For those of you who read this column with a degree of regularity, you have perhaps heard of the “Double El Klutzo.” It is a renowned maneuver of clumsiness exhibited by myself and my two brothers, a syndrome inherited from our father.
It is recognized when you step off the sidewalk into the street and massively sprain your ankle in a tiny crack in the road. This must be followed in the same day by another unbelievably simple act like bonking your head on the golf cart as you try to sit back down, demolishing your hat as your partner runs over it when it falls from your head. The “Double El Klutzo” occurs when you have two of these types of acts in one day.
The famed “Triple El Klutzo” takes your demonstrable clod talent to the next level – you must have three body demolitions in one day. This is rare. But it can be done. Witness:
Two weeks ago, I walked our dogs down one of our usual paths. Being the good Samaritan that I am, I saw a beer can in the woods, with some sticker bushes between myself and the can I chose to pick up and return home for recycling. Very gingerly and with expert care, I tamped down the sticker bush with one foot so I could not attack me as I reached for the can.
As I stepped over with the other leg, the back of the sticker bush boinged upwards, raking the back of my calf, sending two long jagged wounds home with me for the day. New curse words emerged from my mouth.
The Double El Klutzo was achieved in my never-ending quest to rid our yard of the devil – buckthorn. This insidious and evil invasive species has a special page in my book of things I hate. I chop it, spray it, pull it, bury it, whatever it takes.
This day was a spray day and as I focused on the buckthorn shoots emerging from the earth, I failed to watch where my head was going (not that we watch our heads all that often). Taking a long stride, I slammed my forehead into a branch, knocking my baseball cap off and opening a two-inch gash that now must be amusingly explained to people who inquire of my forehead scab.
Achieving the Triple El Klutzo, after I thought I’d finished for the day with the double, occurred as I was preparing to make a sandwich and removed a new mustard container given to me by my brother-in-law. As is often the case with things I put away, I failed to secure the lid. Pulling the mustard container out (of course it is a glass container), the top comes off in my hand and the glass jar sails to the slate kitchen floor.
Ever the soccer goalie, I kick the jar to keep it from shattering. This, of course, doesn’t stop half the mustard contents from exploding across the floor. There was a certain righteousness in not smashing the glass, and an internal chuckle knowing that mustard splash spread across five feet of the floor qualified me for the triple.
The Quadruple El Klutzo awaits. I’ve probably done it before, but not catalogued the feat. There is still time. I have the talent. It lurks.
It is recognized when you step off the sidewalk into the street and massively sprain your ankle in a tiny crack in the road. This must be followed in the same day by another unbelievably simple act like bonking your head on the golf cart as you try to sit back down, demolishing your hat as your partner runs over it when it falls from your head. The “Double El Klutzo” occurs when you have two of these types of acts in one day.
The famed “Triple El Klutzo” takes your demonstrable clod talent to the next level – you must have three body demolitions in one day. This is rare. But it can be done. Witness:
Two weeks ago, I walked our dogs down one of our usual paths. Being the good Samaritan that I am, I saw a beer can in the woods, with some sticker bushes between myself and the can I chose to pick up and return home for recycling. Very gingerly and with expert care, I tamped down the sticker bush with one foot so I could not attack me as I reached for the can.
As I stepped over with the other leg, the back of the sticker bush boinged upwards, raking the back of my calf, sending two long jagged wounds home with me for the day. New curse words emerged from my mouth.
The Double El Klutzo was achieved in my never-ending quest to rid our yard of the devil – buckthorn. This insidious and evil invasive species has a special page in my book of things I hate. I chop it, spray it, pull it, bury it, whatever it takes.
This day was a spray day and as I focused on the buckthorn shoots emerging from the earth, I failed to watch where my head was going (not that we watch our heads all that often). Taking a long stride, I slammed my forehead into a branch, knocking my baseball cap off and opening a two-inch gash that now must be amusingly explained to people who inquire of my forehead scab.
Achieving the Triple El Klutzo, after I thought I’d finished for the day with the double, occurred as I was preparing to make a sandwich and removed a new mustard container given to me by my brother-in-law. As is often the case with things I put away, I failed to secure the lid. Pulling the mustard container out (of course it is a glass container), the top comes off in my hand and the glass jar sails to the slate kitchen floor.
Ever the soccer goalie, I kick the jar to keep it from shattering. This, of course, doesn’t stop half the mustard contents from exploding across the floor. There was a certain righteousness in not smashing the glass, and an internal chuckle knowing that mustard splash spread across five feet of the floor qualified me for the triple.
The Quadruple El Klutzo awaits. I’ve probably done it before, but not catalogued the feat. There is still time. I have the talent. It lurks.
