Tuesday, June 29, 2010

You Are Done

Yes, there is going to be a picture of me for every post from now on. If you look close you can see my fat lip.

When I was nine years old I had a disastrous summer. I don't know if I was going through a growth spurt, and my body and mind couldn't keep up with each other, but it wasn't pretty. First, while driving my cousin's toy car, I panicked and ran straight into a bolder, which caused major damage. Then a week later, while running up to my uncle's sports car to say hello, I burned my skin against the exhaust pipe, that ran along the edge of the car. (In my defense, how was I supposed to know my uncle had purchased a 911 call waiting to happen.) Then, that same day, I decided to play go fetch with my Grandpa's crazy dog, which, by the way, consisted of throwing rocks for him to go get. After a few minutes of this bizarre game, the dog went crazy (and really who wouldn't go crazy playing a game of "almost being pelted with a rock by a nine year old") and jumped up to bite the rock out of my hand. I, of course, panicked again, and launched the rock behind my head. Unfortunately, instead of landing on the ground, my rock found the dead center of my grandma's glass table. Needless to say, my mother announced I was done and for the rest of the summer I wore a helmet, played under heavy supervision and hoped my seasonal stupidity would pass.

It's been 22 years since those touch and go months, and now, like a vicious cycle, I fear I am experiencing another destructive summer. First, while putting away a coffee syrup, I managed to dump about a gallon of it all over the espresso machines, the phone, the fridge, the steamers and the wall. It took me a little over 3 hours to clean and the phone still sticks to its receiver. Next, while changing the menu boards we have in the market, I clocked myself dead in the mouth with one of the bars that holds them together. Not only is my bottom and top lip swollen, but I bled for about an hour. Lastly, while bringing up gallons of milk from the basement storage area, I managed to turn the corner too quick and drop a gallon of milk onto the pavement. Instantly, the milk exploded onto my leg and into my shoes. As I watched the milk spew from the busted container I heard my mom scream, "You are done!"

It's only June...what's next? Am I going to catch on fire?


Ru said...

Dude, that sucks, I'm sorry! Can't help but laugh at your childhood recollections, though. My only childhood memories of you involve (1) that tailpipe and a few years later (2) you, Elisa, and Ryan playing pool in Grandma's basement. You guys wouldn't let me, Emma or Alli play, and you kept telling Emma to get away from the table. She didn't, and the next time you broke, the cueball popped up off the table and nailed her in the head. (I'm pretty sure she was only like 4, but it was still hilarious.) Also, you guys kept singing "Mama Said Knock You Out," and I didn't know the lyrics, and I thought you three were totally thug and I was both scared and jealous. Hahahaha.

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