The Clumsy Quotient

In my best Andy Rooney half-in-the-bag voice: “Have ya’ ever noticed…”

The “noticing in question” is yet another upsetting/annoying/embarrassing thing about myownself, as I sit poised on the cusp of SIXTY FUCKIN’ YEARS OLD – my “Clumsy Quotient” is undeniably going up. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”, you ask? Discounting my predominant left-handedness, I’m referring to the number of numbnuts things that I manage to do/undo during the course of an average day, DESPITE me upping my “concentration game” to NOT do something clumsy. Without further ado, here’s my average day’s clumsy quotient:

Despite my VERY best efforts NOT to, I invariably spill some Whey Low (my sugar substitute – you should check it out!) outside the parameters of my morning coffee cup at least 3 days/week; nothing like a first-thing-in-the-morning “MORON!” self-proclamation before my AM cuppa.

  • Then, before I’ve even tried to negotiate the treacherous five step walk from our coffee station to my recliner and laptop, where I park it to review my 1-2 REAL emails and delete my 152 fuckin’ SPAM emails (despite my continuous vigilance to “Unsubscribe” from ~25 websites EVERY fuckin’ day, the Gods Of The Interweb CONTINUE to bombard me with SPAM from websites I’ve never even HEARD of, let alone visited – “Asian Transsexual Gay Midgets Want YOUR Man Relish!” – What. The. FUCK?!), I more often than not manage to spill some coffee through the simple act of STIRRING the sweetener into the coffee – Can a MORON also be RETARDED I wanna know?
  • Then there’s the daily “dividing up of the vitamins/minerals” into my AM and PM cups. Not a SINGLE DAY goes by when I don’t “miss” one or the other of said shot-glass sized cups when doling out my 15 or so pills, causing me to swipe at the air where the errant vitamin WAS on its gravity-induced fall to the floor, where it then rolls under one of the two cat bowls – FUCKTARD! I’m considering just throwing them ALL onto the floor straightaway, then putting the two cups on the floor and dispensing them from THERE…
  • The twice daily “stirring of the Metamucil” provides me with two MORE opportunities to hone my fumble-fingerness. Don’t wipe THAT up tout de suite, and it bonds like Sakrete onto the granite countertop – how could this POSSIBLY be good for me I’m wondering…
  • Let’s not forget the twice weekly laundry routine, where I seem OBLIGED to drop a pair of u-trou or a washcloth in-between the washer and the dryer, or even better, from the dryer to the laundry basket – landing on the FILTHY laundry room floor; back in the dirty clothes hamper THAT’LL go, you mongoloid idiot! (Exception: If it’s a pair of Peggy’s u-trou, I just wipe it off and put it into the laundry basket – “What she doesn’t know” and all…)
  • Unloading the dishwasher – yet ANOTHER opportunity for Dick Jones to SHINE – “Drop that spoon, Stew-pit!” Back in the dishwasher it goes – Do not pass Go, do not collect $200…
  • I must also admit to the virtually daily ritual of dribbling SOME sort of food, butter, gravy, salsa verde, food-induced drool, or beverage onto my shirt – Please feel free to mail Dick Jones a lobster bib, care of this station…
  • Finally, Dick Jones’ latest “tip o’ the hat” to senility started this very week – I seem to be hell-bent on putting my u-trou on inside-out every morning. Though I would LIKE to give myself a little break on this one, since it occurs BEFORE my morning cuppa and in total darkness, I’m troubled – how long EXACTLY before I start putting them on inside-out AND backwards I wanna know?

As even the most cursory extrapolation of this behavior would suggest, my “Golden Years” promise to be colored with “bowel mistakes” – aka “The assumed fart that became an inside-out and backwards underwear-filling SHITE”, and “piss errors” – aka “I THOUGHT that I had emptied my bladder before I pulled up my inside-out and backwards underwear” – so why is my recliner wet?

The future’s so bright, I gotta wear cataract-protecting shades, Kids…



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