Yep – that would be me on the right…Larry. The least of the stooges. (And not just because of his snazzy hair, either.)
You might be asking…”Why, Michelle, would you be Larry?”
Well let me tell you…I’m usually the one with the most bug bites, bruises, stubbed toes, and cat scratches. If there’s a doorknob to walk into, I’ll find it. One tiny sliver of glass on the floor from a broken dish last week? My toe will seek it out.
Then there’s the shortness thing (I needed a step stool to get into and out of my daughter’s U-Haul a few weeks ago). Being short brings a different host of issues. Chairs are always too high (I’m 45 and I can swing my feet under my seat in almost any restaurant). Shelves are always out of reach. You get the idea.
Now, this post may sound like a cry for sympathy…but I promise that it’s not. No, this is an acknowledgement of my own stupidity, overtiredness, overworkedness, and, yes, just plain clumsiness.
So how does this equate to Larry, you’d like to know? So glad you asked.
Moe was the “brains” of the operation – and kinda cruel about it too. He’s the one who would poke the other guys in the eyes, hit them with hammers, and cuff ’em upside the back of the head. I’m no Moe. I’m too nice to be Moe.
Curly was the cute one with the “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!” He was the one who would duck out of the way when Moe would swing the hammer, letting it hit Larry instead. Don’t get me wrong, he took his lumps, too, but he was quick to get out of the way, agile enough to do the “Curly Shuffle,” and bouncy enough to bounce back from anything Moe threw his way.
Which brings us to Larry. Sweet, loveable, unsuspecting Larry. Larry had a temper, too…but he never acted on it. Larry took it on the chin, in the eye, and upside the back of the head. He wasn’t the brains and he wasn’t the cutie…he was the straight man. Larry’s “catchphrase” (if you can call it that) was “Why I oughtta…” But then he never did. He rolled with the punches and just kept getting up. Larry had compassion. Larry had brains (though Moe never listened to him). Larry was sweet. And yes, Larry was bruised.
I guess when it comes right down to it, it’s not so bad being Larry.
Hey…wanna hold this nail for me while I get the hammer out?
Your bedheaded blogger,
Michelle