You see that girl over there? The one with black hair that looks deathly pale? Yeah?
I used a home dye kit. You know, the ones that somehow managed to cover half my forehead, all of my ears, and dot my cheeks with uneven blobs of freckles. Which in turn means I have to scrub and scrub that crap off with an exfoliating flannel until a layer of skin peels off. Then I step out of the shower, wipe away the condensation and glare at myself in the mirror. And guess what? That bloody stubborn black dye that said brown on the box is still there, stained like I’ve applied make-up in the dark.
Yeah, that type of hair dye. And all I wanted to do was cover the ridiculous ginger stripe that haloed around my hair from the botched red hair dye I’d tried before.
I’m an embarrassing, walking disaster. I go from one mishap to another, there’s just no ‘fixing’ it with me. I could successfully become a Walking Dead extra, and nobody would question it. I wouldn’t even have to go through hair and make-up. I frequently sport bird’s-nest hair, and a bloody nose on a daily basis. It’s my best look yet.
So, how does a girl like me spend her days? I’ll tell you. I’m either constantly kissing the ground, or I’m saying something stupid in front of important, good-looking people. I can’t help it. It’s like the only filter that runs in my brain is the ability to be embarrassing, like an impulsive need I have to do.
I can’t have friends without them laughing at me. They say I’m funny, half the time I can’t decide whether they’re laughing at me, or with me. And in all honesty, I don’t even know if I care. I think I’m too simple-minded for that, or as my friends like to say, outgoing. Have you ever noticed how lively people don’t have much to care about? It’s like they’re incapable of thinking deep, and that’s definitely me. I’m the funny one because I laugh at myself too. I’d be too depressed if I gave my clumsiness a deeper meaning than what it is.
Anyway, have you noticed how I like to talk a lot? I’m sorry. It’s infectious, just like my laugh. You’ll see, don’t worry.
Wait, did you see that wink I just sent you? No? Gosh, please don’t let my humour be wasted here. Come on, now. Pay attention.
So, the other day I was walking around town on my lunch break, minding my own business when my foot caught on the ledge of a drain. I fell forward, and you know when the movies use those incredibly expensive slow-mo cameras to capture the best part of a fight? Well, that’s what it felt like when I saw this guy barrelling towards me, arms spread out to catch me. And all I hear is this deep voice call out, “Noooooo…”
He’s too late of course. By the time he reached me, I’d snogged the ground with added tongue. And gravel, by the way, does not taste good, never mind the texture.
As you can probably imagine, I’m used to being down here on the floor, making friends out of the stones, but I must admit, I’m a little shocked at the guy holding his hand out to help me. There he is smouldering away with his tanned skin, broodingly dark eyes, and deliciously pink, pouty lips, and I, for once, can’t actually form a sentence. I know, shocker.
I’m dusting myself off, patting away the dirt from my jeans to bide myself some time, when he suddenly starts laughing at me. And that, at least, is something I can handle, but I’m still confused. Why help me and then laugh at me?
I have two words for you: Human nature. It’s ironically funny. We help a man up, and knock him back down with laughter.
Anyway, I’m finally ready to thank/punch this guy, and I open my mouth to speak. Oh, did I tell you I’m extremely lucky? No? Well you’re about to find out.
“Thanks, my name is…” and just as I’m about to tell him, I have to stop because something’s landed on my mouth. I close my eyes because, let’s face it, I already know what it is. And if I didn’t before, then the moment the guy’s eyes went wide and grimaced, that was a pretty huge hint in itself.
“Here.” He hands me a tissue from his pocket. I stare at it, but I know I can’t be picky. I have to take it.
Because a bird just pooped a giant, white blob on my lips. And now I look like a bloody Dalmation.
Yeah, my ‘luck’ is only just beginning.
I had so much fun writing this today, that I’ve decided to create it as a weekly feature. Each week I’ll spontaneously expand on this story, and see what funny mishaps this character gets herself in to. So if you liked this, don’t forget to check back for the next installment of Living Funny; Dying Clumsy.
Have a great week, everybody!