why must i be so tortured and dumb?
So this morning I got up early, got dressed and ready to go early, and remembered that I was almost out of gas, so I left the house early, got to the gas station, got a bottle of water, didn’t even complain when someone cut in front of me because I was early, and then stepped up to make my purchases.
I needed ID to write my check.
I had left my wallet at home.
So, I drove back to my apartment to pick up my wallet which I had left on the table in a pile of things that I “didn’t want to forget” so I had put them in this pile right where “I know I’ll see it.”
I just do a lot of stupid things. I do. I can’t help it. It’s a combination of stupidity and a complete lack of coordination.
In the car
It is almost embarrassing the amount of times that I have gone to look behind me in the car and smack my forehead on the window.
I will pull up next to a car and do that mimey-talky “can-i-get-in-front-of-you” dance that we do even if both of our windows are rolled down.
I will get into a pointing “no, you” match at a four-way intersection.
I often try and fit into parking spaces that a tricycle couldn’t cram into.
I often forget to take the lap belt off before I try and spring from the car. And my first thought is never that the seat belt is on, but rather some bizarre force is holding me to the seat, like when you lean back against a wall like you are sitting in an imaginary chair and someone can hold you there with one finger on your forehead.
(i watched a lot of Mr. Wizard…)
In the kitchen
I am always stepping in a puddle of water caused by me leaving an ice cube on the floor. At the end of the day I have nine wet socks lined up in a little row near my laundry basket (note near, not in. Wet socks are so vile that I throw them near the basket, and I’m concerned about mildew, so I don’t let them join their friends in the basket club).
If the refrigerator door won’t close, rather than open the door and move some things around, I will get my shoulder in and jam that shit shut, often crushing some of the world’s largest pizza boxes.
I have been known to accidentally use confectioner’s sugar instead of flour…
I always measure the wet stuff before the dry stuff and then the dry stuff sticks to the glass from the wet stuff and the measurement is all off.
There is a part of the desk that hangs down between my two machines. Every single day I smack my thigh on it turning from one machine to the other.
I have a desk lamp that illuminates absolutely nothing, but if it’s not on I don’t feel like I’m at work.
I am under the illusion that when I am on the phone, no one can hear me but the person on the other line.
I sometimes wait an extra hour to go to the bathroom because “it’s such a far walk from my desk.”
I bring sixteen CDs to work with me every day, but I only listen to one and then the second one is on “pause” all day long. If I ever get around to listening to more than one, I hate every CD that I brought and I get depressed that I have nothing to listen to.
Often, for no reason at all, my brain will convince me that I can fly and that I’ll be fine if I jump off the stage.
My brain has also been known to convince me that pretending the stage was a giant slip and slide wouldn’t hurt– oh, and that I only weigh nine pounds, so anyone could catch me if I was flying through the air.
When I don’t know what to do, by body will either bend into a yoga pose, pantomime opening a cabinet on the far left bottom side of the stage, or pace back and forth as if I am waiting on a woman in labor. I don’t know why. I cannot stop it.
I have been under the delusion that my impersonations are so flawless that the audience doesn’t want to clap or applaud because they are afraid the magic of the moment will be gone.
There is a sketch that I do where I fall. Everyone thinks that I am doing a prat fall. I have never fallen on purpose in that scene. Every time we do it (nearing fifty or sixty times, now), I fall in the same way in the same place, often while saying to myself, “I’m not going to fall this time.”
I have a watch that I wear that has a scratched up face. I can never tell what time it is if it is around one o’ clock.
I have had a tiny scab on my left arm for three months. This is because it drives me so crazy that as it gets closer to healing I get impatient and rip it off.
I have yet to get out of my car with my bag around my shoulder without being strangled by the seat belt.
I only dry and curl my hair on days that it rains, so that way when the curls turn instantly limp I can blame it on the weather and not my lack of beautician talent.
I will walk into a restaurant fully planning on ordering a salad, but then talk myself out of it because it doesn’t come with fries.
I will only eat ketchup on fries that taste like potatoes, and are really thick fries (like chips), but not on anything else.
I feel that I am not getting the most out of my value meal if I don’t super size it.
I will get a double meat-double cheese bacon burger with a large diet coke.
in the bathroom
I always forget something outside the shower, and have to get out during the shower and get it. After the shower when I get out, I slip in the puddle that I had made when I got out earlier.
If the tip of the toilet paper has rolled off the roll far enough that it touches the floor, rather than rip that square off and start fresh, I will fold that tainted square into the middle of the wad of toilet paper so I know it won’t touch my privates.
I just called it a tainted square. That’s some funny shit. Oh, I did it again. Toilet puns. Nothing better.
I don’t know what eyelash curlers do or how to use them, but every once in a while I’ll push mine over my eyelids and think that I’m doing something good for myself.
So, as you can see, I’m doomed to a lifetime of smacking myself in the head and saying, “Why did I do that?” And with every time that I say to someone in the troupe–
I know that with each and every day I get closer and closer to becoming my mother.