"Oy'll get it!" replied the plump but inept bumpkin wet nurse, and toddled off, but being a batty cow she only came back with tomato ketchup instead of a pint of type O negative, and let me tell you, that has caused no end of bloody trouble for me over the years.

Stupid bitch

Yours, Count Duckula
(Halfy By light alone, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 8:40, 1 reply)

Two from me....
..Aged..ooh...about 7 I was furiously hacking at a bit of wood with a rusty old saw when it suddenly began to turn red. Somehow, I'd managed to saw through the middle of my thumb, and got about half way down the nail before a) wondering why it wasn't hurting and b) wailing for mother. As this was the 70s, dad just stuck it under a tap.

Roll forward to the wee hours in a student house in Middlesbrough. Housemate John has just been sick, very sick and needs escorting to the bathroom, which, like so many of those terraces is downstairs, beyond the kitchen. While he fills the bath with drunken vomit, I slip sideways and crash my head through the back door, then stand in the resulting shards (think 1/72 scale Die Hard). I cut something fairly serious, as dark purple blood is everywhere, pulsing from my foot. John is peering over the bath going "Oooh, you've cut your foot, bleaurghhh". I wrote "It" on the wall, thus inspiring a popular bestseller by Stephen King*


*Lie - I spent all night picking glass out of my foot, and worrying about telling the landlord.
(Mousy Tongue ...Generally bemused by life..., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 7:33, 1 reply)

not bleeding per se, but pre-bleeding?
a former Ms EmilyBronte and i managed to be dating for so long our cycles 'synced up' (as it were) so we had to deal not only with our own PMS joys but that of another person. at the same time. hooray!
not too thrilling compared to other people's stories but everything became a huge drama for one week of the month nontheless.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 7:16, 3 replies)

Lesson of Life.
Never trust anything that bleeds for 5 days and doesnt die.

'Nuff Said.
(Miggyman, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 7:01, 2 replies)

I got a good one
A few years ago I was opening a can and I sliced my thumb on the edge of it and there was a huge gash and lots of blood. So much that I freaked out, threw up 3 times, my eyes rolled up and I became pale. After the bleeding stopped, you can look through the gash and see some tissue. I got 5 stitches and a scar.
(NERDYLURKER is attempting to divide by zero, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 6:32, Reply)

i once jumped through a plate glass french door just for fun
thankfully it was open, my entrance was well received and unfortunately bloodless
(waterglasof produce of italy, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 5:19, Reply)

With an ex...
As baw_bag's story reminded me, making sweet love whilst the painters are in, is often unpleasant.

A few years back, whilst seeing my first proper girlfriend, we were getting a bit frisky on the sofa downstairs when she decided she wanted me there and then.

As I knew she was painting the town red, I was adamant that my hobbit was not venturing into the crack of doom on such an afternoon, as memories came flooding back of a previous experience where she forgot to take her plug out and a long time was spent retrieving it... *shudders* (and no I do not understand the logistics myself, she was tiny and I am definitely not)

But she kept going on and on til I gave up and made sure she gave herself a wipe and removed the previous occupant. So we went at it a while on the floor, a bit of rolling and such. Some fun was had, not by me, she was rubbish... Finished up just in time as her mum got home, so I scurried upstairs and left the ex to tidy up as any loving boyfriend shit-scared of parentals would.

All was fine, nothing was out of place I thought. Her mum called us down for dinner a while later and I sat and ate my jacket potato with relish as it was the most interesting part of my day, had a quick chat with the mum and then me and the ex scurried back upstairs.

"Oh...My...FUCKING...GOD!"

I spin around... "WHAT?!" I yell in utter shit-your-pants-surprise.

"Your....your back!"

Yes, I had rolled over onto a used tampon and the back of my shirt was utterly covered in blood, then I had sat and had dinner with the mother whilst not having a clue.

I never thought it was possible to die from embarrassment but I'm certain I came within a flea's whisker.

and I'm certain a few flea's came in their own.

Apologies for length, I don't know how she took it with one already in either.
(RizzJizz doesn't do life., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 5:00, Reply)

Wow..
I got in earlier and the first thing I checked when online was QOTW but there was nothing here yet.

The funny little coinkydink is, before I got in, I was at my....girlfriends? (complicated) house and just before I left she says "one sec, can I cut you?"

"Pardon?!" says I.

Her: "Can I cut you with razors?"
Me: "Ummm what...why? Is it sexually exciting to you?"
Her: "I think it might be, *licks her lips* go onnnn!"

And that is the story of how I have a big plaster on my arm and a lot less blood in my body this evening.

Barely any length at all, I whined like a baby in fact.
(RizzJizz doesn't do life., Fri 8 Aug 2008, 4:38, 9 replies)

Yes,
it's another qotw which I have lots of answers for. Most aren't crude but are long..... this is the exception.

Period sex.

I'm sorry to bring this up, but it still makes me smile. I'll keep it short.

We all know we shouldn't, but we also know the thrill of breaking a taboo, however minor, so although my ex was usually off limits for a few days a month, occasionally a good bath towel would be ruined as we, um, couldn't wait.

