When I was 25, I got chased down a driveway by a few security dogs (dobermans) while under the influence of killer kool-aide and a 40 of vodka, one bit my arm pretty good, the rest ate up my coat, while running I slipped and fell on a patch of ice and messed up my knee pretty good (still fucked up till this day), tore my mini skirt and thigh high stockings. Then dude that owned the dogs finally called them off, after I started swearing at them loud enough, (because they made me spill the rest of my vodka) brought me inside, bandaged me up, offered me some coffee, at which point I barfed all over him, his couch and carpet. Ah well he still called me a cab and I got home ok, next day my friends were calling me like mad, wondering what happened to me, I still don't know how I ended up on that road.