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Of course there are the "boy was that ever dumb" drunk stories, but I think my best stupid story has to do with scissors and me.
When I was about four years old, I was playing school. "School" was over, so I picked up a small stack of books and a pair of those all metal blunt tip scissors and proceeded to run down the hall. Running and scissors, as legend would have it, don't mix. I tripped on a bump on the carpet and fell forward impaling my forehead on them. Of course a hospital visit and many stitches ensued. Fortunately the scar has faded enough that people don't notice unless I point it out or wrinkle my forehead.
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Go Illini!
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