I am extremely clumsy. I know, cliche for a socially awkward moose, but it’s true. My legs are constantly covered in bruises to the point where sometimes I wonder if perhaps one of my ancestors had an affair with a banana and I inherited its bruise-y skin.
a picture of my legs on a good day.
But all banana infidelities aside, sometimes my clumsiness can lead to extremely awkward situations. Like “oops! I fell and lit your prized stamp collection on fire. Sorry?” I have never understood stamp collections. (More on that later)
although, this is a pretty badass stamp.
The other day I was filling up my car with gas, when suddenly my car door jumped out of nowhere and hit me in the temple. It hurt like hell fire. Or stepping on a Lego. It was not pretty.
All the while, I was being observed by an old woman filling her car with gas. This woman looked scandalized by my wincing in pain, or perhaps by my inability to avoid walking into car doors. She kept. looking. at. me. Like this:
So what’s an awkward moose to do?
Well the most ~~mature and self respecting thing~~ possible of course! I climbed in my car and hid underneath the dashboard until the woman left, every so often I would peek out and check if she was still looking at me. She was. Looking as if I had committed some horrible crime against humanity. For a good 7 minutes and 34 seconds. Then she finally left and I drove my car home, deeply shamed by my clumsiness.
I looked like this, except less adorable and more awkward.
But now I’m writing about it on the internet! So I get the last laugh! Hahaha! If you are reading this judgmental patron of Chevron in Del Mar, California, you ma’am, are an asshole!
Moses (and his Papa) think so too.