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Sunday, February 12, 2006 :::

Bloody Hell

I got two stitches in my scalp last Friday after this stripper hit me in the head with a beer bottle. Or at least that's what I'm going to tell people. Actually, the stitches are from the doctor after I got a little bump removed from my scalp on Friday afternoon. It was a tiny little bump that was buried past my hairline, so it was virtually invisible and undetectable by anyone except me. But apparently I am too vain to live with something like that on my head for the rest of my life. So it's gone, replaced by two stitches of blue nylon thread.

Then later that evening, I went out to celebrate my friend Ashley's birthday, but I arrived late and my friends T-Bone and Lambert were already well into that "I love you, man," drunk phase, so there were lots of group hugs, loving head pats, and innocent love taps. I kept reminding them to avoid yanking my stitches, but they were beyond retaining useful information at that point.

Eventually we left that bar to visit another, and after dropping some friends off at the front door of the establishment, I went to park my sweet Hyundai ride in a downtown ramp. On the long elevator ride back up to the ground level, these two guys were both staring at me silently. I got nervous until one finally broke the creepy silence and said, "Dude, you got blood all over your forehead."

Slightly embarrassed, I walked to the nearest restroom imagining a small crimson drop at my hairline, but when I looked in the mirror I saw a big mess of smeared crusty blood that covered half of my brow. Apparently my stitches were no longer doing their job. The levies had been breached. I quickly wiped myself clean and high-tailed it outta there.

All I know is that if I saw some messy-looking loner in a downtown parking ramp elevator with a forehead covered in smeared blood, I would probably think "Holy crap that dude must be crazy," but I'd keep it to myself. I certainly wouldn't make eye contact. So I guess I should be glad I got noticed when I did because the next stop was supposed to be a sing-along piano bar, and I doubt it would've been cool to sing/shout "Jeremiah was a bullfrog..." with a blood-smeared forehead. Actually that probably wouldn't have been cool even without the blood. Either way, I'm grateful. And no, I didn't take a picture of it.

It's also kind of embarrassing that the first bar we attended was a trendy downtown restaurant that is frequented by local celebrities and news anchors, who I tend to obsess about. So it's very possible that Rick Kupchella from our local NBC affiliate, who happened to be sitting at the table right next to us, had his appetite ruined by the sight of my blood-smeared forehead. Or maybe I should be proud of that. I dunno.

That was a pretty disgusting post.

I actually have been hit in the face with a beer bottle by a stripper before, but that's a whole different story and fortunately it didn't require stitches, and someday I plan on James-Freying that little tale into a full-fledged docu-novel.


::: posted by dan at 1:39 PM :: [ link ] :: (21) comments Social Bookmark Button

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21 previous comments:



How long have you been trying to work that James Frey reference into you blog, huh? Good job...it almost seemed natural but I think it is too soon. In another week I might not have called you out on it.

By Blogger brent, at 6:36 PM  




so t-bone and lambert are blind..or were they just blind drunk? what..they could't see the blood?
Down here in the south we would tell anyone in a heartbeat they had blood all over their face, and then go into great detail about our last excursion to the e.r. Maybe even help them out with kleenex, a mirror and some triple antibiotic ointment. friendly folks we are. jill

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 7:26 PM  




Sorry about the bloody forehead. At AA we would have told you about the blood. Come to a meeting and see how truthful we are with ourselves and each other.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 7:51 PM  




T-bone and lambert so saw your blood and thought it was funny. They are probably taking credit for kicking your ass... Those guys suck...

Seriously dude you roll me...

By Blogger the other sarah, at 1:08 AM  




I so just got your title... I'm so slow...

By Blogger the other sarah, at 1:09 AM  




Something sort of like that happened to me once. Cept I was only 7. My brother and I were fighting in the backseat of the car and he smacked me in the nose with a rolled up magazine. I went all numb. Thick blood was oozing out all over my face - and my brother went to give me the "evil eye" but when he caught sight of my face he looked all terrifed. I thought I had finally mastered my own stink eye - until my Mother turned around and saw me. All hell broke loose at that point. Pretty funny considering I totally didn't feel it and I think he was grounded for like 3 weeks. 10 points for little sister.

