not to be confused with happy hour, in which i also act like a dumb-ass
Every once in a while, more frequently than I’d like to admit, I have what I refer to as a “Dumb-Ass Hour”. It’s not always an hour exactly, but during that time, I become a total Dumb-Ass. Nothing I do works right, I usually end up getting injured, and if anyone were to film me during the Dumb-Ass Hour, I would certainly win $10,000 from some televised home video show.
Last week’s Dumb-Ass Hour occurred while I was going to Santa Monica to hit the Kiehl’s store before it closed and then to meet friends for dinner nearby. It began as most Dumb-Ass Hours do - with a makeup mishap:
6:15pm: I dropped a mascara wand onto my shirt while doing my makeup and spent 10 precious minutes trying on other tops until I found a suitable replacement.
6:25pm: I started my car and realized I had 15 miles until I would run out of gas. This was enough to get me to Santa Monica and back, but I didn’t want to push it, even though I was running very late and Kiehl’s was closing in 35 minutes.
6:30pm: I stopped at the gas station for a splash-n-go (put in $10 of gas to get me through the night) under the watchful eyes of some people waiting at the bus stop a few feet away. I have no idea why they were watching me. Perhaps they were wishing they owned a car.
6:33pm: I started the car and saw that I now had 11 miles until I’d run out of gas, even though I had just put 4 gallons in. (at least 70 miles worth) ?!
6:34pm: I got out of the car again, opened the gas cap again, used my Amex card again, while getting quizzical looks from everyone waiting at the bus stop. A “Please pay cashier inside” message appeared on the pump. I didn’t have time for this! I put my Visa card in. “Please pay cashier inside.” I let fly several expletives, mostly to offend the bus stop people. I decided to drive to another gas station.
6:37pm: 200 feet from the next gas station, the car next to me honked. “Your gas cap is hanging out!” I never do that! But during Dumb-Ass Hour, anything can happen.
6:45pm: With a full tank of gas, I was on my way and I had 15 minutes until Kiehl’s closed. I would barely make it.
6:58pm: After almost running down two women in a crosswalk (”Outta my way! Moisturizer emergency!”) I ran into Kiehl’s, grabbed the products I needed, paid, and headed for the door, which I almost smashed my face into because they had just locked it for closing time.
7:05pm: I parked at the restaurant and walked across the street to Starbucks, since I was 55 minutes early for dinner. (Moisturizer waits for no woman!) I tripped in the middle of the street and hurt my ankle, while getting honked at for not walking faster. Damn my new boots!
7:10pm: I ordered a gingerbread latte - my newest favorite espresso drink. As I opened my wallet to pay, I sent about 100 coins raining down onto the floor. A nice old man helped me gather them up.
7:14pm: I received my latte and found the only empty seat, which was right near the drafty door. I started to sit down. While doing so, I tugged at the back of my sweater in an attempt to avoid flashing my underwear (low-rise jeans) but instead, the front of my sweater popped down, flashing my bra - and let’s not forget I was near the drafty door. I scanned Starbucks to see if anyone noticed. 5 UPS guys were waiting for their after-work coffees. They noticed.
7:15pm: Dumb-Ass hour concludes with me burning my mouth on scalding hot latte.
As Dumb-Ass Hours go, this one was rather normal, except for the part where I flashed all of Starbucks. Accidental flashing is rare, thank god.
Emil suggests that when I’m having a Dumb-Ass Hour, I need to just stop what I’m doing and take a few minutes to refocus. That is MUCH easier said than done because Dumb-Ass Hour always occurs when I am on a tight schedule. And - Dumb-Ass Hour is equally as much about the universe plotting against me as it is about my own clumsiness, so taking a moment to refocus will only help me so much.
I don’t think Emil has ever had a whole Dumb-Ass Hour. He’ll have a Dumb-Ass Five Minutes, which usually results in some sort of gadget being thrown across the room. Then one of us, usually me, will have a Replacement-Gadget Ordering Hour. This may seem rather costly, but during a recent Dumb-Ass Hour I caused $2000 worth of damage to our car in front of an audience of pedestrians, so replacing a cordless phone or remote control is really no big deal and it’s much less embarrassing.
Although knowing my luck, when the next Replacement Gadget is delivered, the UPS guy will recognize me from Starbucks.
