I didn’t fall down today (yet), but I do fall down on an alarmingly regular basis. I have a friend who says I am an “Edge Crasher.” Theoretically, this is a scientific term, but I can’t seem to find any evidence saying as much. One way or the other, it’s a nice way of saying “clumsy” and “gawky.”
When I was little, my family defined it as a “Kathryn” when people fell down (not just me). At some point I had friends who called me “Grace.”
Mind you, I am selectively elegant and poised, especially when I’m performing. You can ask my husband. Hmm. That doesn’t sound good. I meant performing as in acting and singing.
Then again, I’ve also biffed it in that venue one or two spectacular times. I’ve momentarily lost essential pieces of my costume (I can be thankful that my topless moment was when my back was to the audience), I tripped on a cord once, I tripped on the train of my dress another time – you get the picture.
So last week I fell down our wooden stairs. The week before that I tripped on my way into work and then fell in Kinko’s a few days later. On all of these occasions my hands were full and I could not catch myself. Also, I exclaimed in a rather loud and surprised voice. This didn’t help me go unnoticed, suffice it to say.
If I were a pirate, I’d have to be the dread pirate Achy BlueArse, the most feared pirate in all of…
the emergency room?