Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Me On Ice Skates

Awkward, wobbly, disaster prone.

Umm, truth? I just typed the subject of this post with no thought whatsoever to its relation to its actual content, thus the results may be spars, picture-centric and at times, just like all my other posts, heavy on the WTF.

To start us off I will relate the sliver of a memory I have about "Me On Ice Skates" because I committed already for reasons that elude us all.

Scene: Teenager, impossibly thin, horribly self-conscious and possessing the knowledge that my coordination on the dance floor (I can seriously bust a move, people) would in no way save me from a bruised tailbone and the prodigious amount nervous sweat I would invariably produce leading up to said injury.

It was a church youth group outing meant to be a fun way to spend Friday night instead of drinking wine coolers and taking bong rips. I was remarkably straight and narrow at the time and really thought it could be great night. We piled into the 15 passenger van and off we went, probably singing Jesus songs for all I know. That time was important to me in many ways, but it is also a huge blur as many horrendous events fell among the "JESUS IS LORD I THINK I AM CALLED TO SEMINARY" time. It served its purpose and I survived, huzzah.

We got to the rink, it was cold, etc, but I got on the ice without major incident. I wasn't completely stupid, so I immediately clung with a drug addicts like grasp to the outer railing, knowing it was the only thing keeping me from dying a horrible, heroin-free death. Wait, what?
(shhhh, I know those are roller skates.)

The thing is, the boy I was pretty hung up on (IT ALL BECOMES CLEAR, I KNOW) was attending that night and he was one of those modelesque, graceful figures that was familiar with gliding on shoes with knives attached to the bottom of them. My only previous experience ice skating was when I was like 4 in Canada and the moment I let go of my parent's hand (or they gently set me free thinking I was ready to balance on two legs... HA) I slammed onto the ice and cried for the next six hours or so about my broken butt, so I had good reason to be TERRIFIED, but...

That lanky so-and-so lured me out away from my safety bar and OH MY GOD I WASN'T DEAD, THIS MUST SPEAK TO THE POWER OF OUR LOVE RIGHT? I sort of kicked with one leg and progress all of 3 inches on the ice. I felt invincible, which if you haven't discovered on this blog means catastrophe is right around the corner. I pushed again and again, but only with my right leg for some reason, so I sort of veered further and further center of the rink where HOLY SHIT THESE PEOPLE ARE MOVING FAST I am pretty sure this is amazing or terrible.

It was terrible. Some young hockey-loving 10 year old bashed into me, knocked me down and left me there. The love of my life was busy skating like an angel in an attempt to be inspirational to me, but was really just self absorbed awesomeness (it was neat to see him, even from my prone position on the ice). I turned onto my side and realized I had no idea how to get up. Like none. And I hurt.

And then someone skating backwards and not able to see me caught their blade in my fucking lower shin and proceeded to skate over my legs.

I have no idea how I got off the ice that night, but I sure as shit am never going back on. THE END.


Awwww, fuck yeah we are back to happy!! Let's party and shotgun Boone's Farm!!!!

Serious British Cat is Seriously British and says, "No, only the driest of gin martinis will do for these celebrations."

In my dreams, this is what I look like.

In real life, this is my chosen profession.