Story of my life.
Hey kids. My name's Brittney.
I'm pretty awkward.
I'll admit this. And I'm not really the kind of awkward where it's like, "Oh gosh, where did the freakin' loser come from?!" when I walk into a room (at least, I hope not), but more the awkward where you hide all of the sharp objects and put plastic padding over the corners of the walls.
So I'm a little clumsy.
At work I'm known for making messes, grabbing one cup and ending up with 20 (that all end up on the floor), and for accidentally spilling soy and mocha pretty much in places that nobody else has spilled them.
Hooray, I'm clumsy.
It's something I've survived with my entire life. READ: Survived.
No broken bones.
No (uber tramatic, life threatening) cuts.
No terrifying accidents.
The one time I've been to a hospital as a patient, besides uh, Being Born? Was when I fainted in church.
So... yes, I'm clumsy, but I've never seriously injured myself. But I'm still awkward. If there's a box, and I need to open it, and I pull out a knife to cut the tape, my Mother & sister dramatically back away and put their arms up, like T-Rex arms, in a strange pose as if they could leap in between me and the knife before I stab myself in the chest with it.
I am 100% comfortable with knives. I normally cut towards myself, but that's because it's more comfortable. I've done this for 5 years at work and school, with no mishaps. Now now, I know. Knives. Dangerous. Sharp objects.
Look, if you've met me, I'm more likely to slit my wrists with a spoon than I am with a butcher knife. It's just the way I am.
So yeah, it drives me fucking off the wall, because I'm perfectly capable of say, opening a package, but my family acts like I'm some sort of seven-year-old with a cutting fetish and they freak the fuck out. "Cut away from yourself!" "Remember! That's sharp, honey!"
Uh, yeah? Hence the cutting of the tape? Using the sharp part? To cut it? Right?
So I compensate. Last night, I have a newly-recieved box on the kitchen table. I pull out a knife. I cut away from myself, since I am in the presence of my Mother and Sister.
"Um. You look pretty awkward. Remember how that's sharp? Maybe you should cut towards yourself."
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Story. Of my fucking life with my family. No matter what I do!
Anyway, in other news. Cute Customer is totally moving back to Arizona on Friday. Ef.
I'm pretty awkward.
I'll admit this. And I'm not really the kind of awkward where it's like, "Oh gosh, where did the freakin' loser come from?!" when I walk into a room (at least, I hope not), but more the awkward where you hide all of the sharp objects and put plastic padding over the corners of the walls.
So I'm a little clumsy.
At work I'm known for making messes, grabbing one cup and ending up with 20 (that all end up on the floor), and for accidentally spilling soy and mocha pretty much in places that nobody else has spilled them.
Hooray, I'm clumsy.
It's something I've survived with my entire life. READ: Survived.
No broken bones.
No (uber tramatic, life threatening) cuts.
No terrifying accidents.
The one time I've been to a hospital as a patient, besides uh, Being Born? Was when I fainted in church.
So... yes, I'm clumsy, but I've never seriously injured myself. But I'm still awkward. If there's a box, and I need to open it, and I pull out a knife to cut the tape, my Mother & sister dramatically back away and put their arms up, like T-Rex arms, in a strange pose as if they could leap in between me and the knife before I stab myself in the chest with it.
I am 100% comfortable with knives. I normally cut towards myself, but that's because it's more comfortable. I've done this for 5 years at work and school, with no mishaps. Now now, I know. Knives. Dangerous. Sharp objects.
Look, if you've met me, I'm more likely to slit my wrists with a spoon than I am with a butcher knife. It's just the way I am.
So yeah, it drives me fucking off the wall, because I'm perfectly capable of say, opening a package, but my family acts like I'm some sort of seven-year-old with a cutting fetish and they freak the fuck out. "Cut away from yourself!" "Remember! That's sharp, honey!"
Uh, yeah? Hence the cutting of the tape? Using the sharp part? To cut it? Right?
So I compensate. Last night, I have a newly-recieved box on the kitchen table. I pull out a knife. I cut away from myself, since I am in the presence of my Mother and Sister.
"Um. You look pretty awkward. Remember how that's sharp? Maybe you should cut towards yourself."
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Story. Of my fucking life with my family. No matter what I do!
Anyway, in other news. Cute Customer is totally moving back to Arizona on Friday. Ef.