I swear, Mr. Zoom has said that.
I am hopelessly and painfully clumsy. I think the first sign of clutzocity to come was when I was 6, and walking home from school. I don't remember the incident itself, just the part where the doctor was stitching me up.
Apparently I went to take a step off of a curb, and landed with my chin in full contact of said curb - legs out behind me in the street.
How I managed to take a step and 180 around AND fall with my chin on the cement? I don't know. The woman who was walking me home from school that day couldn't even tell my mom how I had managed this. After gathering me up from the ground, I guess she saw the blood and knew it was not good.
All that time, I had no idea anything was amiss. Other than the fact that I had fallen down and my Mom was here "early". But it wasn't until I was horizontal on a steel table while the doctor poured antiseptic into my cut that I started to scream.
The rest of my life has been peppered with incidents of doh. There weren't any more stitches, but probably should have been:
The time I was playing with neighbor kids and managed to cut my palm with a rusty nail head that was in a fence I apparently tried to bounce off of. Right on my life line. Good thing I'm not into palm readings.
The time I was riding a motor scooter with a friend and we took a corner too tightly. I left ALL of the skin on the right side of my body there on the road. I also picked up some nice bits o' asphalt that Mom pulled out of my arms.
The time I was roller skating and fell down, chipping one of my huge front teeth. This wasn't much of a surprise, as I had the biggest overbite known to exist in such a tiny head. Ever.
Those were the big ones.
Since then, I've graduated to less mess of the bodily fluid kind and more mess of the items in my path of destruction kind.
And the bruising. I'm a leopard! Mr. Zoom is always asking me "where...what...how did you do THAT?"
My response is usually something like "Might have been when I walked into the wall and then rebounded into the corner of my desk two days ago?"
When we go into frou frou stores, or even regular people stores, I have to walk with my hands behind my back. I'm convinced my hands have a nefarious mind all their own and will fly out to knock over expensive items. As if the entire store were set up in a hidden domino style, just waiting for my hands to arrive and break free of my concentration.
And whoever thought all that convenient hyperlinking all over my computer desktop (either in e-mails, documents I'm working on or whatever else is clickable) at work was a good idea needs to be forced to administer computer support when I've accidentally clicked my way to either a frozen computer screen, or e-mails to the whole office that have nothing to do with anything.
OOOO! Or when Theresa or Rev. Brandy post some wonderful post, which links back to an older post. I suddenly forget where I am and leave a comment on the old post. Which is more appropriate for the recent post. And then I say:
"Of course I did that. Of course I did. It's me."
Other Chevy Chase Moments:
"Of course I hooked my scarf on the gate and nearly strangled myself. How could I possibly think wearing a scarf would be safe?"
"Of course I just came to a stop and my purse flew out of the passenger seat and landed contents askew all over the floor. Of course I can't reach it." Followed by "Of course my cell phone magically fell into this compartment in the truck door and I couldn't find it. There's only a 1 in 1gillion chance of it perfectly flying into that space, I had to know it was going to happen."
"Of course I just hung up on that caller while trying to answer my cell phone. I've only had this cell phone for 3 years, it's perfectly understandable that I still can't keep from hanging up on the people who call me."
"Of course I spilled coffee on my sweater not 30 seconds after buying it. There's already a coffee stain right about even with the girls where the coffee landed the last time I wore this."
I am human bumper cars. Enabled by Mr. Zoom, who unconditionally loves me, and occasionally laughs at me. Which keeps me from taking it all too seriously - because it reminds me to laugh at myself.