By Blogger elizabeth, at 6:51 AM  




brent--he had to do it now, since that loser frey will be forgotten completely within a few weeks.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 8:17 AM  




No way, he will always be the "guy that scammed Oprah." ALWAYS. Poor Oprah.

By Blogger brent, at 10:30 AM  




Obviously getting patted on the head by drunkards is not good for stitches. But also you'd bleed more with alchohol in your system as it is a blood-thinner.

(No, I am not a med student trying to be all smarty.)

Erik

By Blogger The Artist Extraordinaire, at 10:32 AM  




Wow, I have been reading your blog for about 4 months now. I have even told all my friend about the humor that you spew on here. I find myself laughing out of control must of the time. Although today while going through my normal process of eating lunch and reading your blog I came across this "bloody mess". Not thinking I began to read as I eat my reddish tinted chili. As I finished the story I noticed that I had eaten my chili in record time. Could that be a problem?

By Anonymous Jason, at 11:53 AM  




You could just tell people you were accidentally shot in the head by Dick Cheney...

By Anonymous Josie, at 12:55 PM  




yep, that was indeed disgusting. I had a similar experience but my excuse was that I was 6. my horse bit me in the forehead. not even my own mother noticed, and she was there! he bit me right above my hairline, and I had bangs and brown hair and i kept complaining until she actually looked at me, closely, and saw the bloody divet. I still raise that issue when I want her to buy me a new handbag that I can't afford. so far two Kate Spades (on sale)and one fake Gucci.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 1:56 PM  




Is T-bone trying to tickle you? or someone else? I guess that is "i love you man" drunk.

You do seem like you'd be ticklish

By Blogger the other sarah, at 3:19 PM  




Iím not so sure how badly I feel for the anonymous poster that was bit by her own pony, and will no doubt have a lifetime supply of free Kate Spade handbags. Iím just sayiní.

By Blogger Kristina, at 5:18 PM  




truthful- genius comment if fake.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 8:34 PM  




Dan, why don't you just admit you're powerless over alcohol. Wandering around DT Mpls at night by yourself in a drunken haze bleeding from your head is just not safe. If you die a lot of people will be bored as hell at work.

By Blogger stsundown, at 11:05 AM  




Wait...something unusual happened in your life, brent was present and drunk (a golden opportunity for snapshots), and there is no photographic evidence?!!?

I was also waiting for that Frey reference, now I know it's officially dead in the water.

By Blogger Elle Marie, at 3:46 PM  




first - I'm so glad that anonymous poster is getting help in AA...

second - loved Josie's Dick Cheney comment

and I think you would have to be hit up-side da head to want to sing Jerimiah was a Bullfrog...but alcohol was involved..

By Blogger pixelala, at 4:58 PM  




I totally feel Joe's pain. I also have had the bloody 11 shirt from running.

Band-aids. You know the little circle ones that no-one uses? Perfect for the nips.

Unless your big, lummox friend has silver-dollar nips. Which, if he does, means he needs to call me.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 10:40 AM  




um, why did it take two total strangers in a parking garage to notice the (dried, crusty) blood on your face? Why didn't your friends notice? or the waiters at the swanky restaurant? and not even a glance in the rearview mirror of your hyundai to check your hair? c'mon, is this story for real?

By Anonymous lola, at 3:39 PM  




I tried to figure out a timeline of the evening, so I could know exactly when my head started bleeding. I know I used the bathroom at the first restaurant about half an hour before we left and there was no blood. My friends don't remember seeing blood, although they also don't remember leaving the first restaurant or arriving at the second, so I'm not sure that I trust their judgment. I don't know why I didn't look in the mirror, though, except that I was in a hurry and I usually don't check my hair like that.

But yes, it happened.

By Blogger dan, at 12:55 AM  




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