PSA

LizzieLou | accident prone,nablopomo | Friday, November 28th, 2008

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Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Broken

LizzieLou | accident prone,employment history,nablopomo | Sunday, November 2nd, 2008

My first paying jobs were babysitting gigs. The first baby I sat for was my sister, but I don’t think I got to collect on those. I did a pretty good job, except for this one time later on. I got home from school and started drinking all the leftover wine and eating all the leftover cake from my Dad’s 50th birthday party the weekend before. I welcomed my sister home from kindergarten, got her a snack, and watched a little Thundercats. Then I drunk-dialed my friend I loved to tell her how much I loved her. Then I passed out. Then I threw up. Then I was in the basement trying to wash out my clothes. Then the garage door opened. My dad came home. I passed out again and he’s mocked me about it ever since.

Before I became delinquent I spent a summer being the daytime sitter for a kid down the street. He was only a few years younger than I was, but I guess his mother thought I was a better option than leaving him alone, and cheaper than a real nanny. It was bit like having a younger brother. We spent most days playing; of course we had to play crap he wanted to play. This included playing GI Joes, golf on the front lawn, realtor-and-buyer (a company his mother worked for), and number of law enforcement games. (He is now a real police detective.) We watched a lot of television, and made a point of stopping whatever we were doing to watch Inspector Gadget. We ate a lot of those plastic sleeves of frozen fruit-flavored goo. Once, against my better judgment, we attempted to make taffy. This resulted in rock-hard and glass-sharp sugar burned on the bottom of his mother’s cookware. It kept cutting me as I tried to chisel it out. She couldn’t have been too pleased about that. Some days we would rollerskate, until I attempted to skate down a very small grass covered slope and sprained my wrist.

The best part of this gig was that they had an in-ground pool with a deep-end and a diving board. I had some lifeguard training with the Girl Scouts. The kid was a good swimmer, so I was really able to have a good time in the pool. I used to like to push-up hard from the bottom of the pool and burst through the surface like Superman flying, until I burst up under the diving board and met it with the bridge of my nose. Broken? Maybe. It bulged up, but I pushed it back down, twice, and iced it. Good as new.

When I was in high school I started doing regular evening gigs for a family from church. They had a baby girl (who is now a conservative co-ed in Florida) and a very skitchy Siamese cat that I believed to be possessed by the Devil. When the kid wasn’t screaming herself purple it was a pretty easy job. Even after her younger brother (who is now a rednecky soldier dude) came on the scene it was pretty peachy. A little feeding, a little changing, and off to bed. I could spend the rest of the time eating snacks (a small amount from all the multiple offerings of chips and cookies, as to not be a piggo and eat a large and noticeable amount from just one item) and watching Cable TV. That was the best! Movies with boobies!

While there were perks, it wasn’t a job without occasional excitement. There was the time one of the kids convinced me that her parents let her chew gum, and then she started choking. There was that Xmas when the mother drove me home, totally drunk and hiccuping. Then there was the time I had one kid in the high chair and the other one had an accident in her rubber pull-on pants. I quickly brought her into the bathroom and ran upstairs for a clean pair, not wanting to leave either kid alone for more than half a minute. While running back down the carpeted stairs I slipped and landed badly, messing up my ligaments in my ankle, and spent the rest of the evening crawling around and the first half of the summer on crutches.

(Yay. Crutches. They used to be fun.)

 

Lame!

LizzieLou | accident prone | Sunday, October 19th, 2008

It’s been a week since I put a hairline fracture in my fibula and I feel like a ghost. A ghost that sits like a big ol’ lump on the sofa with her foot elevated. I looked out the back window this afternoon and saw how the yard is just frozen in time from last Saturday. I was out there wrestling with the mofo pampas grass and chopped a bunch down. I had just filled up the yard waste container out in the alley and waved hello to a set of neighbors in their minivan when my ankle rolled and crunched. I hobbled back in the house (after pretending, quite deftly I’m sure, that I-meant-to-do-that-and-collapse-here-against-my car-bumper-now-please-drive-away-already-you-neighbors) but my pile of grass choppage and bucket and mower still sit there by the glider all askew.

Here are a few of the things I have learned this past week on the couch:  how to access my work desktop remotely; all about the Puritans; how to get the most out of my iPod; “A Place in the Sun” was much darker than I expected; emperor penguins don’t just do one march but go back and forth to the sea a bunch of times in a single season; there is more to stock purchasing than “buy low, sell high” because you also want to have information about dividends; watching “30 Days of Night” on fast forward still sucked; Gomez can blow a snot bubble out his nose; there’s a super-nsaid kind of pain killer in tablet form now; like Washington, Maine also has two female senators; and, the KiTTeNMiTTeNs can really rock the house.

