Luck-quality is a bubble wrap that protects you when you are struck down by a glimpse of uncertainty. My bubble wrap unfortunately decided to scoot off somewhere in-between not being the proper age in 1997 for having everly MMMBop hunk Taylor Hanson as my imaginary boyfriend, and being chosen to make a convincing performance as a dog in a sheep costume. Being in the wrong place at the right time is a natural force of the life of me. The glorious happening of stepping in dog poop is a popular accidental moment, and I have had the pleasure of doing so, many times. I once stepped in a dog poop that could have been produced by something highly likely to tour the world with this big ass sized act. The outcome of this creature was so big that my foot didn’t even make its way through the flob of poop. Instead I ended up sliding through what seemed like a festival toilet on day three, somehow bending my legs and knees in my personally voted most awkward position ever. My idiotic attempt to do a lady like after-tripping-walk-of-shame didn’t succeed very well either. My stepping- in- poo- meter has an uncontrollable high frequency. After a very eventful walk on the monkey trail in a Danish zoo my family and I decided to drive through the lion park. As we drove through the gate and accessed the park, a funky smell appeared in the car, and it turned out that my unluckiness had shined upon me once again. I had stepped in monkey poo while happily walking on the monkey trail. Of course. The zoo had one rule for driving in the lion park. Do not open the windows. I wasn’t picked for family member of the week that week.
I have become surprisingly talented in handling moments like these, just as a private heroic move to escape the embarrassment.