I am like this superhero of clumsiness.

Last night, while looking around furiously for the source of the stanky cigarette smoke that was emanating from the new neighbor guy/guy who is fucking the new neighbor guy, I fell in the bushes and got my butt all wet.

There is nothing less delightful than a wet butt on a rainy day. Except maybe a new neighbor who, not wanting his apartment to stink, goes out on the balcony to smoke, which of course rises, and is sucked directly into YOUR apartment, so yours can reek, instead. Delightful!

I would have liked to have stepped in dog business, and then onto his face, grinding my heel into his nose, in order to show him what inhaling his stench was like, but no time - I had to go blow-dry my ass. I'll send down the welcome wagon later.

(Possibly in the form of a note suggesting that smokers in apartment buildings should only be allowed to smoke in their own cars, with all the windows rolled up, or in the street. And by that I mean in traffic. Die, smelly fuckers, die. Hey, I'm just giving them what they want, faster!)

Then, I had come slogging home in the rain only to crunch a poor snail on the sidewalk. Aaah! I hate killing snails! They are my friends! So I bent over to scrape poor dead Smedly off the sidewalk and *crunch*. Aaaah! Another gastropod dead! Oh the humanity!...*crunch* Son of a...!

*sniff* I am Pisser, Destroyer of Worlds with My Huge-Ass pontoon-feet, but I didn't mean to do it! I HATE STEPPING ON SNAILS IN THE DARK! *crunch*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! *crunch* AAAAHHHHHHHH...!

I am the Godzilla of the class Gastropoda.

And earlier today, I dropped a Goldfish® on the floor, bent down, picked it up, and threw it in the trash. It hit some other trash, bouncing out of the trash again. I bent down to throw it away for the third time, picked it up, and my zipper busted. Great.

Enough of this I-Love-Lucy-but-lamer shite. I'm sick of being Miss Klutz America. Please pass me the hammer so I can attempt to pull nails out of the wall and only succeed in hitting myself upside my own head with it. That should take care of the problem, and I wouldn't have to smell smoke through the floorboards any more...!

On second thought, don't give me any hard or blunt objects. That would be just about everything. Like the time I went to answer the phone and clocked myself in the head with the receiver. Think of what I could do to the neighbor with common household goods if this is what I do to myself on a near-daily basis.

Have you ever almost put an eye out with your own knee? I hope not. It takes a special kind of stupid. Yes, that's right. I'm fucking talented. I can fall off a pebble or my own shoes. Beat that, Quasimodo Butt.

The only time the clumsiness comes in handy is when stomping and stumbling as loudly as possible on my floor, hoping to convince my malodorous downstairs neighbor to have a self-help eviction.

Now excuse me while I go shove these expired snails through Stinky McReekerson's mail slot.