No, Allstate does really offer Social Disaster insurance. Not that I don’t need it. Running into picnic tables, spilling certain staining liquids, and general klutziness are all daily occurrences. So as my brain things “Where did I leave that mouldy soda can?” My eyes spot a nice-looking fellow, and at that very instant he spots me my body decides to smack into a car. Of course, this car is of the teeny Tonka-Toy-inspired genre, and its owner most likely a gourmet McDonald’s chef, has obviously spent all of his minimum wages decorating it so it looks identical to all the other Tonka racers. All this glitz causes it to have an alarm, which is shrilly announcing my klutziness. Well, I have successfully gotten Mr. Bicep’s attention… along with a bruise, red face, and still no idea where I left that darn pop can.

And here’s what happened next:

Bicep Boy: Uh… you ok?
Me: Oh, [flirty laugh] I do that all the time.
Bicep Boy: [Revealing hunky white teeth] Yeah right.
Me: [Perma-smiling] No, I do!
Bicep Boy: [Smiling oh-so-hotly] Maybe I ought to give you a rude then, ‘cuz rare beauty shouldn’t be ruined.
Me: [Blushing] Okay…

And we rode off into the sunset… At least we would have if I had that insurance! Instead, no thanks to Allstate, I walked us quickly as I could around the nearest corner. And no surprise here folks – he didn’t follow me. Instead, I think, “Huh. That kinda hurt. No, actually it didn’t. Maybe the blood has to leave my face before I feel pain? Huh. So where did I leave the mouldy carbonated beverage? Hope it’s not in the couch again. Now there’s a funny story! Ooooh, pretty pink fuzzy pants!!” The punk pants I spotted across the way made me forget about hunky hottie + the collision.

Later that day I was vegging in front of Les Miserables which is when I spotted them. They were coming from every direction, covering every pore of my block. The cheerleaders. Peppy, thin, and vapid. They belted it out for the pleasure of a bunch of dudes. And who would be among those dudes – oh, only Bicep Boy with a pair of his equally, muscley and probably dim buddies. They ogled for hours. They pointed. They whistled. They… laughed? Oh yeah, that was because my friends chose that crucial moment when I needed o remain inconspicuous to show up. I had no choice but to go outside.

The Three Muscleteers knew the story – or else just thought I was hilarious – and laughed so hard one doubled over. He leered just across that pep-filled street, torturing my esteem. It seemed the whole world had come down on my head. Oh… wait… that cranial pain was caused by the light pole I just smacked into.
As I tripped on the purple elephant-shaped rock in the garden on my way to the car door, I decided Allstate has to give me something. It’s more than a social disaster. I’m a walking social Armageddon.