What is a mutant? The slang definition is: One that is suggestive of a genetic mutant, as in bizarre appearance or inaptitude.
Hmmmmm.......
Anyone who has ever spent more than five minutes with me knows that I use my hands when I speak. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked if I can talk AND sit on my hands at the same time. The answer? No. I think I would rather not speak at all. I am a VERY expressionate person and my face and my hands are always getting into the conversation. I do so when I'm on the phone or when I have a conversation with someone in person.
Now I understand this adds character, but it also creates a safety hazard...one for myself and for others. I can't tell you how many times I have hit myself in the face. Sometimes it's with my hands, sometimes with the phone, I even once burned my chin with a cigarette at Magic Mountain and I'm still not quite sure how THAT happened.
I am obviously used to the dangers of my flying hands at this point in my life, however there are many a poor soul who aren't. Thank God I've quit smoking, as this quite possibly saved y'all from future injury. I have burned SO many people from talking with a cigarette in hand. I have mainly burned arms and once in Phoenix, burned a woman's thigh/butt because her skirt was so short and the slut walked by during an intense conversation I was having with a man on a couch in a club, and my cigarette was waving around as she walked by. That was the closest I've ever come to getting into a bar fight and somehow I got her to believe it was her fault.
One of the worst incidents was in Kentucky. I was having drinks with a couple of my friends at a beloved Irish pub. Somehow I started talking about the Men Without Hats' song, "Safety Dance". They were confused and I started singing it and then did the actual "Safety Dance" where you raise both arms straight into the air and then lean them to the left so your left arm is straight out from your shoulder and your right arm is curved towards the left over your head. Now typically I'd just look like an idiot doing this. Unfortunately, I had a cigarette in my right hand as I did the Safety Dance and as I sang, "Do the Safety Da-Ance" and curved my arms to the left, a very large cowboy walked by me.
The Safety Dance met the Rhinestone Cowboy and sparks flew like the Fourth of July. People actually ducked to avoid the burning pieces of my cherry flying about. It was dang near violent, one could say. The large cowboy looked PISSED!
"Oh my God! I'm SO sorry!" I apologized as I stood up to observe the large hole in the arm of his shirt.
He glared at me. "My girlfriend just sent me this shirt."
"I'm so sorry. I will pay for it. I will buy you a new one."
A grin spread across his gruff face and he laughed and smacked me on the shoulder. "That's okay darlin' I was planning on breaking up with her anyways."
So I avoided that one. I thought that was the worst I've accidentally hurt someone in my own, personal Bermuda Triangle. And until three weeks ago, that was the case.
THE TIME: Around 2 PM on Saturday, February 12th
THE PLACE: St. Edwards Park
THE WITNESSES: Chad, Lorrel & Kalene
THE VICTIM: I don't know. I never saw his face. I only hit it.
The four of us had just started out on our nature hike and were yammerin' away. Part of the trail was particularly muddy, so we were walking around the edges of it. WE were. Not everyone walked around the mud. Maybe if they had, no one would've gotten hurt.
I don't know what I was talking about but I was staring at the ground to navigate around the mud. I was into whatever I was saying and was, as usual, flailing both hands around to emphasize whatever I was saying. And then I heard Chad, "Heather! Heather! Heather!" But it was too late. My hand had to emphasize the word, "What?" in response to the warning, and then it happened...CRACK!!! My talkative hand smacked some random jogger right upside the face. I kid you not. It was hard. I got him good. And he kept on jogging by.
If only he'd gone AROUND the mud. If only he'd followed the cyclist's mantra of yelling, "On your right!". If only I could keep my hands at my side.
I was shocked! Stunned! I asked my friends why he didn't stop. Chad noted I HIT the man in the face. And I had. I hit him hard. I got him good. And as I said before, he just jogged on by.
I really need to practice sitting on my hands.