Street Diving

LizzieLou | accident prone,nablopomo | Sunday, November 18th, 2007

Ever since moving to Seattle, I have taken up the activity of street diving. It’s an extreme sport, not for everyone, and very often I get hurt. But I’m butch like that.

I started off slow and easy, with a little curb-trippin’ and ankle-turnin’. I went like that for a while, nothing too XTREME. I had one really excellent street dive on my way home from work one night as I crossed Broadway. I hit a small pothole and dove for the sidewalk. I landed in the street but the damage was rad. I had to quickly hop up and move because cars started coming, but I got my props anyway. Someone honked and whooped!

It has just been in the last two or three years that I have been doing my most slammin’ dives. My first major dive I did here at home in the basement, for practice and using a prop. I left a plastic hanger on the floor and when I stepped on it, my feet went out from under me real fast and I landed WHAM! flat on the cement. My face bounced off the floor and I gave myself a fat lip. As a practice dive it wasn’t too bad, a little scary perhaps, and more like a belly-flop. I was ready for some gold-medal round diving now, Baby!

I made my second post-work street dive crossing a different street, a much steeper hill and during rush hour. That one was bitch to do, and no one gave the slightest bit of appreciation. I had to limp all three blocks down the rest of the hill with no encore. Both of these post-work street dives consisted mainly of ankle-turnin’. For my next dive, I held off until Lolly could see me and again chose Broadway for maximum exposure. I waited until we were right in front of a restaurant with a lot of people watching and curb-tripped off a tree and onto the sidewalk. BOOF! I showed ankle-turnin’ and knee-slammin’ both! YEAH!!! The people around were stunned into silence, but Lolly was all over me. She was so impressed she offered to go get the car and then later brought me treats and I didn’t have to lift a finger for a couple days.

Now it was all about the audience. When Lolly’s parents came to visit I planned for a special street dive for them during the Art Walk. Walk + Street Diving = Art! I was so nervous that evening and I did it so fast it’s all kind of a blur, but I’m pretty sure repeated the same move I had shown to Lolly before. It didn’t go off as well, wasn’t as slammin’, but I was still kinda proud because I got a GREAT reaction from the in-laws and all the other pedestrians. Every place we went after that I got free food and wine and and stuff from the people sponsoring the event as thanks for my contribution.

Time passed, almost a year, and I was beginning to feel like maybe I wouldn’t be street diving anymore. I mean, I had done some little half-assed twists and plummets while doing yard work and stuff. I belly-flopped the lawn and shrubbery-dove by the front steps when my mom was visiting, but nothing XTREME. Maybe I was feeling like my rep was set; everybody in my family and at work knew of my skillz. They talked about it even without ever seeing what I could really do. I started thinking maybe I didn’t deserve it.

So I took my greatest dive yet. The setting: Broadway, daylight, lunchtime, by the newsstand, and not in front of a family member, but a co-worker. We were walkin’ along, chattin’ and laughin’. I waited until the sidewalk narrowed and she had to move a step in front of me until I did it: a quick light ankle-turn, a bag-whomp, and a real crusher of a knee-slam. I followed this quickly with a side-flop, a bra-flash, and an arm-flail. It. Was. Perfect. My co-worker heard the bag-whomp on the newspaper box and she braced for a gushing head wound, but even I’m not ready for that yet. Still, she was awestruck and her heart was racing. Everybody looked! I sat there for a while just soaking it all in. Some people even stepped right over me! That afternoon my lunch was free and the next day I got to stay home from work totally. About ten days later my knee was some fabulous shades of purple all the way down to my foot. I got X-rays and drugs, Dude. < guitar-riff> XXXTREME!!!! < /guitar-riff>

Last Wednesday I decided to try for distance. Because I hadn’t really done this before, I did it after dark near my house. I got a couple blocks away from the bus stop then dove off the curb into the street. WHOO! Another new move! Most of me landed on my knee of course, because that’s what I’m best known for, but I slid forward as well, only barely achieving a hand-shred. I scooched back to the curb and an unleashed pit-bull-looking dog ran right up on me barking and growling and running around me in circles until his person finally got him under control. That cocksucker had no idea what he had just missed! But his dog knew! I called Lolly right away to come meet me. I thought to ask her to come get me in the car again, but figured it probably wasn’t worth all that so I told her to come join me on foot instead. She was so proud when she saw me. She wrapped her arm around me as I loudly told her about my latest move and the impression that it made on the dog-walker. In my excitement I might have said something about if I ever saw him again I would park my car on his neck, but that was just the adrenaline talking.

I am really looking forward to bigger and better dives. Some people have pointed out to me that I’m getting older now and it’s getting riskier, but that’s what makes it an XTREME sport! And just think what I’ll be able to do if I have my knee replaced with a new one. I’ll be taking street diving to a whole new level!

I can’t wait.

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