Welcome to Blood Week. We put out the call last week for your tales of of blood, violence, gruesome injuries, near-death experiences, mayhem, and blood. Many of you came through with submissions, which we'll be posting throughout the week. If you have a story and/or photos to share, email email@example.com, with Blood Week in the subject line.
That's Kyle N.'s forehead up there. This is what Kyle's forehead really looked like after a wrist shot ricocheted off of it. But it's not like this happened in some formal hockey setting. Oh, no. Take it away, Kyle:
Came back from a CAN/AM tournament in Atlantic City which is basically hockey mingled in with getting drunk and playing black jack all night till 6 am each night. Played our final game in AC at 12 on a Sunday and had leftover drink tickets so we went back to the bar post game. That was followed by a game in the championship series for our league back in Philly. Took the puck to the head with about 6 minutes left in the third. Just missed scoring a goal with my forehead by about two inches. Managed to semi-clot it up, finished the game still with no facemask. Almost got kicked out of the ER at midnight for being somewhat not sober. End result 6 stitches.
Michael E. has a story with a lesson: Never throw ice in the air around other people. And try not to be the one to catch it with your face. Especially if you work for a Congressman:
Its January of 2004, the night before the Super Bowl. I have been in DC for an internship for exactly 1 week. Myself, three friends and one dickbag of a guy (more on that later) are returning to Silver Spring, MD (classy I know) after a long night of drinking. We are all thoroughly intoxicated and I have the great idea of throw a snowball at one of the friends and take advantage of the recent unusual snowfall.. This friend in turn grabs some snow (we learned later it was a chunk of ice) lobs it in the air and somehow hits me directly in the face. Immediately, blood is pouring everywhere. Fearing some kind of trouble, dickbag guy flees (hence the moniker), sprinting down the street. The rest of us drunkingly assess the situation and eventually conclude that a hospital trip is order. Fast forward to the hospital: The doctor enters and immediately says "Whoa! You guys have been drinking" Right you are I reply. 13 stitches in my upper-lip later, I am mostly whole. The following Monday, I have to show my face around Capitol Hill with 13 VERY noticeable stitches and give a tour of the capitol building to a large group of 8th graders. The worst part? No one believed my explanation of the stitches and simply concluded I got my ass kicked and concocted the story, including the Congressman i worked for.
I was scalped when my head went through the window during a rollover crash. Amazingly, I didn't have another scratch on me. Pics are from the ER and the day after.
Rusty Chainsaw reminds us all to be really careful when giving your pet a haircut:
One summer a few years ago, my wife and I were trimming our 10 year old border collie, Jenny. The clippers we had at the time wouldn't go through Jenn's really long, thick coat, so we decided to use scissors to trim everything down and then take a clipper to the rest.
Quick background: When Jenn was just a puppy, she had her tail slammed in a door. This left 3-4 inches at the end of her tail at a really awkward right angle, and without feeling. You couldn't actually see it when she had any length of fur because it was just the tip (insert penis joke).
Anyway, we're about halfway done when I hear my wife exclaim "uh oh..." and then start backing away from the dog. At that point she was working on Jenn's tail and as I look down I see that she nicked the very end of it and blood was starting to drip out on the kitchen tile. This normally wouldn't have been a big deal- we would just clean the wound and bandage it, plus she wasn't feeling any pain. Since my wife and I both stopped trimming, however, Jenny figured we were done and it was time to play. She gets up and starts running around the living room with her tail wagging furiously. Blood is getting thrown everywhere across the walls and the carpet. I'm trying not to laugh at the absurdity of the whole thing, but my wife is screaming and chasing after her with a paper towel, trying desperately to wrap it around Jenny's tail. With all the commotion, Jenny of course thinks we're playing chase, so she grabs her favorite toy and starts running around the apartment, blood spraying like a Pollock painting all over the place.
We finally managed to get her back to the kitchen and bandaged up, but my wife suggested I finish the trimming and she would start on the cleanup. Jenn was fine.
David's friend Tyler drank too much. He then did a bunch of things he doesn't remember. His hand ended up looking like this. Here's how:
This past summer, my three roommates and I were in the midst of transitioning from a campus apartment to a new house located off campus. The first night we stayed in our new home we drank a few beer, and got a ride downtown to catch a Justin Moore concert. Later on in the night, we returned home and decided to have a some friends over. My eldest and craziest roommate Tyler insisted on going to Shoney's (although they were closed) and threw a fit because no one would take him. Tyler had been drinking Brandy all night and started drinking heavily after the Shoney's was shot down.
Before I continue, I must add that our new house is relatively close to three buddies of ours that we drink with pretty often. Located on their porch was a 52 inch projection TV that they were going to put in their living room but the tv no longer worked. One of them had called it a night early and when blackout Tyler found out, he decided to go wake him up.
We walk down the street and Tyler immediately starts banging on the door and no one answers. Tyler uproots a tiki torch from the neighbors yard and starts beating the front door with it. Soon enough, Tyler becomes severely upset at us for not yelling loud enough/beating the door with him and takes his anger out on the TV, via the tiki-torch. After hitting the TV a few times, Tyler spears the middle of the TV screen with the torch which engulfs the torch as well as Tyler's hand. Blood starts gushing everywhere as flesh is hanging from the side of Tyler's hand. We kick open the front door, call 911, and applied pressure to his wrist with a white bath towel (that eventually turned red from so much blood). While waiting on the ambulance Tyler is puking and struggling not to pass out. We get him in the ambulance, but weren't allowed in because we were not family. None of us were sober enough to drive and we were blacklisted from three cab companies that night. But we got him to safety and he now has a cool scar.