This is where I question the logic involved in my choosing Monday as the day in which I post.
Hello.
Are you glad to see me? If you are, you shouldn't be here, since you aren't going to actually see me. Just the words I typed out late on Sunday night because the week's theme was decided two hours prior.
This week's theme is embarrassing stories.
This is where I am completely qualified to speak.
I am the epitome of embarrassment, particularly to those that invite me to things. I should probably be more specific, since said things could be counted upon the digits of my appendages, but I felt a generalizing term would boost your perception of my popularity.
A lot of my embarrassing stories are rooted in my multiple flops at violin performances. You can picture how that goes, stumbling on stage, nearly falling, skipping portions of pieces, playing the wrong parts at the wrong times, etc.
But there are also times where my general existence is embarrassing enough.
This especially happens in social situations when I am with my friends.
Every few months I usually throw/attend an all nighter of video games and internet with my friends Zane and Zealun. (Zane is our Thursday poster, if you didn't already know.)
One of the more embarrassing times in which we did these things. (Yes, that was poorly phrased, I am awware. I am also aware that I spelled that was two Ws. It was a typo. A sticky of hand. It's like a slight of hand, but where my hand stays on the key until I remove it. Making it a sticky of hand…which definitely does not sound right at all. Moving on.)
Now I was holed up in my basement with my friends Zane and Zealun and it was late, and I was still wearing jeans that I had been wearing earlier that day, so I went upstairs to put on some sleep pants. After applying said pants, I slid down the stairs because I am extremely mature and that's how mature people come down the stairs.
Because I am a horrible storyteller, I am going to back this train up a bit. Back that caboose up.
The day on which this took place was the 15th anniversary of the date of birth for my friend Lilly, our Wednesday here, and I had decided to call her on Skype. So while this was going on, Zane, Zealun and Lilly via Skype were in my basement at my desk chatting it up while I scrubbed my teeth, consumed some allergy medicine and applied softer pants.
After completing these tasks, I came downstairs and decided to hop up onto the bunk bed behind my desk, in view of ze webcam, through which a female friend was viewing myself, and my friends.
As soon as I hopped up onto the bunk bed, I decided to randomly jump in front of the camera by leaping off of the ladder, down onto the ottoman next to the desk, since my friends were occupying my beloved spinny chair. (#ReppinIKEA)
I took this leap of faith, so confident that it would impress both her, and Zane and Zealun, because of the mad skills I would be able to claim to possess after accomplishing this feat.
And as I jumped, somehow these pants just slid right off… . They had hung on the ladder or something. And my underwear too. Can't forget that. LET ME JUST HUMILIATE MYSELF EVEN MORE HOW ABOUT THAT.
#WhyDoIExist
The best part is that since they were all bunched at my knees I crumpled silently to the floor, missing the ottoman.
I don't think I have ever reapplied pants quicker than in that moment.
In that moment, I swear my trousers were infinite, unlike my ego.
There is a silver lining, though. It's that Zane and Zealun turned around just in time to make it look like I was just adjusting the waistband. No biggie.
Now Lilly on the other hand, if she saw this, has said nothing, for which I thank her. (Thank you.)
But if you did notice my mishap, send me an email and a check for trauma therapy of some sort, and a coupon for me to use you as a suicide hotline whenever I please.
I could go on, you know, because I'm that awesome, but I won't.
Happy Monday, and try to keep from dying today.
Your loving, self deprecating blogger,
Ranger.
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