Oh, goodness yes.
1) I was at a small gathering on NYE my freshman year in college and drank probably 5x what I should have. So the night goes on and we're all playing darts--the obvious entertainment choice of drunk teenagers, right?--and after my turn, I decided to go up and pull my darts out of the dartboard. The guy who was throwing after me wasn't paying attention, let one fly just as I got up to the board, and I ended up taking a dart to the head. The sad thing is that I barely felt it, which apparently made it
really funny to all of my friends, my standing there, saying, "What? You guys, what?!" with a dart sticking out of the back of my head while they're doubled over with laughter. I have a sweet little scar on the back of my head from that one.
2) I have a peach of a scar on my thigh from opening a Mickey Mouse Blues hockey bobblehead encased in blister packaging, but that was my fault because I got frustrated with trying to cut delicately and decided to
stab the package open. I missed.
3) Was out drinking with friends several summers ago and at the end of the (looong) night, we went back to my friend Val's house to spend the night. Her house is well over a hundred years old, and her parents have a lot of antique fixtures throughout it, especially with regard to door latches and things like that. For some stupid reason, we all decided to run through the front door and into the house, and as I raced past one of the doors, the protruding antique latch snagged the underside of my forearm and ripped about a 3-inch gash in it. Obviously, we weren't really in much condition to drive to the hospital, so Val decided that since we were both lifeguards and therefore trained in first aid, we'd take care of things ourselves. She said, "Well, the way I see it, we've got 2 options: I can wrap your arm with gauze, or we could try an alternate route and go with about 20 Band-Aids. You choose." That was when I started laughing so hard I fell off of the edge of the bathtub and smacked my head on the wall.
4) I also found out the hard way (twice!) that in the age-old battle of picnic table vs. forehead, picnic table always wins. Same goes for grocery cart vs. forehead. I'm surprised my parents weren't stalked by child protective services when I was between the ages of 2-5.