Today I'm going to share a few very embarrassing/painful (literally) stories, the only purpose being that I am a huge masochist. Also, things that embarrass/hurt me usually end up being hilariously funny to others. So, laugh if you want to. If you spare my feelings I owe you a cookie.
Story One: The Time I Ran Across The Gym Floor
I'm going to start this off with a statement of fact. I am the biggest klutz in the known and unknown universe. I know someone is going to make a rebuttal with 'No, you haven't met so and so'. And to that I say - Shut up, this is my blog, and if I say I'm the clumsiest, then I damn well am the clumsiest!
The whole reason behind my clinical lack of coordination is not in fact an inner ear problem. It just happens to be that I have a complete lack of awareness as to where my body is in space and in correspondence to objects around it.
Anyway, one day I was in gym with my friends Elliese, Jess, and Katherine. I have mentioned these three before. I happen to have a good majority of my classes with them and they are all quite a silly bunch. The problem is that whenever I'm around them, I laugh a lot and I lose all of the common sense I may or may not have. So this fateful day I was wearing flats instead of the sneakers required for participating in physical education. So I ran around wearing socks. Well, I slid around wearing socks.
But then I decided to lift my feet off the ground. This never bodes well for me. I fell on my knee and slid twenty feet on my ass. Basically, I fell, hurt myself, and slipped on the floor halfway across the gym. That is what I get for running in socks on a freshly waxed hardwood floors. Everyone in my class laughed. I thought I broke my knee.
In a related note, my knee is fine for those of you kind souls who were wondering.
End of Story One.
Story Two: The Scar Under My Chin
Disclaimer: This story is not my fault.
When I was a very young tot, I used to take baths with my older brother. Okay, before any of you scream 'INCEST!' (related note, does anyone else always spell insect incest? Or is that just me?) he's a year older than me. We were almost Irish Twins. It's not creepy. It was water-conservation.
Scene: Older Brother and I are rub-a-dub-dubbing (oh how wrong does that sound? I'm no changing it. Bask in the awkwardness. Bask in it.) in the tub. Our tub has a very large metal towel rack in it. I am a short chap. I'm standing, and it comes to just under my chin. Older brother tickles me. I lose my balance.
The doctors thought I broke my jaw. They were amazed I didn't. I have jaws of steel, like that James Bond villain. That being said, I still needed stitches. Those were my first *tear*.
But like I said, not my fault!
That is the story of how the scar under my chin came to be.
End of Story Two.
Story Three: I'm An Idiot.
I am. I really am. You will understand why.
I am a huge klutz, but while I am a klutz, I've never broken a bone. Knock of the wood of a thousand trees. Knock them so hard they turn into paper. But is is true, I have never broken a bone. I'd also never sprained anything.
Until that fateful day last July.
My friend Hannah, who is quite possibly my best friend, lives in a town at least five over, six up, and I don't see her often. So I'm not used to her new house, since she moved. When I was there in July, they had just moved, and it was one of my earlier visits to their house.
They have a very tall porch.
Like mondo tall.
Two feet off the ground. Huge.
So me being me, and having a lack of spatial awareness, I totally missed the steps to get down and fell *crack!* right on my ankle.
If you've ever sprained anything before, you know the feeling. Nausea, dizziness, really cold suddenly.
Well, I'd never sprained anything before. So I thought that I was fine.
Here is where the stupidity comes in.
I walked 8 miles, four there and four back, to the downtown store to get ice cream and cookie dough with Hannah's sister. And believe me, I knew my ankle was sprained at the end of that walk. It was so swollen, I couldn't walk for the next two days.
And here's the kicker. I had to work the next week, walking up and down hills and in the woods at a summer camp, chasing after sixteen six year olds.
To this day, my ankle is not the same.
I am an idiot. You can all say it.
End of Story Three.
Story Four: I Kissed Michael J!
I do not count this as my first kiss. Disclaimer.
So when I was five, I had a huge crush on a boy named Michael J. He was a year older than me. I've always liked them older. Anyway, during recess one day when I was in kindergarten, we were behind the big oak tree in the little play house and I kissed Michael J.
And after that I ran around the playground screaming 'I Kissed Michael J!'
None of my friends from that school have ever let me live that down. Whenever Hannah sees me she asks me how Michael is doing.
The sad thing is that he is even weirder than I am now.
And I'm pretty weird.
End of Story Four.
Story Five: I Don't Sleep Anymore
This is more recent. In the past two weeks, I have gotten about the minimal amount of sleep a human can run on without dying. Like three hours a night. It isn't fun. And I can't seem to stop. Again, idiocy. Stupidity. Whatever you want to call it.
End of Story Five.
I admit, Story Five was kind of a bust. I just wanted to have a nice number to end on. Five seemed good.
I hope you enjoyed my stupidity. I do. It's fun.
Yo momma so fat, yo momma so ugly, yo momma so stupid, Your mother's breasts sag with suck a severity that the late, great surrealist artist Salvador Dali mistook them for clocks.
Thank you Bo Burnham, for keeping it classy.
Feliz Cinco de Mayo, vosotros.
Me acuesto. Soy muy cansada.
Adios, hasta luego, come mis pantalones cortos.