When I was seven, my mother labeled me a “klutz,” a Yiddish term for someone who is more than a bit rhythmically challenged. It also meant, at the point I internalized this nickname, that I lost all coordination. I tripped, I fell, and I, of course, bruised easily.
But then I turned eight– and in a miraculous turn of events– I outgrew my klutz stage. I began taking modern dance classes, experimenting with tap, and learning to walk in a straight line while entirely sober. I was the Jewish J.Lo., tush and all. And I was certain that I would one day be a backup dancer for Britney Spears. This was before I realized Orthodox Jewish women don’t dance in front of men. And that while I was a good(ish) dancer, I was not Britney good.
Even though I never made it into a sold out pop princess tour, I thought I had mastered the art of balance and basic rhythmic coordination. However, I forgot one caveat: All rules are null and void in the absence of caffeine.
This explains why today, on route to my new favorite coffee shop where my tattoo-laden barista was soon to ask me out, I walked right into a parked truck- umbrella in hand. Yes, somehow I managed to stumble sideways into the, ironically enough, Boar’s Head all-you-can-eat-bacon truck.
And instead of acknowledging my own klutzy demeanor, I began to whack the truck with my umbrella. My violent outburst propelled the pig-loving driver to run out of his vehicle and pry my weapon of choice from my albino-colored hands.
“Girl, what is the matter with you?”
“I haven’t had a cup of coffee, and your bacon-dealing truck just about killed me. G-d damn bacon!”
“Um, do you hear yourself? You are claiming my stationary truck ran into you–”
“Um, you do realize I haven’t had my morning latte yet?”
And with that, he returned my umbrella to me. He also threw in a $5 bill and said, “Go get your sanity back, on me.” I smiled, hugged him (despite the fact that he reeked of swine), and promised to put his money to immediate use. Which I did less than 60 seconds later, the point at which the tattoo king asked me if I was single, and I responded, “Make it a venti please, and I’ll think about it.”
I’m still thinking. And right now I’m thinking I need a Coffee Daddy.