Most people have awesome stories to go with the scars on my body. Not me. Mine are a testament to random events, and evil mundane objects.
I have a 3 inch scar right over my wrist from trying to put up cabinets while suffering from insomnia. Damn hear slit the vein.
I have a 2 inch scar on my left forearm from a guitar string that pierced the skin, and slid down with a guitar that fell over.
I have a scar on my knuckle from when I tried to get a lid out of a soup can, and the inner lip of the can cut all the way to the bone.
Then again, if I had used more than toilet paper and gauze tape to patch them up, they might have healed better.
