  I used to date this guy who was supposedly a brilliant playwright. A raging alcoholic, with an ego that was surely overcompensating, for his um deficits(which are so profound that I must mention them in the plural). Nevertheless, I remember hearing how one drunken evening, in a powerful display of brawn, he took a flower pot and bashed it over his head. So his friend (the humble drug-dealer) took him to the hospital where he got 9 stiches, which he removed 15 minutes later. Last time I saw him was at a party at SUNY purchase, from which he has been banned for starting fights with the cops.
When the party got broken up he "jumped" out the first floor window, to where the cops were waiting for him outside. I would assume he is either still an alcoholic who waits tables for a living, or he has gone to jail. My fondest memory of him (cause you know I'm a sentimentalist): In some kind of drunken stupor, we had the loudest sex imaginable (think porn with power-tools).
The best part was that it was a Tuesday during finals week. Just pissing off my roommate that much made it worth it ( her name was Tomoko, rhymes with hot cocoa, a joke she seemed endlessly amused by. ) Sidenote: His penis was so small, that I am only assuming from inference that he had one. (and I've seen him naked *shutters*) 