The thing that makes me smile though is the pantomime that went on afterwards. I was required to, er, reverse out slowly and lay staring at the ceiling while she "ugh"d and "ew"d as she cleaned up the carnage. I faced pain of death if I even glanced south before the gore was removed..... as though I wanted to see mini-baw drenched in gunk.

She also once took a tampax out while I was in the room. I still can't eat spare ribs.
( baw__bag contains traces of nuts on, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 4:12, 1 reply)

Pearoasty health problemy loosely related story
Hello folks. People may or may not remember back from the personal hygiene QOTW, my troubles with operations and the like.

My only really gross encounter with blood and it's skanky bodily relatives is when I was suffering from a few abcesses and cysts during the summer of 2007. Being a chap of large stature (read: fat cunt) and working in a warehouse, sweat having nowhere to go was an immense problem. This culminated in me having several cysts etc during that summer.

Incoming Pearosty bit, but it's roasted nicely.

I'd just been in hospital for 2 procedures, removal of a cyst on my thigh and the failed removal (NHS guys I love you to pieces, you kick ass 99% of the time, this was the 1%) of a pilonidal sinus, or for those not so schooled in lumps and bumps, an abscess in the top of my arsecrack caused by arse hair forming a nest under the skin due to an enlarged pore for some ungodly reason. I'd like to add at this point that to preserve my stitches, my personal hygiene wasn't great and I wasn't able to shower properly for the duration of my stitches.

Got even worse a week after this, armpit is slightly pongy and a bit sore, i ignore it. Go play a night of pool with the lads and come home with a lump in my armpit the size of a golf ball. Bit worried, go to bed.

Wake up in 4 hours time and wonder why I'm soaking wet, why my bedsheets around my arm are brown and why my arm hurts more than imaginable.

Turns out it was an abscess caused by a blocked sweat gland after not showering for a week and having problems there before. The bloody pus ridden monstrosity had burst while i was asleep, releasing pus and poison everywhere that smelt worse than rotting meat and was a little scary cos my oxter had made it...

The process they heal these with involves having a hole in your arm for around 2 weeks which is packed with stuff to absorb excess pus and arm curds and so that it heals from the bottom up so as not to create a void in my arm. Not cool, cue every 2 days, smelly old me going to hospital to have this changed and nearly choking on the smell of the crazy arm cheddar coming out of my pits.


I still to this day have some impressive scars from last summer. I had my pilonidal attacked again by my private surgeon, another abcess removed from my right armpit, one more from my left armpit and another from my inner thigh. The wonderous thing about still being a fat cunt is the fact that it's reoccuring at the moment.

I currently have a cyst that's inside the scars in my right armpit, another cyst on my inner thigh and one in my left armpit, but that ones only a baby.

Any medical betans about to give me health advice other than "Lose wait you fat cunt" would be great. I already wash in Hibiscrub and shower twice a day if I can.
(knifeh and Mrs Knifeh discovered radioactive bacon!, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 4:00, 6 replies)

V - The Series
When I was 14 I banged on some reinforced glass to get a friends attention to see if Whistle Test had started yet. I banged too hard and put my hand straight through the window. Huge cut. I saw something few people will ever see. The inside of their own arm. Underneath the skin we look a lot like the aliens from "V".

This was at boarding school, and the only adults around were in the dining room feeding the wee ones dinner. I had to traipse through a dining room of 50 kids aged 5-11 to find anyone, squirting blood everywhere. I also bled all over the house parents cats, mostly on purpose. And I left blood over several doors too.

After the event I heard several kids in the dining room threw up from the sight, and two went so far as to pass out.
(Bonedwarf is the size of a lemon, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 2:50, Reply)

Mangled..
.
I don't know of I'll be able to describe this well enough so you get the full horror but I'll give it a shot. It doesn't involve blood but it does end up with someone with mangled limbs.

As I've mentioned before, I was once in the Army and this is a tale from Basic Training. It was our first time over the assault course. The first time is actually pretty easy as you run to each obstacle as a group and are taught how to tackle each one.

So we get to the final obstacle. The scramble nets. Imagine a the skeleton of a box with all sides covered in strong rope netting. That's what it is. For this one, you had to climb up the net, crawl across the roof of the box and then grab a rope and somersault over the edge and then hand over hand down the rope.

I'll say that again. You have to grab a rope and *somersault*, a kind of forward roll, over the edge.

The way you do this is to be lying on your belly facing the edge. Then you grab the rope dangling below you and pull it up towards you. Then you grab the rope with both hands and *making sure that your thumbs are pointing towards your body and upwards towards the frame of structure* forward roll over the edge.

If you do it right, and almost everyone does, you end up with your body hanging down, you hands gripping the rope with your thumbs pointing up, and it's easy then to hand over hand down the rope.

If you do it wrong, and one bloke managed this then this happens.

The guy crawled across the cargo net, grabbed the rope with his thumbs pointing the wrong way, and rolled over the edge. As he had grabbed the rope wrong, his arms tried to unfold in ways that they're not designed to, and there were two horribly rubbery pops as both his shoulders dislocated then a scream cut off by a thump.

He looked like a rag doll that had been chewed by a pit bull.

Hope you get the idea.

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Fri 8 Aug 2008, 2:37, 1 reply)