Yeah. That says epic FALLS. Not epic FAILS. But this is really both…
I am not graceful. I cannot make it through a day with out tripping over, or running into, an inanimate object. My legs are never tanned and glowing visions of perfection, no my friends, I wear scrapes and bruises like badges of honor. It’s how I roll – with a little less roll and whole lot of tumble. And here, for the first time ever, are my top 5 Epic Falls. You’re welcome.
1. Age 4 “Handerpants”
I am also not a fan of wearing pants by the way. When I’m hanging around the house, I wear shorts for a modicum of modesty.
Benajmin and the BFF’s know that it’s usually a t-shirt and undies – and I reject all the “for shame”s headed my way, sorry y’all, I’m lettin’ my freak flag fly – proudly. I’ve been this way…always. And it cost me dearly at the tender, balance-challenged, age of 4 years old. For some reason, I was running around the house in just my undies – I don’t know exactly why, probably escaping from bath? (Wimbledon uses this same tactic – turn on the tub, and he starts taking laps around the house at warp speed). Anyway, in addition to running sans shirt/shoes/pants ’round the house, I also evidently thought it would be great to stick my arms through the sides of my undies so as to mostly imitate the high speed running style of a penguin. We ALSO had this really amazing, really SOLID stone step that went from the living room to the dining room. Kayso, remember that time I said I trip over inanimate objects daily? I also trip over invisible things. I believe this started at age four. Because what happened, arms through sides of undies, is an invisible beast of epic proportions rose it’s scaly hand through the living room carpet, grabbed my ankle, and sent me flying chin first into the stylish stone landing pad that was the entrance to the dining room. I still have a scar. I no longer run through my house, or anyone else’s, with my arms stuck through the sides of my skivvies. That’s called learning.
2. Age 10 “Trees are Tricky Bitches”
I have boy cousins. Therefore, I learned to build a lean-to fort before I had even heard of a curling iron. And on the family summer vacations, I did whatever the boys did, because outside is my favorite toy – and they came up with better ideas than I did. So that’s how I ended up about 13 feet up in a decrepit old pine tree chasing after my older cousin who was, like, NINETY feet ahead of me. Just for background – pine trees are really easy to climb; you see, the limbs grow close together. But those same limbs aren’t always very strong, especially when they’re all sorta dried out, and being stomped on by a 10 year old who is madly chasing after her older cousin who is ALWAYS better at all things cool and amazing. So I’m summiting the thirteenth foot of my adventure, when my actual food lands a little too hard on a branch, and down, down, down I go – hitting every last damn branch on the way down. Now thirteen feet is the longest fall EVER when you’re three and a half feet tall – so I was utterly ASTOUNDED to still be alive when I hit the ground. Which was mockingly soft with pine needles. Like I said, trees are tricky bitches. I go to brush myself off, and realize my left side feels like it is on fire. Because the tricky tree has torn a gaping shark-bite-esque flesh wound in my side – or so it would seem to the eyes of a 10 year old. I promise you, there was minimal actual blood loss. It must’ve actually been kinda bad though, because my mom flipped when she found me, and 22 years later I still have a distinctive white scar on my left side. I do still climb trees. That’s called learning, and being okay with the consequences.
3. Age 15 “Mountains Will Win Every Fight, Every Time”
I learned to ski at a very early age, because my parents were adamant about my sister and I experiencing things in the world –
which turned out to be AWESOME. Kate and I had no use for ski class though – as soon as Momma and Daddy dropped us off, we’d raise our hands to be excused to the bathroom, point our skis down hill and let momentum carry us straight to the bottom of the run. Without turning. Stopping only at the fence that marked the beginning of the lift line. So by age 15, going balls to the wall down a blue level run was a morning warm-up, or ya know – just fun as hell. To this day I’m still not sure what happened. I was upright, and then I was definitely not…it was more of a…rotation. When I finally stopped, I had left a Jamie-sized swath of dips and debris down the latter half of the run. My ski jacket was filled with snow, as was my mouth, and I wasn’t wearing skis. Or goggles. And I only had one glove. As I was clearing the fog from my head, this really kind gentleman gently stopped in front of me, and handed me one of my skis. I smiled a thanks, and asked if he’d managed to spot the other one so I could fetch it. He replied, “Dunno about that love, I pulled this one out of a tree”. NICE.
4. Age 30 “Flat Jackassery”
Benjamin’s and my 3rd date was at IKEA. He wanted to buy some new furniture for his personal bedroom because we of course did not yet have the cooperative bedroom, and enlisted my help. What!?! Color-coordinating, organizing, and labeling things!! YES!! I will bring tape, highlighters and my label maker thank you very much!! At the time, Benjamin had this GINORMOUS desk that took up the entire corner of his room. He was essentially using it as a drafting table/easel for this fantastically large canvas he was working on (it’s an amazing painting by the way). However, he didn’t have a desk chair. So in the warm embrace of IKEA, we cruised on over to the rolly-chairs department to choose his perfect match. And that’s when IKEA turned on me, the fickle bitch. I saw this hilarious rolling chair/barstool that had a saddle-type seat on it. So of course I decide to hop on it, and make a snarky cowboy comment in front of my hot date. And I do hop, but I do not land, as envisioned, on the barstool. Nope. That little sucker shoots right out from under my ass and I land smack flat on the floor, spread-eagle, in front of my cute guy and about 5,000 Frisco residents. And do I get up? No, I start laughing so hard Benjamin has to peel me off the floor by one arm. And that’s called love y’all, because that was the first, but not the last, of many many many others- and he still comes home every night. It’s kind of a miracle.
5. Age 32 ” I might be on YouTube”
In my efforts to regain strength and muscle mass after all my stroke/heart hole mess that I’ve been dealing with over the past half a year,
I’ve been hitting the pavements of the local neighborhoods to get some cardio in. And because we have a moderately obese Chocolate Lab named Izzy – who routinely manages to magic entire loaves of bread and/or jars of peanut butter into her belly without sound or movement – she comes with me. Because we BOTH have a lot of work to do. Thus, our routine is to cross out of our neighborhood, to the super nice one across the main road, walk down to their park, do a lap, run the length of the park, then return home. We have accomplished this flawlessly at least 14 times. Until 2 weeks ago. Two weeks ago Mother Nature threw a wrench into our routine by adding – wait for it – a squirrel. Izzy and I cross the bridge that marks the point where we start running. We commence the dash, and we’re both running gleefully at top speed through the grass – life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness!! Then, just as I reach a speed where my toes are barely touching the earth, Izzy hits the improbability drive, zeroing in on that squirrel and taking it up to fifty, maybe sixty, thousand miles an hour. My feet actually left the ground. A “NO!” barely escaped my lips before I was airborne, and parallel with the grass that was no longer my friend. I landed so hard my glasses flew off. I landed so hard, my dog stopped chasing the stupid ass squirrel and came back to check on me. I laid there face down like a slug until Izzy’s dog nose brought me somewhat back to life. And I frigging kid you not, every mother and skateboarding teenage boy in Denton County was in the park that day. When I finally looked up, there were still 4 people who had failed to start moving again. There is no way I got away with that. It’s on YouTube somewhere, I just know it. And when you find it my friends, please, be kind.