K is for Klutz

You know what really ticks me off? When people try to say that a girl being a klutz is cute.

It's not cute. It's a fecking pain in the arse.

Mostly I can blame it on the vertigo. I have no balance, and even when I think I can manage standing upright without a problem, sometimes my brain likes to play Let's Go Sailing Now and

I used to love shoes. I still love shoes. But I can no longer wear high heels. I have finally reached a point where I can accept this. I used to enjoy haunted houses on Halloween as well, but then a couple years ago after going through one of those spinning rooms

I spent the next 6 hours vomiting and fighting a raging headache, and the next two days in bed because I couldn't even stand up.

Part of it may also be a lack of hand-eye coordination. Lots of people complain that they have some issues with that. That they have *bad* hand-eye coordination.

Try having almost NONE.

A good chunk of the time, when I go to pick something up, I end up hurling it across the room. I have injured people doing this. I have broken windows and walls. I have lost things forever.

And a big problem resulting from vertigo + lack of hand-eye coordination: carrying things. 

Just carrying anything in general. If I need both hands to carry something, my balance goes out the effing window. Like seriously I have almost died on several occasions because I needed to carry a box from one side of the room to the other.

Some people try to tell me this can be a good thing. I can play the damsel in distress, right?

NO.

I never look like the damsel in distress. I just look like a fool.

I've got more guts than I've had guidance; I search for sense, but I find silence

I think my newer cat, Poison Ivy might be slightly *challenged*.

I tried finding an interactive cat intelligence test like that one Hyperbole and a Half used on her dog, but have not found one that will assist in proving my theory.

I love my cat. The fact that she's a little slow makes me love her even more because it makes her more adorable. Like when she gives me that blank stare.

she cannot grasp that counters and tables are not for sitting or sleeping

Or when she displays her total lack of grace and balance.

It always begins with up to 20 seconds of this, complete with strange noises. Ivy makes lots of strange noises.

and miscalculations

 

and skidding across various surfaces

and lots of flailing

I'll just say that it's a good thing she seems to have a rock-hard skull. 

She likes sleeping in the dryer.

She really likes sleeping in sinks, too. Not sure why.

(She used to fit in the sink, before she got really fat.)

and steal my breakfast

Now, not so much.

This one time, Poison Ivy set herself on fire.

Ivy, despite her size, is still basically a child. She wants to play, so she while I'm doing my makeup, she does everything in her power to get my attention. Usually this means playing fetch.

Not kidding--she'll bring me her fav toy (twistie-ties from the bin bags) and I'll throw it into the other room, and then she'll run and chase it and bring it back so I can throw it again.

And again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

If she gets bored doing that or if I take too long throwing the twistie-tie, she'll jump up on the counter to knock all my makeup onto the floor.

Sometimes I leave scented candles on the lid of the toilet while I'm doing my makeup, so my bathroom can smell like a pine forest.

I have tried demonstrating to Ivy that flames = burning, but she has failed to grasp this. Instead of going floor-->toilet seat-->counter, this one Saturday she decided to stay on the toilet seat and sit there.

And she sat on the candle.

I heard a sizzling, crackling sound and looked down

and Ivy's tail was on fire.

And Ivy was just standing there while I shrieked and panicked, like she had no idea why I was flipping out.

Thankfully, she has thick enough fur that the fire was extinguished with no injuries. Burning cat hair is a truly horrific stench.

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh.

I think I have a cavity or something.

:*(

It's been there a while actually. The tooth began its betrayal by getting more and more sensitive to things like hot and cold and toothbrushing.  Now there is actual pain. BASTARD TOOTH WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BEHAVE LIKE ALL THE OTHERS??

 I have no dental insurance. A cleaning/check-up alone is like $200.00 or more. And then add the cost of whatever they have to do to fix the rogue tooth. That is money I do not have, which means I will have to put it on a credit card, which--on top of several other unforeseen expenses recently--means that I AM NEVER GOING TO HAVE THE FINANCIAL MEANS TO MOVE FAR AWAY FROM HERE.

This makes me more depressed than I can articulate in words.

Sure I suppose I can always be my own dentist. The pliers and copious amount of alcohol are much cheaper than an actual dentist.

Speaking of medical procedures for which I do not have money, I may need to scrape some money together for the cat scan my doctor wants me to get....

A couple weeks ago, I was in the shower and all of a sudden thought that the house was shaking. I nearly ran outside with naught but a towel until I opened the shower door and saw Lil Sis's bottles of perfume lined up on the counter.

In an earthquake, liquids in bottles will generally move about. Not sit perfectly still.

The earthquake was in my head.

That realization did not make it go away. It actually got worse about 2 seconds later, and I had to sit down in the shower for the next ten minutes because it felt like I was on a boat during a hurricane and I couldn't stand up. Since then, I have been on my own private sailing trip. The vertigo never goes away now. Some days it gets really bad and I can't do anything except lie down and pop Dramamine to lessen the motion sickness.

Like today at work, for example. I fell off my chair this morning. I feel like Liza Minelli in Arrested Development. 

Ugh.

The bullet is enormous, there is no escaping!

A couple people have inquired about the boy on whom I was crushing a while back, and since there were so many crush-posts, I suppose I owe an explanation.

Nothing happened with the boy. I presume I scared him off after that horrific first date. I guess he just wasn't interested. That's why the last shore trip wasn't as fun as it could have been--the boy was there the whole week. And he was totally nice and fun to hang out with and everything, but he definitely does not seem interested in pursuing any kind of relationship.

So yeah I was really really kind of upset about the boy, because I really really liked him.

