That's gonna leave a mark

I'm a clumsy bitch. Always have been. Years ago, one of my cousins nicknamed me "Tommy Girl" one day after the 574,899th time I marked myself in some bizarre incident. That day it was opening the door to my Grand Cherokee and proceeding to bloody my nose and black both my eyes in the process. I can't tell you how many times I've been wounded by car doors. Fingers slammed in them, legs slammed in them, hands rolled up in windows, hair rolled up in windows, jabbing myself on the top corner (you know the one, the wicked sharp pointy part), smacking myself in the face/head/body with them, breaking a finger hanging a ring on them. You name it. And that's just car doors, all the other assorted injuries due to other inanimate objects would take many more posts. Today my cousin and I had to go to Walmart and get some washer/dryer crap. I jumped out of the pickup and some of his assorted floorboard ornamentation fell out. I leaned down to pick it up and on rising up tried to remove my nose with my glasses by slamming them into the rearview mirror. Yeah, it left a mark.