3:09 p.m.

The adventures of Pukey Patty & Booger Bob

Preface: I have always been clumsy. Always. Here are three instances to prove my point. Thereís many more, but Iíll limit it to three.

1. I was 18 and it was snowing out. The mailman had just brought the mail. My mailbox was, at the most, 60 feet from my front door. Anyway, long story short. I fell, not once, not twice, not three times, no. FIVE times going to and from my mailbox. Itís true, I have witnesses. And Jackie still enjoys telling the story EVERY time weíre outside in the snow.
2. I was in 7th grade. (Thatís grade seven for you wacky Canadians. See, Iím culturally aware.) School had let out early, and we were walking to the local hang out Ė the grocery store. Donít ask. Anyway, on the way there I fell. Now, the reason this stands out in my mind is because it was a nice summer day. No ice, no water, no snow. Nothing. Except the guy I had the biggest crush on. It was the first, of many times, that Iíve made a fool of myself in front a cute guy.
3. Just a few months ago, I was walking Bailey around the neighborhood. Once again, it was a nice summery day. We came to an intersection; I stopped and looked both ways. There werenít any cars, so I proceeded to step off the curb, only to fall flat on my face. At the moment my ass hit the ground, three cars passed. Not one, not two, but all three stopped to make sure I was okay. I felt like a total doofus. My jeans were ripped wide open, my hands, knees and forearms were all bleeding, and I was just sitting in the middle of the intersection. I scrambled to my feet, but it was already too late. Other cars passing slowed down to ask if everything was alright. A cop that was parked up the street pulled up to check out the action. All in less than 5 minutes. Iím thoroughly surprised I didnít make the 5 oíclock news.

Anyway, on to the story. Yesterday I was walking to my computer science class. On a sidewalk. There was a bit of loose gravel on it because it had just snowed a few days earlier and they think throwing pebbles on it helps. Whatever. The ice was long gone, and all that remained was the gravel on the sidewalk.

You probably think you know where this is going by now, but youíre wrong. I didnít fall.

I did the Iím-about-to-fall-losing-my-balance-but-damn-it-Iím-not-going-to-fall dance. You know the one. The one where you flail your arms and contort your body into positions that should only be reserved for yoga class. I shouldíve just fallen; I wouldíve drawn less attention to myself. But, no. My pride wouldnít let me. So instead I do this flailing thing, regain my balance, and promptly say, ďFucking gravel.Ē As if that werenít enough, I decided to apologize to the cute guy next to me. For no reason. Then I ran away.


In other news. It seems that after my poo ordeal Iíve been a magnet for bodily fluid references. I cleaned out my car this morning, and found this on the ground.

In case you canít read it. Itís Pukey Patty (just pull her ponytail to make her puke) and Booger Bob (Squeeze his face to make the boogers ooze).

I was intrigued enough to take a picture and do some research. I found this site.

The things they market to kids these days.

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