This Is Why I Can't Have Nice Things

Last night, Dara, Robert, and I went back in time in music. A music time warp happened in my living room. It was kind of amazing and a little nostalgic. I don’t know how it started, but we began in 2005 and made it to early 1990s ska. The music we listened to during the years 2002-2005 was pretty depressing, you guys. Like, living in your parents’ basement depressing. A lot of angst. Why did we enjoy that kind of music?

I understand why we enjoyed this:

Still enjoy it.

I Digress.

I have to be honest with you guys: I can’t have nice things. I don’t think I’m a klutz, but nice things tend to go in downward spiral after they come into contact with me.

My iPad fell face down in a parking lot when I got out of Dara’s car a few months ago.

My car told me the other day that it was using reduced engine power, and then it said a word I’ve never heard before. It seems to be back in working order…all the lights went out, at least.

My laptop speaks to me in Russian about Coors Light. I don’t know why. The volume isn’t even on.

I destroyed four tank tops, one blouse, and two pairs of tights in a dryer last summer – in one week.

I broke a necklace this morning.

I dropped my iPhone face down in a parking lot after owning it for one week - before I had a case on it. This was outside of Dara’s car…I need to keep my Apple products away from Dara’s car. Bad things happen.

Chase has called me “a hot mess” at least five times this year.

I think Robert is secretly afraid to let me ride in his truck.

I did unclog a bathtub once without breaking anything.

Though, one time I ripped a shower curtain off of the shower curtain rod. Granted, I was falling out of the shower and I needed some resistance.

One time when I was a kid, I stepped on a window pane that was laying on the floor.  Super clean, because I didn't think there was glass in it.

My cousins and I wrecked a golf cart into a tree once.  I don't remember if we ever told our parents.  They know now.

Surprisingly, I've only broken one plate in the last year.  It was on purpose.  I was in a bad place.

I never put the fax machine ribbon in correctly at work.  When we actually get a fax, it leads to destruction.

Maybe I am a klutz.

Most of the things I own came from Target or I bought it half off at Hobby Lobby. If I break it or stain it, I don’t feel too bad.

When I have children, they won’t be the reason we can’t have nice things. I will be the reason. I’m fully prepared to take responsibility for breaking things. I’m fully prepared to blame my children for the things I break.



The moral to this story: Don't buy me anything nice when my birthday gets here in less than eight months.  :)

I really needed to get all of that off my chest.    Happy Friday!  I hope everyone has a great weekend.  I have a date with Bob Schneider tomorrow night.  I don't like facial hair, but that man grows a nice beard.  So does Bob Harper.  Must be the name Bob.