Goofy, Silly and Weird Stories about Me

I won’t lie: I ain’t perfect. But you already knew that, right? I am imperfectly human, full of bright ideas, big dreams and passion. Smart, compassionate and strong. I am also a human klutz, ding-dong, obtuse, tunnel-vision impaired and odd. Today, I’m focusing on the latter and sharing some stories that well … maybe don’t paint me in the best (intelligent) light but are very Tanya. Thankfully, I also believe laughter is the best medicine, even when it involves laughing at myself.

Scrambled Eggs Are Harder to Make than I Realized

Growing up, I had a Saturday morning ritual: cartoons and making fried eggs for breakfast. It felt very urbanite to this small town girl. One day, I decided to be adventuresome and make scrambled eggs. My mom explained that I had to stir my eggs before I poured them into the skillet. After she left to run an errand, I melted some butter in my cute, little cast iron skillet, poured in my egg mixture, put the lid on and walked away to make my toast. After I buttered my toast and cut it into triangles (so fancy!), I lifted the lid, expecting to miraculously see fluffy scrambled eggs. Instead, it was more a burnt egg pancake. My Mom neglected to mention that I needed to stir the eggs while they cooked. Oops. I was very literal as a child.

Toddler Teaches Farm Girl about Combines

One night I was babysitting for one of my regular families and it was just me and Sam (not his real name). He was about 3 years old and this was the first time we were solo without his big sister there to provide reassurance (to both of us) and to help me decipher what he was saying. We were both feeling a bit (a lot) anxious, so to keep him occupied (and happy), I grabbed a toy tractor and start driving it, while making the much needed, although technically inaccurate, vroom, vroom noises. He seemed quite pleased by all my vrooming but did stop me because I was driving the combine backwards. Both my Dad and Grandpa hung their heads in shame when this farm girl regaled them with her faux pas.

Sam also had to help me get past level 1 in Super Mario Brothers. He was maybe 4 or 5. In my defense, I only ever played video games when I babysat him.

Tree Hugger. And Killer.

This is not one of my proudest moments because who walks into a tree and kills it? I do. We had been at my cousin’s for some family gathering and I was walking forward, but looking behind me and waving good-bye. Until my Aunt shouted, “Tanya! Stop!” The tree was really thin and new so I never felt the tree when I “walked” into it and bent it over. I jumped back and the tree boinged upright. Sadly, I noted later in the season that tree had been replaced, so I probably really owe my Aunt and Uncle a tree. I also maintain you cannot prove with 100% certainty that I was the trauma that murdered the tree. 😀

Shoes: Both My Love and Pain

One of my friends complained to me about her bursitis, which was perfectly fine, except that I suffered from hypochondriac tendencies. I made all the acceptable sympathetic noises during our conversation and the next day my hip was giving me all sorts of trouble. Thus, I immediately assumed that I had bursitis too, until I sat down and noticed something odd. One shoe was black. And the other shoe was brown. The black shoe also had a slightly higher heel, hence the hip pain. I never said I was a rocket scientist, people!

Now I obviously needed to change my shoes but how? I worked with a bunch of men in production at a TV station, so they wouldn’t notice my shoes, but the newsroom people would be a different story. Because, you know, they are paid to be observant. And also girls. Girls pay attention to shoes. So lied. I told the director, I left my curling iron on and had to go home. He rolled his eyes and let me go. I felt bad (sort of) about lying but they would have mercilessly teased me about it forever. To be fair, I’d have done the same to them.

This is not the end of my shoe drama.

I also tripped over a pair of shoes and badly sprained my ankle … twice.

Republicans Would Hate My Bathroom Confusion

So you know how you get familiar with a place and just know where things are supposed to be … like the bathroom. And maybe, just maybe, you’re not really paying attention and walk into a restroom full of fascinating (and mildly horrifying) contraptions. You marvel at these modern wonders and can’t figure out why urinals are in the wom— oh, shit. This was the men’s restroom, not the women’s restroom! I froze in both embarrassment and terror, but fortunately no one was in there with me. And no one saw me leave either. Whew.

Another time, I walked into the restroom and right into a man. I was like, “oh, excuse me!” and he just turned beet red and ran out. That’s when I realized that I was in the right bathroom. He wasn’t. Also, he belonged to my Church. We avoided each other for a while, although I’d obviously already been there, done that … so who really cares?

Now It’s Your Turn

So if you’ve fallen up the stairs or misplaced your OJ and spent 30 minutes searching for it to finally find it the cabinet where you store your glasses, don’t worry — you are not alone. 😀 After all, it would be super boring if we were all perfect. And never forget, the person claiming to never have done anything remotely lame or silly — has some major stupid skeletons in her/his closet, because doing dumb stuff is part of the human experience.

I told you some of my silly stories, now you tell me one about yourself!

Tanya

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