Growing up, my mom always said I was like a bull in a china shop. My parents sent me to many charm classes along the way. Charm classes are for Southern girls to learn to be genteel, walk with a book on our heads, and sit so we wouldn't develop spider veins on our legs.
Little did my parents know, I would grow up to be a punk rock chick with 12 earrings and (now) 4 tattoos and purple hair. But, I do have impeccable manners! I think that surprises people...how often I say "Excuse me" at the grocery or offer to help tiny older people reach that one can of beans on the top shelf.
So, I'm gracious, with good manners. But, that doesn't change the fact that I'm a klutz. As a teen, I took out both sides of my parents' garage trying to back a car out (their garage was oversized, too - how could I hit both sides??).
I routinely trip or fall or just spazz out at unknown times.
Last week, Buddy wanted some popcorn chicken. I threw them in the oven, on a sheet pan. When they were ready, I pulled them out, but knocked the corner of the pan on the edge of the stove above and 3 renegade nuggets went flying to the bottom of the oven.
Well, I couldn't have food bits on the bottom of my oven! (Southern, remember?)
I had to go after those 3 nuggets! I was wearing an oven mitt, but it wasn't very long. I had to reach UNDER the hot coils to retrieve the offenders. I ended up burning my right arm about halfway between my wrist and elbow. It's awesome. (NOT).
I keep putting oinkment on it and scar therapy cream, but it's very unsightly and it itches like a mofo.
If I was a model, this would be me:
I call this "The Baby Calf look". Totally me. And the reason I don't wear heels. I'm already tall enough.
I'll be sure to report on all the other ways I injure myself through my own stupidity in the future.
Have a happy Friday, hooligans!