I Didn’t Trip and Fall (This Time)
If my life had a bloopers reel, it would contain hundreds (possibly thousands) of scenes of me tripping and falling on my face. In holes. On bumps. Down stairs. UP stairs. Over absolutely nothing at all.
Seriously, I trip about once a week with a spectacular fall at least monthly.
The (possibly) most cringe-worthy spill happened in college. My boyfriend and I went to a fancy restaurant, and there was a staircase leading directly into the middle of the dining room. About halfway down the stairs, my heel caught on the carpet, and I fell to my knees. Fortunately, my hand caught the railing so I was able to hoist myself back up fairly quickly (and without too many people noticing). But then I took one more step and fell AGAIN. This time I didn’t catch myself, and I slid on my knees down several stairs as the entire room of fancy diners watched. I was able to grab a hold of the railing, only my bracelet got stuck on something. It broke and flew across the room. Along with my dignity.
I trip and fall so often I was fairly certain it would happen during my reading in the 2015 Listen to Your Mother Portland show.
The day of the performance, I was pretty nervous about that and turned to my friends on social media.
If I trip on stage and/or fall flat on my face tonight, I can assure you it was 100% intentional. #LTYM #Portland
— Foxy Wine Pocket (@FoxyWinePocket) May 7, 2015
Fortunately for me, Mr. Foxy arranged for some calming aids to be delivered to our hotel room hours before the show.
I even shared with him. (I’m nothing if not a giver.) I’m not gonna lie, though. I was still incredibly nervous.
This is me being nervous. Also possibly needing some Botox between my eyebrows. But I only eat pork products, I don’t inject them into my face.
Fortunately for me, the women in the cast were so fucking amazing and supportive. They helped calm me down. We had already been cheering each other on for months, and that day was no different. We (sometimes literally) held each other up.
I love all of them so much, I took selfies with each cast member, but they all came out awful (of me, not them). Thank goodness Carisa took this Ellen-inspired groupie of us backstage, which will be saved in my memory box for eternity.
But honestly, while waiting to take the stage, I was still pretty anxious. About stumbling. About face-planting. About possibly peeing my pants. Bart was there to support me, but he mostly just made the nervous pee trips less comfortable.
Bart and I are getting ready to go on stage. Wish us luck. #LTYM #Portland
— Foxy Wine Pocket (@FoxyWinePocket) May 8, 2015
Here I am watching a story on the green room monitor waiting to go on deck. It’s a piece by Kelli with some incredible funny, but clearly, from the expression on my face, I can’t laugh—otherwise I’ll vomit.
But guess what? I didn’t trip. Or fall. Or barf. Or even accidentally spit on the audience. (Sorry to disappoint anyone.) In fact, I felt pretty good about my performance. I read it well, and the audience really responded to it. (Mr. Foxy even mentioned some people behind him were cry-laughing. That’s my Holy Grail.) I got to talk about sharts and yelled, “What the fuckity-fuck?” to a packed house.
‘Cuz I’m Klassy like that.
I read “Motherhood Is Disgusting” because it is sometimes. I’ll post the YouTube video when it is released in July. (However, I will not be watching said YouTube video because I just can’t. You’ll have to watch it for me and let me know what you think.)
Listen to Your Mother was an amazing experience. The cast started out as complete strangers. And even though all of our stories were sooooo different (just like the storytellers), we bonded instantly after the first rehearsal. Then, we continued to encourage each other in the weeks leading up to the show and as we each went on stage that evening. Finally, the Portland audience was so warm and fun and awesome. (Just like Portland.) If you have a story to tell, I highly encourage you to share yours at a city near you if you can. It really is life-changing.
Lest you think everything was perfect, I can assure you that it was not. I spilled coffee all over myself at the airport. And I tripped (twice) on the neighbor’s lawn when I got home.
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