the year of falling...

2014 will forever be known as The Year of Falling. {alternate titles: how the gingerbread people took their revenge; the year I eviscerated my life and broke my face}. The year I left everything I know, got a job in New York, and moved to the big city to chase my dream of singing. And fabulousness. It's all very romantic really. {cue Stacy's entrance...}

I have a confession to make ... I am a faller. I have always been a faller. It's really rather ridiculous. When I was 3 years old, my mother put me in ballet classes because I couldn't walk across the kitchen floor without falling down. Clearly nothing has changed. Except I fall with a bit more grace. I'm the Ginger Rogers of falling.

You see it all began with a roommate Xmas party. We decided we were going to build a gingerbread house and watch movies. And then we decided that since our version of the gingerbread house was not going to look like Martha Stewart's {how do people get them to look so effing perfect?}, perhaps it needed to have a crime scene. So I bit off a gingerbread man's arm and the rest, as they say, is history.

someone call Criminal Minds!

Perfection. One gingerbread house, three Xmas movies, and hours of girl talk later I decided that I was going to create a crime scene of my very own ... and then THERE WAS A UNICORN STAMPEDE AND I WAS TRAMPLED. I know. Living in the city is very, very dangerous. Unicorn herds at every turn ~ especially this time of the year. They *love* the holidays ... effing tourist unicorns, amiright? ... or rather Smurfs broke into our apartment and tried to take me down Gulliver style. I put up a very valiant fight! I did not, no matter what you may have heard, slip on absolutely nothing in the very flat, very safe hallway in my apartment and fall on my face. A hallway where the walls are so close together I could use them as motherfucking handrails. At least the other two times I fell this year, there were stairs involved and I could blame them. That's right, I said two. Stop your judging and move along to the next paragraph.

And let me just say, when I fall I go all. the. way. Blood everywhere. {not unlike our gingerbread house. did someone say "foreshadowing?"} ... and everywhere includes pooling in my hands as I crawled into the bathtub. I don't know why. My sainted roommates called an Uber {seriously ~ they should be sainted by Pope Benedict Cumberbatch} and rode with me to the hospital. And yelled at people to give me pain meds and stitches and not be jerks in general. And stayed with me literally all night and morning until, finally, I went home. cried because I wanted to go home. started looking for hot doctors. was admitted to the hospital because my jaw was broken in two places and I needed emergency surgery. 

the hospital clearly understands my need to accessorize!
I'm thinking this should be a permanent addition given recent events.

And then Matt and I made a deal. I was going to go into surgery, and he was going to find us doctor dates. So I went with the anesthesiologist {I was, apparently, very charming ~ he loved my unicorn story.}, and Matt went to the waiting room. Sounds like a great plan, no? He clearly had the easier task. After all, I was going to have my face sliced into pieces and he was going to choose from the multitude of beautiful men at the hospital. *you had one job.* But I digress. He did, however, give me his chapstick when I asked for some in my anesthesia-induced stupor following surgery even though my face was again covered in my own blood. {I'm seeing a pattern here that I don't really care for...}

So here we are ... one week before Christmas and some of the best food of the entire year, and I'm on a liquid diet for the next 4 weeks. If someone figures out a way to give me a cheeseburger that isn't completely and totally disgusting, I'm all ears. Because the idea of liquified meat is just ... ew. Also pizza.

Luckily, Dr. McDreamy didn't, in fact, need to wire my jaw shut. He did insert 2 titanium plates in my face so now I'm basically the bionic woman. I am the only person I know who is so adept at the falling that I can break my own jaw with no obstacles. And I'm really, really hoping this is a trend that ends with the year 2014. After all, it started with a bang. I could really use an entire year without potentially life-altering injuries or feeling like I'm in some kind of real-life version of "Final Destination."

{end note ~ I'm going to be fine and the doctor says I should be singing again in no time. I may, however, want to consider training wheels. Something tells me those don't come factory installed on Manolos...}