So I was riding my bike around in the grass. The tires go through this thick, viscous puddle of mud and are coated in this goo, but I didn't fret. A little mud is harmless, right?

Nope. I continue riding whilst performing my usual crazy acts on the bike. One sharp turn to the right and I'm down! My knees are scarred by a cheese-grater effect with the pavement, and two pedestrians are shocked from what they witnessed.
I hobble back to my dorm with a bloody knee and a muddy tire. My first stop was the showers to clean the scrapes. This hurt like a fucking fucker on fuck day after fucking far too many fucking times (excuse the profanity).

So, after a little while of recovery, I get bored. I feel the urge to ride my bike again. So I head down to the bike rack and mount my Schwinn.
My boredom increases after a leisurely ride, so I decide to do some more crazy stuff. I head for the grass, jump over a curb, and CRASH!!!!OHNOES!!!FUCKSHITMOMMY!!?!

Apparently my left leg couldn't hold myself stable while going over the curb. I loose stability on the right, compensate to the left; too much compensation. My bike lands on my left knee before my knee hits the ground.
Still at a constant speed, with the bike forced upon my leg, my knee scraps against the curb. This scrapping continues for a meter until I come to a stop.

Another trip to the showers (FUCKSHITGODDAMMITHURTS!!?!?!!), a smearing of peroxide and alcohol (()&*()&)@#&*$*)&#@(&$(*!!!!!FUCK; so loud my RA Sean comes in to see what is happening and leaves just as quickly because of the profanity), and my body is incompassitated ever since. Epic scabs and epic story telling though.