Thursday, April 14, 2011

The Born Klutz



Is there hope for the sorry individual known as The Born Klutz?

No. There is none.

None whatsoever.

As one of that number, I view life as a continuous obstacle course of cracked sidewalks, low hanging branches, and precariously placed cups of steaming hot coffee at the end of which if I die from natural causes,  it will be amazing!

Life as a Born Klutz is anything but a stumble in the park.

It’s said that in attempting to slap back at the doctor when he slapped me at birth, I knocked over the instrument table and became unduly familiar with the delivery nurse.

Family lore is that I did not discover the physical coordination to climb out of the crib until a relatively late age, at which time I managed to knock over both a bottle of formula and my date’s drink.

And there are several 60 year old women around today who claim that their hip replacement surgeries would have been wholly unnecessary if not for having endeavored to dance with me at my Bar Mitzvah party in 1963.

As a Born Klutz, I have never met a drink that my Inner Klutz didn’t recognize as a piñata.  Seated at a table at a business function or social gathering, it is inevitable that a glass of some kind of beverage, preferably piping hot, will go sailing all over the table cloth and onto to the lap of the person at the table I am most trying to impress.

Usually it happens while reaching for salad dressing fated to adorn my shirt cuff til evening's end,  getting a paper cut while handing out my business card to someone who will never utilize my services, or poking a passerby waitress in the ribs simultaneously with trying to wave to some guy at another table it turns out I don’t even know.

If not in these manners, the drink will be rent asunder while I’m making a grand hand gesture to accompany a conversational point that doesn’t warrant a grand hand gesture, such as:

“Oh yes, I have always been religious about flossing with the un-waxed, not the waxed!”

As a Born Klutz, I do not have the physical coordination and spatial sense to parallel park a motor vehicle. I am fortunate that parking lots were invented, because otherwise I would be powerless to terminate any motor vehicle excursion that ends anywhere other than in my own driveway.

Once it took me 27 back and forth moves to secure my car safely in a parking space on Lombard Street in Philadelphia.  Had not the cars in front of and behind me pulled out during this manuever,  I’d probably yet be on Lombard Street, banging their front and rear bumpers to this day and unto eternity.

No Born Klutz needs a test to determine if he or she is a Born Klutz.

Consequently, you know you’re a Born Klutz if:

1) At a dinner party, you are routinely seated at the children’s table.
2) You open the same kitchen cabinet door into your forehead 3-4 times per month.

3) At least once in life in attempting to shake hands, you’ve tripped, fallen forward, and goosed the intended hand-shaker.

4) You have walked directly into a solid object such as a tree, a lamp post, or a family member.

5) You even saw the tree, lamppost, or family member looming in front of you and still walked directly into it.

6) You’ve gone to the Emergency Room and lied about the manner in which you received your injury because it’s just too embarrassing.

7) You have déjà vu every time you say the words “OMG, I’ll pay for that!”

8) You have glanced at your watch while holding a beverage in the hand attached to the very wrist upon which you wear your watch.

9) And did so this week.

10) You are saying to yourself, “I have known I am a Born Klutz since I was 5. Who the hell needs this quiz?”

Can gene therapy help The Born Klutz?

It ought not to be difficult to locate the dreaded Klutz Gene. It’s bouncing around erratically on its home chromosome,  jarring, interrupting, and disturbing the operation of the genes adjacent to it. This is most likely the reason most Born Klutzes, among other things, daily change their minds whether they like or find incredibly annoying actor Owen Wilson.

So, is there hope for the sorry individual known as The Born Klutz?

Well, maybe.

In the meantime,  my friend,  I’m coming over to say hello and shake your hand!  

Would you like a cup of hot coff ....

OOOOOOOPPPSSS!!!!!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9 comments:

Lexi said...

What's wrong with waxed dental floss?

And I maintain that if a person puts a glass of red wine down on a cream carpet, it is not the fault of the second person if she kicks it over.

Dave Bartlett said...

...and the 2 absolute klutz giveaways:

11) You've burned your ear when someone called you on the phone while you were doing the ironing.

12) You've burned the other ear trying to call an ambulance.

My middle daughter, Stephanie is 20 next month, but she's such a klutz that we'd still feel easier if she'd hold hands while crossing the road.

She once managed to walk, face first into the one solitary lamppost in the centre of a pedestrianised city square.

Worse than that, the next time we were there, she was describing the experience to her mother.

"How on Earth did you manage that?" her mum asked, "Surely you must have seen it."

"I didn't because I was looking at the pigeons," she replied.

Mum looked around the square and asked "Which pigeons?"

Stephanie pointed upward to the nearby rooftops and said "Those pigeons," at which point she walked slap bang into the self same lamppost again!

Deb Stewart said...

Your writing is brilliant Perry. But don't let that go to your nouveau old, formerly cute head LOL.

This post reminds me of my daughter Amanda, who is the only person I know who can fall "upstairs". Seriously, who falls UP stairs?!?! Fortunately she is graceful in other ways : )

Thanks for the chuckle... Deb

K.B. Owen said...

Well, Perry, parking in Philly is never a picnic even for the most coordinated...love your post, esp. the "you know you're a klutz if..." Good stuff!

Perry Block said...

Lexi,
What's wrong with waxed dental floss?

OMG, Lexi, call your dentist immediately!

Perry Block said...

Dave,
My experiences with ironing have resulted in smoldering holes in dress shirts, spray-starching both eyes, and the catching of sensitive body parts in the folding/unfolding mechanism of the ironing board itself.

Stephanie sounds like a lovely young woman, and were she and I to marry (yes, I know you'd just love a morose, bald 60-year-old as your son-in-law), our child would most likely have to go through life in a suit of armor.

Thanks for your nice comment!

Perry Block said...

Deb,
I'd love to see Amanda fall upstairs.

With some practice, I bet I could do it too!

Perry Block said...

Kathy,
Thank you!

Got any material on great 19th Century Klutzes?

K.D. McCrite said...

I am deeply disturbed to know you have traveled several hundred miles to peer into my windows and watch how I go about my daily routines. The truly disturbing part is that you didn't even let me know you were here. We could have at least had dinner.