Seriously??

     Oye.
     I have truly missed my calling.  Dick Van Dyke and John Ritter made millions performing, on TV, the very things I seem to encounter regularily.  Lucille Ball was loved by millions for her zany mishaps.
     My life, it seems, IS one zany mishap.  Without humor, I'd be dead!
     I'm not sure it was all that zany when I was a child, although my Aunt Reen, Aunt Dorie, and Mom kept zany an acceptable way to live.  But, when I got older....
     There was the weight machine incident when I was a sophmore.  I was bearing down to leg press 260lbs, and the girl in charge of inserting the pins ASSUMED that I wouldn't be able to press it and pulled the pin out at the exact moment I pressed.  This left only about 20lbs to press.  With all my vigor I pressed for 260, met 20 and my feet slipped right off the pedals, sending them downward into my shins.  Two fractured shinbones.  The gym teacher was about 5'1" and 90lbs soaking wet, and she bore the weight of my large, fainting frame to the school nurse.  Must've been quite a sight.  Lesson: never assume--its makes an ass out of you, and shatters ME bones....
     And the rainstorm.  It came down like the heavens were having super soaker wars.  It left huge gulleys of water at every dip in the street or sidewalk.  I tried to jump across a huge one on my way into the grocery store after the storm.  Damn.  Gulley too wide, feet soaking wet.  After several minutes, browsing aisles, I noticed a young boy holding his mother leg and pointed down--at me.  He looked a bit frightened.  I followed his point and found that my canvas shoes had gone rabid.  Foaming.  More foam with each step.  I had used a spray on canvas shoe cleaner the night before.  Perhaps I could've used less or rinsed them better.....
     More recently, there was a three month ride of the uprising of home machines.  The computer died.  The washer quit spinning, the vacuum stopped sucking, the coffemaker stopped making, and my glasses snapped.  Okay, the glasses aren't a machine, but they are what gives me my super powers.  This uprising cost me a ton, but on the bright side, it really would make for good TV.
     After spending months waving at the cars behind me, my tailpipe was removed by a friend.  Not a problem, except for the pollution of the enviroment, and the possible poisoning of anyone riding in my car.  When my little Suzuki started roaring, it became embarrassing, but at least I had a car.  That my son was mortified riding with me is sad, but life.  However, when I jumped in and turned the key on the day of grocery shopping, and got a click, things became harried.  Damn.  Another breakdown.  More money.....no groceries.  Oh well, call a repair guy.  Luck!  Found a good guy that would let me pay my bill a bit at a time. 
     As I watched my little SUV leave the driveway, I was saddened, but encouraged to have found such a great repairman.  Until we ran out of food.  After all, that's where I was headed when the vehicle died.  Three days later, my son was scrounging in cupboards for something to snack on.  He found, stale saltines, semi stale cheese whales, and....croutons.  He was overjoyed to snack on croutons.  Time to get the car back?  I think so.  But, alas, this was not to be.  I drive a '99 Suzuki and a starter, it seemed, was a rare commodity.  Six days later, by no fault of the repairman, I got my little "beep beep" back.  Oh joy!  Oh reveillee!  Oh God it needs gas!  Lots of gas.  I grabbed my wallet and headed to the gas station.  It sputtered, but I figured it'd been sitting for six days--warm up girl.  Big sputter.  Well, it's mostly downhill...I'll make it.  Until that little surge uphill to get to the downhill--silence.  Really?  Turn the key.  Absolute farting sound, then silence.  After a sigh, I walked to a friends house to grab a ride to the station to get enough gas--to get to the station.  Had to spend $9 on a small gas can--again---yes this has happened before and don't even approach the question of why I don't carry a can in the car!  Okay.  Paid $5 for gas in the can.  Pumped too fast and it blew up onto my person.  Gas all over.  Can doesn't hold $5.  Can I get this in my car and get back to this stall so I get my remaining $1.88?  My dear friend takes me to my "bleep bleep", I start pouring and it leaks all over, splashing onto my feet.  Let me add, here, that once a can is purchased you must assemble.  Directions are stamped into the plastic, making assembly impossible for a 50yr old, nearsighted lady.  Back to "BLEEEEEEP!"  Got in, car started.  Friend left.  Thanks Kate.
     I raced back to the stall and 'aha!' $1.88 still there.  I'm still wondering if I hadn't pressed the type of gas I wanted, if I would've gotten my credit.  But, it was erased and I put my last $6 in.  When a tank is that empty, $9 doesn't do much.  As I walked toward the station I could see a huddle at the cash register, and knew it was about me.  Reeking, I walked in and announced, "I'm bAAaaack!"  "Say, I didn't use that entire $5 a minute ago...."  "Yeah, I see that."  Oh boy.  After much discussion, I was given my $1.88 back.  I went slinking home...or stinking home...dragged up the stairs while saying a quick prayer of thanks--yes, thanks--and walked in the apartment.  "Everything running okay?", came the question from my son.  "Great.", I say.  "I ran out of gas, walked to friends, got ride, spilled gas all over, and I stink.  Car's running fine."  "Cool!"  Seriously??? 
     Gotta laugh at it all.  Gotta.  Or I'll strangle the first cheery person I see.  Seriously.