I'm told you can't have a blog without posting on it.

So here's to you complainers like Whitney and Rachel.  What if I wanted to maintain my hidden identity and just post on people's blogs undetected?  Seriously.  I think it's an important thing to have a secret identity...there is, after all, a chance that one day I may need to protect my loved ones from some deep, dark, secrety...thing...from my past...

I digress.

So here it is.  My first post, in which you learn a bit about me, Liz, aka the Captain, and possibly my greatest and most noticeable feature:  I am clumsy.  As an example of said clumsiness, I present you with the most exciting thing that has happened this week (so far...it IS only Tuesday after all), and you can already tell it's going to be amazing because of these spoilers: BLOOD and FUTURAMA.

You see, I live in the midwest.  Which means that last weekend it was fifty degrees out, and then yesterday it was like twenty degrees with freezing rain.  All.  Day.

So I got home from my nannying job, did my yoga, ate a sammich, and then when my roommate got home (she is the Keeper of the Mail Key), I retrieved the Mail Key.  For, in the mail, I was expecting.....the first disc.....of the new season.....of Futurama.  GLORIOUS!

I had my whole evening planned out.  I would wait for my fiance to come over after he finished work, and we would stay up and watch the entire disc!  And it would be SO fun!  And oh, how we would laugh at the exploits of Bender!  And those other funny-but-less-so characters!

Alas.  It was not meant to be.

I stepped out on my front porch, carefully positioning a brick in the door frame to keep the door propped so I wouldn't get locked out, and then started to make for the mailbox.

Swiftly, of course, because it was cold.

Only....I was wearing moccasins which have no tread.  And the sidewalk was a sheet of ice.

I can still picture it in my brain, although it happened so quickly I didn't really know what was happening until I was on the ground, on my face.

My head bounced off the pavement and I saw my glasses skid across the ice.  And, being the practical (and practically blind) girl that I am, my first thought was, OH NO!  NOT MY GLASSES!

I reached for my glasses to save them from their impending doom and destruction, only to realize that my glasses were fine, but my face....OH no.....where is this blood COMING from?

If you're like me, and have had innumerable years of orthodontists doing mean, mean things to you, like giving you retainers that make you schpeak like you got a mouthful o' schpit, and tightening your braces until your face feels like it's in a vise, and giving you rubber bands to put on your brackets so your jaws are all clamped down....and THEN, you think of breaking one of your perfectly straight and in-line teeth...you probably have an idea of the panic that was coursing through my mind.

Also, did I mention I'm getting married?  Like, in May?  Yeah, so...a bride with no front teeth?  No....fricking...way.

So of course the first thing I did was check my teeth.  Shaking with cold and the fear that I was going to feel a mouth full of broken teeth, I gingerly fingered my mouth.  Oh, thank God!  No broken teeth!  I pulled my hands away....so....much....blood.  At which point I went into hysterics.  "Oh my God....Oh God....Oh my God....."  They were definitely prayers at this point, I wasn't taking the Lord's name in vain.  I can't think of anything WORSE to do than to offend God right at a dramatic point  where you MAY be speaking to him very intimately very soon.

At that point, I saw the mail key lying on the ground and reached to pick it up.  A thought crossed my mind....am I okay enough to go get my Futurama?  I thought about it for a moment until blood dripped all over the key, and it seemed obvious that no, I must go inside.  So, leaving a rather noticeable trail of blood all the way to my door and up the stairs to my apartment, I walked in, sobbing and holding my face.  My Roommate realized something was wrong when she heard the crying, so she walked into the living room and said, "Are you okay??".....and then she saw the blood, and heard me crying, "GET A TOWEL!!!" and she realized that, no, things were definitely NOT okay.

So we went in the bathroom and I washed my face to try to figure out where the blood was coming from...and amidst a flurry of obscenities and weeping and bleeding, we finally got my face looking less like that of a stab-wound victim and more like a very bloody, teary Liz-face.  And we finally made the discovery.

"It's your chin, it's your chin!" Roommate Key-Keeper informed me (because in an emergency, it's protocol to say everything at least twice to get your point across.  I'm pretty sure I repeated myself for hours following this incident).  We examined the chin-wound.  You know how it looks when your dog slips and skids on a rug and makes it wrinkle up like an accordion?  Picture that...on my chin.  And my skin is the rug.  Or, as Roommate later put it, "You have a second mouth!!!"

Roommate, upon making this discovery, immediately looked close to vomiting, and said, "We have to go to the hospital."  I, already in hysterics, began to cry like a five-year-old, "NO!!!  Not the HOSPITAL!!! I don't wanna go THERE!!!!!"  Because I knew I was going to have to get stitches (or reconstructive surgery???  or skin grafts???????) and that was scary.  REALLY scary.

However, Roommate Key-Keeper managed to calm me down enough to convince me I HAD to go to the ER.  And I was in delirious five-year-old mode, so I really couldn't argue.  Also Roommate called my parents and they told me I had to go, to.  Alright then.  Off we go.

We got into the car to begin our trek.  I was finally calm, and the more I thought about it the more funny the situation seemed...so my reaction now was to tell jokes.  I can remember two instances that called for a "no pun intended," which is something that should probably NEVER be called for anyway.  But at the time, and in my delirium, it was hilarious.  So Roommate and I giggled all the way to the hospital, and finally I was checked into the ER.

The next part is all pretty boring.  We waited in the ER for four hours.  That's right.  11:30 p.m. was when they finally called me back to a little curtained room with a bed and a TV.  I got to lay there and watch TV while doctors popped in and checked out my second mouth (and possibly snickered at my clumsy mishap) and kept saying, "We'll be in to stitch you up shortly."  But "shortly" in doctor-words actually means "one more hour," so that's how long I had to wait until a nice little black lady came in to stitch me up.

And that's how Liz got a Frankenstein chin.  So kids, watch your butts out there in the snow.  And your faces, as well.

Oh, yeah, this is me with oh-so-supportive-and-worried Fiance.  I'm lucky I didn't lose all my teeth.  Or my nose ring, for that matter.

And P.S.:  The new season of Futurama is not as funny.  That is possibly the saddest part of all.