The one where I trip and fall on my face

while wearing my new Jessica Simpson shoes.

After a great end to the week at swanky wine bar near my house, I pulled into my parking lot, exited the car and began what is now known as the unbearable walk home.

I will only say one thing...it was super dooper dark.

And one more thing...it wasn't my new Jessica Simpson nude platform shoes that changed the course of my weekend and caused me to sprain an ankle. "They're so comfortable," I had been professing to my friends.

Liar.

As I made my way around the dark corner, my foot slid out of my shoe and somehow made it's way 1/2 way off. Gracefully, I caught my balance, slid my foot back into my shoe, yelled a quiet Joey Lawrence style, "Whoa!" and continued to the door, hips swaying from side to side and all. Because who knows who could be watching?

Except that just before my motion sensor light flicked on, (aka: I still was blindly walking through the dark) my careless foot decided to step off of the sidewalk and place itself into the cushiony mulch. Shocked at the change in texture of the ground, my brain urged my foot to change positions, causing my ankle to twist. To stabilize myself, I caught myself with my sturdy other foot, which was surprised by the sudden impact and also twisted itself.

What happens when both ankles are twisted inward and a light has suddenly switched on because of the serious motion going on? Well, you use your hands to balance. I did take ballet for a few years. I know what to do.

But, let's face it, since I'm a ballerina no longer, I instead fell to my knees screaming "Oooooohhhh Noooooooo!"

Cue new Marc Jacobs purse scratching concrete ground.

I debated whether I should just lay there on all fours and yell the LG's name.

Instead I was a Big Girl about it.

I crawled to the door and rang the bell 15 times. I used my other free hand to knock annoyingly on the door.

The LG came running down the steps, lifted me off the ground (with a half-smile, mind you) and gave me a hug.

Big Girl Julia kicked her shoes off (0ne at a time) so hard that they both hit the ceiling.

And after that, the weekend consisted of me limping around in yoga pants, a circulation cutter-offer ACE bandage, and sparkly sneakers.

The LG's advice after all of this?

Maybe I shouldn't wear those shoes for awhile.

My opinion?

Maybe the neighbors should invest in some motion sensor lights.