I Resemble This Remark

Bill Watterson's comic "Calvin & Hobbes" has been a favorite of mine since it came out in 1985. Before then, I was a huge Peanuts fan from a very early age. Among my most precious possessions are about 70 pocket-sized paperbacks from the mid-60s into the 90s, all comic books of Charlie Brown and Snoopy and Linus and Lucy and the rest of the gang.

I like these comics because they are funny. But I think they are funny because they are true.

I wish I could be like this comic strip more often. I manage to jump back up on my feet and say "TaDA!" sometimes, but not often enough. I am pretty famous for making dumb mistakes, for landing on my ample keester, for choosing just the wrong moment to hike up my underwear, or let go a rolling burp, or saying that one perfectly inappropriate thing.

So far, my all time best was telling a man that he looked great after having lost a lot of weight, only to have him tell me that he was dying of AIDS.

Oh.

I have inquired on whether or not the baby has yet kicked when, yes, you see this coming, the woman is not pregnant. I have congratulated parents on their well behaved son, only to find out they have a girl. I have called a skull tattoo "cute" and much as I hate to admit it, I have actually said that "some of my best friends are black/gay/men/women/Mexicans/Republicans/Jews/your sensitivity-point-inserted-here."

On my very first date ever (I was 17), I took a bite of pizza four minutes in, then wore a chunk of black olive in my front incisor tooth for the remainder of the evening. Shouldn't have worried too much, turns out the guy wasn't looking for a boyfriend, just a beard.

But that's another story.

I once served a homeless dinner, which was nice. But in the process of walking the freshly baked cornbread to the table, I said, "Come and get it!" and promptly dumped the entire tray on the floor.

In college, I once responded badly to a handsome young man I had admired from afar. He had decided to get my attention by tickling me in the ribs from behind. Without thinking, I elbowed him in the stomach then turned around and immediately kicked him in the nuts and dropped him to the floor.

He did not ask me out, as I had hoped he might.

And neither did his friends.

But again, that's another story.

But this comic gives me hope. It reminds me that the falling over part is inevitable, but the "TaDA" is optional.

Today, I am still a little down, but I can imagine myself getting up soon. I hope that I will have the presence of mind to make it look like a triumph. Or at least give it the old college try.

But if I don't, I'm sure I will have many, many, many more times to practice in the near future.
Clunk.
TaDA!