Crash Bandicoot

If you have spent anytime around Matthew and I, you have no doubt heard the ridiculous nicknames he picks out for me: Cheetoh, Chicken Nugget Breath, Chucko, Turd Ferguson. Oh, the horror! He is a funny, funny man. The latest is this post's title, Crash Bandicoot. Yes, my husband refers to me only as Crash Bandicoot. The "crash" part I get, I have been quite entertainingly destructive and clumsy lately. But "bandicoot"? What the heck is a bandicoot anyway? I found this lovely creature when I searched. Mouselike, with a longer nose and ears. I never really knew a bandicoot was a real thing. Thanks honey, I remind you of a rat with a ginormous nose and ears. I prefer to think of the video game character that I am specifically named after.

So, to back up a little, I have been extraordinarily clumsy lately . What do I mean you ask? Oh, let's see. . . . (1)I was opening a new bag of cereal [Raisin Bran Crunch for those interested] and ripped the bag all the way down the side and pretty much destroyed the bag. Now, each time I pour cereal from the bag it pours into the box as well. Yep. (2)The last couple of places we have gone together (campus, department stores, etc.), I always seem to trip over NOTHING. I will have this big dramatic flop and whip around to see the big hole or uneven spot on the floor that I stumbled on and. . . . there is none. I keep looking [trying to prove I am not crazy] and Matthew has a good laugh. Keep laughing Professor, what goes around comes around. (3) I was using the apple slicer on the stove top's surface and I almost completely caved in the top of the stove. My strength was superhuman-like and Matthew called me "Hulk". What have I done to deserve these horrible nicknames? (4)Matthew thinks I can't drive correctly. This problem is really more chronic for us though. I believe that I am a very safe driver. I rarely get honked at, cursed at, or flipped off. But everytime Matthew rides in the car with me, we have a near-death experience. Why is this so? I am going to defend myself here and say that maybe the fault is with the passenger and not the driver. Mmmm huh. If my co-pilot wasn't distracting me, I would do just fine. So beware people, I am a dangerous person.