I'm so bad at fashion that mannequins have started giving me style tips.

I'm so bad with technology that my laptop has a support group for dealing with me.

I'm so bad at dancing that I make Elaine's 'Seinfeld' moves look smooth.

I'm so bad at budgeting, my bank account laughs at me.

I'm so bad at gardening, even cacti die under my care.

I'm so bad at singing, my neighbors have tried to pay me to stop.

I'm so bad at styling my hair, the birds mistake it for a nest.

I'm so bad at cooking, my microwave refuses to work for me.

I'm so bad at time management, I'm late even when I plan to be early.

I'm so bad at technology, I still have a MySpace account.

I'm so bad at relationships, even my therapist recommends I stay single.

I'm so bad at telling jokes that even my dad jokes don't make me laugh.

I'm so forgetful that I need a GPS to find my own house.

I'm so bad at DIY projects that even IKEA furniture laughs at me.

I'm so bad at saving money that even my piggy bank shakes its head in disapproval.

I'm so bad at making decisions, even my Magic 8-Ball is like, 'I can't help you with that.'

I'm so clumsy that I once tripped over a wireless network.

I'm not just a night owl, I'm a nocturnal disaster waiting to happen.

I'm so forgetful that I once tried to call my own phone to find it.

I'm so bad at dating, I once got stood up by my own reflection.

I'm not just a procrastinator, I'm a professional at postponing the inevitable.