Anybody remember Skippy?

I used to fall down the stairs regularly.  This happened mostly after graduating from college, I should clarify.  This isn't a childhood coordination development thing, it's an adulthood clumsy broad thing.  

At our first apartment in the DC area, I fell down the full flight of stairs on my back, and Kurt took me to the emergency room.  Ouch.  (Go ahead - ask him why he had to leave me there, or how he reacted when I ate pavement in Disneyworld with his family - hah!)  My stair mishaps continued in my early twenties, apparently my formative years for coordination.  I soon earned the nickname Skippy, used among a few of my smart-ass friends.

You may be amused to learn that, although I'm practically 30 years old (October 15, 2009 - start shopping now), my balancing skills are still in the developmental phase.  Yesterday I took a dive on the bus, followed shortly after by some serious trippage in the clothing stores.  (Don't worry, Dad - didn't buy anything.)

Each time I use the restroom at home, I have to climb a winding staircase up to the second level of the apartment.  So of course I'm just waiting to bite the bullet there and do a little back-surfing down the uncarpeted stairs.  Stay tuned.  I'll let you know if I take any Italians down with me.