A few weekends ago I was attending the bachelor party of a good friend of mine. For the most part, it went pretty well. In fact, I remember it just like this. The problem is that my friend Justin, all of whose scenes were missing, at one point decided to leap onto my back and try to ride me like a horse, or some sort of man-sized dinosaur, presumably all the way to Mexico whereupon I would die from the exhaustive journey, and he would fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming the world record holder in donkey show participation. I have weird friends.
Alas, we didn’t make it to Mexico, but we did make it to the pavement, and said pavement took a sizable chunk of skin out of both of my knees. Justin, of course, had almost no recollection of this, so I have been taunting him about it mercilessly. Anyway, the scab (bleargh) has recently started to come off (double bleargh), but I didn’t realize how much until I got to work yesterday. After sitting at the computer for an indeterminate period of time I stood up to get my mail, or go to the bathroom, or something like that, and I had a painful sensation in my knee. I looked down and saw that my pants were attached to my leg. I tried to gently pull the pants away from my wound, but they were adhered through the scientific power of HEMOSTASIS! My stupid body thought my pants were also part of my body and so the pants were incorporated into the scab. After some tugging I managed to get my body and my pants separated, but the inside of my pants leg looked like the hive from Aliens. It was pretty gross.
So what would happen while my body is trying to bond with my wardrobe? My nose, of course, starts bleeding. But, I had the upper hand in this situation! Because my nose constantly bleeds in the summer and winter, I had previously prepared a nose-bleed plug of wadded tissue for just this type of situation. Well, I wasn’t really expecting to have grafted with my pants, but the nose-bleed I was expecting. Anyway, I jammed the tissue-plug up my nose, grabbed the area of my pants that were in danger of reattaching to my leg, and then hobbled around the office looking for someone with a bandage.
I must have been quite the sight, stooped over and holding my own pants while the tissue jammed up my nose slowly soaked with blood. I am quite the catch, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you. Mrs. ACW must thank her lucky stars every day for being the lucky lady that gets to walk around behind me and pick of the pieces that fall off.
I found a bandage without too much trouble and slapped it on there and my leg and nose seem no worse for the experience.
Hope you weren’t eating lunch.
Ugh, takes back to wild days outside as a kid, before my crippling social awkwardness and dislike of the outdoors drove me indoors, safe from skinned knees. I used to pick at scabs all the time. But the pants-skin merger is just gross.
I was eating breakfast, actually: cornflakes with strawberry milk and raisins, and, well, you plumb took away my appetite…
Damn ACW, it’s a good thing you’re a clotter. It could have been worse though. Had that been me, your drunken friend would have most certainly thrown out my back.
Not having had knee scabs for quite sometime now (in the fifth year of marriage anything that hereto may have caused knee scabbing is generally avoided), the scab-eating-my-tights/trousers phenomenon is but a distant yet painful memory. Nonetheless, the nose bleed just seems a bit excessive. Your body has a mean sense of humour.
I wonder why your nose bleeds all the time? Is it the cocaine?
Also, have you updated me in your blogroll? Well have you?
Jeez! If you’d told me you shit your pants when you stood up, I can’t say I would be surprised.
(In a sing song voice) Awesome. You are awesome.
i love it when my wounds eat my clothes. so sexy.
i get a lot of that post tattoo session, when i sleep on it.
I am sad, I no has link love from you.
BAND AIDS - do you use them motherfucker?
You CLEARLY have never had the equally wonderful experience of having a cut / scab / bite mark seal itself to a pair of pantyhose. Now THAT’S a good time.
Damn, dude. You sound like you’ve got the high-five. Take a friggin’ multivitamin or something.
I need to send you some nice glossy photos of my feet. Running has turned everything on the front half of feet into regurgitated hamburger. Really, blister city. My socks have been doing that binding thing for a while now, and really, there’s nothing sexier than doing a load of laundry that includes seven or eight pairs of bloody, sweat-stiffened socks. Hawt.
sheesh, he treats you like a man-sized dinosaur too? I thought that was only ME!
Do you have any IDEA how hard it is to stifle laughter when coworkers CAN SEE YOU?!? It is teh hard. HEMOSTASIS! almost gave me away.
Oh, and that happening with pantyhose SUCKS. BALLS.
Forget about joining the nerd legion, that story makes you their leader.
Your pants are obviously smarter than you are. Even THEY know a gaping wound is supposed to be bandaged.
Knee scabs after a bachelor party? ‘Nuff said.
One word; kneepads. Ounce of prevention and all that…
Oooh. I got all hammered once and fell on the sidewalk in front of my house thereby skinning my knee. I made it in the house only to pass out in front of the fridge. When I woke up the next morning, the ragged edges of the pants were melded in with the rest of my body. That was painful. I think there may still be some shiny blue material floating around inside of me.
“My nose, of course, starts bleeding. But, I had the upper hand in this situation!”
I think your “upper hand” is what got you in this mess in the first place. Maybe if your hand wasn’t involved, your nose wouldn’t bleed.
(Yes, I went for the obvious.)
Nope, not eating lunch per se, but I almost laughed my breakfast outta me. I want to keep that mental picture of you in my mind all day, in case I need a giggle.
While that’s a great story, the description of what the inside of your pants leg looked like made my stomach churn. (double bleargh)