I don't know what to do with those kinds of emotions. My brain gets all befuddled.

 So what do you do when you find a new weird thing and don't know what it is? What anyone who never matured emotionally past the preoperational stage would do.

My neurons poke it with a stick.

 That kind of hurts.

But I still don't understand it.

So it gets poked some more.

But I think I'm done wallowing. I don't hold with that sort of thing anyway. Softness in the head and whatnot. WEAK.

...In the end, though, if he was frightened by just one falling episode, I suppose it's good he stopped calling. Because I tend to fall down A LOT. Vertigo is the official diagnosis, mainly because Doc doesn't know what else it could be without a barrage of tests that my health insurance will not cover. 

At least once a day, I will be walking or just going about my merry way, and all of a sudden it feels like the ground just tipped sideways. 

You try remaining upright. It's impossible. 

Which is why it makes me giggle whenever I hear someone use that cliche of "getting back on the horse." Because it was getting back on a literal horse that resulted in me getting thrown off again and sustaining the head injury that I'm pretty sure is responsible for nearly all of my medical complaints, chiefly the vertigo. 

Airplanes and carnival rides intensify the ground-instability by like 300%. Trains and buses, too. I cannot walk around while the train is moving. The vertigo now reaches the point of extreme motion sickness and blinding headache.

But for some reason, the vertigo is completely cured on boats. 

Therefore, I must find me a rich man with a nice yacht. Or even better, a schooner. There's some delicious ones on ebay. I find this one to be to my liking:

This one's even better!!!

and it's only like $4 million. 

My Little Pony giveaway coming in the next post!! I'm gonna go back to trawling round the Amazon discussion forums. People are cray-cray!!!


<3

How My Date Went

...or, How To Make a Complete Fool of Yourself in 2 Hours or Less.

Before we talk about that....

Congratulations, kids. Nearly every single one of you is a sociopath. The only exceptions were Invisible Ninja, missinsanity, Sam, Lina, Jenn, and Honor. While none of you six delicious creatures are even within firing range of Normal, you are apparently not potential serial killers. :D

I had not anticipated so many fellow sociopaths. …Although the first time I heard that question, I answered that OBVIOUSLY the Sister was getting it on with the dude, so the Woman killed her in a fit of jealous rage. A friend and I heard the question at the same time and both gave that answer, and he is even more of a sociopath than I am (complete with a childhood of setting fires and killing small animals for fun).

Because I enjoyed the non-sociopath answers as well, you may all have a prize if you’d like one! Drop me a line in the affirmative, and sendeth your mailing address here, anonymously if you like. I have not gathered the prizes yet, but I’m sure I’ll find something exciting. There may be a dollar store excursion involved. 

Ok so date-recap! 

Boy texted me on Monday and asked if I wanted to do something Tuesday night. We decided on a movie, possible drinks/dinner if there was time. 

I managed to contain the anxiety until about half an hour before he arrived at my house. Then I began to panic. What the heck was I going to wear?!? I felt too fat for a skirt. Plus it was raining and humid out, so skirt seemed like a bad idea. But my 00 Express jeans felt a bit snug around the middle. 

Cue panic attack.

Eventually settled on the 00 jeans, a nice flowery camisole with a black cardigan, and at Little Sis's insistence, a nice pair of cute stripey high-heeled sandals. 

Despite the fact that I felt enormous, kind of wobbly in heels because I haven't worn really high heels in a while, and self-conscious because the rainy weather makes my hair frizzy, I managed to leave the house without having a nervous collapse.

Kazehana helped. <3

I get free movie tickets at certain cinemas, but of course none of those were playing any decent films at decent times, so we decided to go to the Palisades Mall. We ended up going to see Horrible Bosses (boy didn't seem too keen on Cowboys & Aliens, which would have been my first choice...). We had like half an hour to kill before the movie started, so we grabbed a couple drinks at the bar/restaurant near the theatre. 

Boy is quite the gentleman. I did not open a door at all on our date. Even the car door--he practically flew out of the car when we got to the mall to open my door before I could do it myself. And at the bar he even pulled out my chair before I sat down. This is a very nice change from the last bunch of boys I've gone on dates with, all of whom more or less tried to molest me on the first date. 

So at the bar we each had a shot of Jameson and a beer, and then I got a diet soda before we went into the movie. I should have known better, because even without extra beverages I need to pee like every 15 minutes. I tried to hold it, but towards the last quarter of the film, I needed the loo.

I hate running out of the theatre in the middle of a film. Even when I try to be stealth, I feel like there's a spotlight on me.

Remember in that last post, how I bemoaned the fact that the Universe really likes to kick you when you're already down? Well, the Universe, or God, or Satan, or perhaps all of them decided to take the opportunity presented by me attempting to leave the theatre as quietly as possible. 

The heel of my shoe broke. The heel of the left shoe. And my foot had fallen asleep. 

When you have sprained, broken, and tendon-f*cked your ankle as many times as I have, a disruption such as a broken shoe is not something from which you can quickly recover.

The heel fell out from under me. My ankle then fell out from under me. This happens somewhat frequently (I fall down a lot because my ankle just randomly collapses). But when walking across the front of a crowded movie theatre, you kind of don't want to fall down. So in attempting to remain upright, I managed to make my fall to the floor about 100x as dramatic. 

-_________________-

I wasn't kidding when I said that people like me should just not be allowed out in public.

Other than the epic fail, the date was rather nice. And boy wants to do something on the weekend, so hopefully that means I haven't scared him away with my total lack of coordination.