43. Run into a plate glass window.

You’re in the kitchen, frying up some bacon – as you are wont to do at 3pm on any given day of the week – when a bloodcurdling scream is heard emanating from the bowels of your backyard. You stiltedly lunge for the window, spraying yourself with copious amounts of grease in the process, and glance outside. You see nothing. Reaching for some ointment to soothe the third-degree burns you’ve just sustained, you hear another shout of panic. You throw open the curtains to reveal your buddy in the backyard, holding a large bone and shouting “I found a femur!”

Screw the bacon! There’s a femur in your backyard! You throw on some shoes, tear off your “I *heart* Rachel Ray” apron, and bolt for the door, grabbing your video camera on the way out. Nothing can get in the way of this perfect moment. Nothing.

Except for a giant sheet of glass. You slam into it with the force of a thousand elephants, which is appropriate, as the sound you are now making is equivalent to that of a wounded pachyderm. You writhe around on the floor, blindly groping for some sort of explanation as to why you are not in the backyard yet. What is this mysterious force field? Why is it surrounding your house? And why does it now feature a smudgy imprint of your sweaty body, complete with limbs akimbo?

As you slowly regain both your consciousness and your ability to reason, you eye a suspicious-looking bottle of Windex perched ever so precariously on a nearby table. “Damn you, incredibly effective cleaning product!” you scream, choking its plastic neck. Your buddy, meanwhile, is now surrounded by a camera crew and talking to Larry King via satellite, already having secured a number of book and movie deals.

So if you want to suck at life, run into a plate glass window. You now possess both a broken nose and a broken spirit, but don’t worry – you won’t feel the pane.


***Thanks to paperdreamer for the suggestion, and to my family for finding a femur in the backyard.


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