21 April 2007

The Misadventures of My Ass

So last night, as I descended the stairs to the dungeon of my bi-level, I DID NOTHING WRONG. I was just walking down the goddamn stairs. I was happy and cozy in my nice cozy pants and my nice regular socks and in my arms I carried a nice fluffy furry girl (Baby, best cat ever) and was getting ready to enjoy a nice St. Pauli Girl with some nice TV. Let me reiterate that I did NOTHING wrong.

The poo-carpet attacked. It threw me off, and it took all of my presence of mind to keep my head from hitting the railing while I thumped down 6 stairs to land in a dazed pile on the cheap vinyl fake tile landing. With a spectacular, benevolent nod from the universe, my ever-so-delicate ass (rather than my spinal cord or skull, you see) absorbed much of the shock. [My sad little non-ass. My nickname-inducing "The-Buttless-Wonder"-ass.] So much of the fall was neutralized by such a small posterior endowment that, in fact, despite temporarily losing the trust of the fluffiest girl in the world (of course, cats are always kind of mad anyway), my beer was still drinkable. And lucky thing, because the pain would have set in not long after my brain unjiggled. My ass came through for me. So while the world laughs at my ass, I know now and always that the universe smiles at my ass.

JH can appreciate this miracle.


Anonymous JH said...

I'm glad everything worked out on your end (pun intended).
I have a similar story, though I was not carrying a cat or a beer. I bounced down three slippery wooden steps (not unlike the hypothetical "frictionless surface" I learned so much about in college physics). In the interest of time, space and decency, I'll just leave you with a descriptive title to my story: "Jacob and the Amazing, Technicolor Buttcheek."

May the ass be with you.


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