Joelle said before her coffee on July 26, 2007
I have a history of falling; stairs, floors, ladders… you name it, I’ve probably fallen from or off of it. Over the years, I’ve developed a minor fear of falling because of this — not enough to keep me from doing things, but enough to occasionally make me bust a few tears when I do fall because it scares me so badly.
When I was about 6 years old, my younger cousin and I were playing in front of my house where there were 20 wide cement stairs that led all the way down to the sidewalk. About halfway down, for whatever reason, my cousin shoved me and I fell to the bottom, twisting my left ankle beneath me.
When I was 11, I had a not-very-nice nanny/housekeeper who threw me down some stairs. That was fun.
When I was 16, while working as a courtesy clerk at Vons, a local grocery store, I slipped on a soapy meat department floor while cleaning it and landed flat on my back, hitting my head and knocking myself unconscious. Oh, and I twisted my same ankle under one of those big rolling meat racks.
When I was 17, at the same grocery store I worked at, I fell down about 6 stairs in the back room while stopping by to get my paycheck on my off-day. The heel on my shoe caught in the hem of my pants and I toppled head-first down the stairs, busting my left kneecap and again, spraining my left ankle.
When I was 22, I fell off a leaning ladder about 4 feet to the ground. The rung underneath my right foot was faulty and it fell right off the ladder.
Just last year I fell in the parking lot of Home Depot in the rain, wearing a skirt and pulled a Britney on a table-full of workmen eating hot dogs. Good times!
And most recently, last night, as I was carrying a plant out to my front porch, greeting GFI for our evening beer chat in the front yard. With my back to the stairs and a houseplant in my right hand, my left foot slipped and off I went! I started to fall backwards and tried to grab the railing, missed, then tried again as I fell backwards down 3 stairs. I finally managed to get a hold of it, but, it doesn’t end there, no....
I couldn’t seem to get my footing, so I kept falling and my whole body swung to the left, still holding on to the railing with my left hand for dear life. I let go when I realized I was going to fall forward anyway, so I could put my hands up and protect my head. I toppled head-first down one more landing, hitting full force on my left side, primarily my shoulder and hip, about an inch from cracking my skull on this big decorative rock we have out there. During all of this, somehow, I smashed my netherbits “Funniest Home Videos"-style against the last cement step I fell down (I’m still not entirely sure how. I’ve tried to figure it out and can’t.) and skidding a little… enough for me to note in my head as I landed, “That’s going to leave road rash.”
Poor GFI was standing there with her beer in one hand, smokes in the other, staring at me going “Oh my god! Oh my god, Jo-Jo! Are you ok? That was like slow-motion!” (Yes, she calls me Jo-Jo. You may not.) “What hurts? What’s broken?!” My response? Basically, it was “Ow, my vagina!”
In hindsight, that’s pretty damn funny.
Anyway, so she kvetches and freaks out. I kvetch and freak out. We discuss how I almost smashed my head on the rock and are amazed that I didn’t come away with more injuries. After I hosed off the dirt and had a beer, I felt better. I’m stiff and my neck is jacked up pretty badly. I think I mildly sprained my left wrist. There are a few scratches down my forearm and what I think are going to be some really delicious bruises down the left side of my body, but overall, I’m alright.
Note to those who dare have a relationship with me: If I say I’m falling for you, there’s a good chance I mean that literally.
Joelle said in the late morning on July 25, 2007
It pained me to even take this photo. But I had to bear witness to marzipan in the wild. I’m used to spotting it only in fancy gourmet places, but to be confronted with it on my common grocery store shelf. This is going too far!
Oh, Ritter Sport. You forsake me.
posted from my cell phone
Joelle said in the early morning on July 24, 2007
OK, someone needs to tell me because I really, really don’t get it: What is the big deal about Dane Cook?
Last night, after getting home from cocktails with Lyn, I wasn’t quite ready for bed, so I put on some Dane Cook stand-up show called Vicious Circle on HBO. I chuckled maybe once or twice, but overall, I was relatively unimpressed. I love stand-up. I’m a huge stand-up fan, but I just didn’t see what the big whoop is about him.
It seems like wherever I turn these days I run into people who like, revere him. Is he really that great? Is he this year’s Mitch Hedburg? According to the show I watched, he’s able to sell-out huge arenas, so is he that good or are people just lemmings?
I like a variety of stand-up. Everything from Bill Hicks to George Carlin to Chris Rock to Ellen to Eddie Izzard. And I really dig comics that appear to be kind of random and speak to things we can all relate to, like Gary Gulman’s diatribes on cookies (his bit on Sugar Cookies here). Love that and Dane Cook appears to have those qualities, but I don’t know… there’s something off-putting about him. I don’t like how he runs around, ducks n’ weaves and talks really loud, kind of saying, “You will find me funny! Hey, Look over here!” Do I just not want to like him because everyone else does? No, I don’t think that’s it. Something in his delivery… I don’t know.
So, comedy fans… sell me. Why should I like Dane Cook?
Joelle said in the early morning on July 23, 2007
Back-to-school time is nostalgic for me. Of course, I take joy in the fact that kids are all going back to school and won’t be loitering around playing grab-ass anymore (wow, I sound like my Dad), but mostly, the back-to-school sales, advertisements and such remind me of a hopeful, exciting time: the start of the new school year, when anything is possible and there’s a chance you might not be a complete peon anymore.
While most teenagers gripe about school, I really loved it. Granted, I did well in my classes, so I spent my spare time coming up with creative ways to get out of actually going to class, instead ditching to go sit in on the jazz ensemble classes my choir director was leading. Yes, I ditched class to go sing in a choir. I’m so punk rock. Anarchy, etc.
Anyway, I digress. Back-to-school was always a time I could daydream about the possibilities of the year to come. Is chemistry going to suck? Will the snobby girl be nicer this year? Will Chris whats-his-face ask me to “go with him”? (And really, where did we think we were going? No one drove and I wasn’t allowed to date.)
Starting around 11-years-old until I was actually 17, I bought the August issue of Seventeen magazine every year and read it cover to cover. I would sit in my windowsill at night and flip through each page carefully, dog-earing the pages that contained stuff I fancied and things I “definitely wanted”. I conjured images in my head of me wearing that skirt with those shoes and oh my god, I will just die if I don’t get that new Bonne Belle Lip Potion…
And school supplies? Oh! Nirvana! I loooooooooove school supplies. In fact, I love most office supplies. I don’t know what that’s about, but I know I’m not alone. And school supplies were extra special. Your binder spoke volumes about you — what bands you listened to, what cliques you belonged to (if any — I didn’t really. I was the Every Girl™ )… if you were cool in elementary school, you had a Trapper Keeper. If you were even cooler and a girl, you had a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. The preferred choice in high school was any kind of plain binder you could scribble your undying love for Michael Hutchence and Robert Smith all over. *cough* Not that I would know anything about that…
Back-to-school is upon us! What are your favorite back to school memories?
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