Mark of the Devil

Disclaimer: I know that the majority of my blog audience is my mother (Hi mom!) and I would just like to point out that this entry is written in a light-hearted joking manner and that when the injury happened I was not being as reckless and potentially as intoxicated as your wild imagination may lead you to believe.

So last night I was marked by the Devil. That is literally the only explanation that can possibly exist for what I have discovered on my body.


Yes. That is a line of two consecutive second degree burns on my midriff. If you are confused, join the club. No one I was with last night nor I remember me coming in contact with anything that would have caused this. Let us go over my night, shall we?

9 pm: Put a skirt on <-- last time I was naked that I remember looking at my stomach and thinking "oh look, no burn marks"
9:30 pm - 1 am: have hygge time at Graces and watch the finals of Eurovision. In this time we had some drinks and talked and joked and overall just had a very pleasant time. I did not cook anything or go in the kitchen, however, THERE WERE CANDLES! (hint? clue? We don't know)
1am: walk to get Shwarma. I ate french fries, I remember that the french fries were hot but I do not know if they could have caused burns. Upon investigation my clothes show no signs of grease spots. There are also no singe marks, which possibly rules out candles from earlier.
1:30am: everyone else decides to get on a bus to go out to bars, in my wisdom I decide to walk home because I temporarily could not find my bus pass and since I did not know where I was I thought that walking would be a better idea. This logic was obviously flawed, but I am very lucky that I do idiotic things like this in Copenhagen where it is one of the safest big cities in the world instead of in other places where I could get into trouble. Then again, in any other city in the world I would have been able to afford a cab...
1:30am - 2:30am: Thankfully I soon realized that I knew exactly where I was as I walked past my favorite cemetery. I was stopped by some Danish men and I refused to talk to them in English, which is one of my favorite slightly tipsy games to play with Danes. I think one of them was smoking, but I do not remember him pinning me down to lift up my shirt to draw a line across my torso with his cigarette, so I am pretty sure we can rule that out. I stopped into Temple Bar to use the bathroom, there was no open flame there but there were some boys discussing indie bands sipping tea on a second hand couch. I love Temple Bar.
2:30 am: I arrive home and broke my key ring. Changed into pajamas. I did not cook. I did not have a lighter. I did not straighten my hair. Heck, I didn't even leave my laptop on long enough for it to get hot.
7:30am: I woke up and looked down at my stomach and freaked out.

I really do not understand what possibly could have happened. All day my friends and I have been playing "What if..." game which has been so amusing it seems almost worth it. I think that I will not make a habit of coming home with mysterious injuries, but it has been quite a day of intrige.