It's surprising when you find out that someone's made it to adulthood without the ability to even dog paddle their way around, but it's actually more common than you'd think. One out of every five adults can't swim, and nearly half of adult Americans can't swim well enough to save themselves. That's a whole lot of people floundering around if they suddenly find themselves in a Waterworld situation.

One of the more bizarre facts of Natalie Wood's already pretty bizarre drowning death is how, even though she and her husband Robert Wagner owned a yacht and often took it out on open water, she did not know how to swim. While the booze probably hurt her chances of surviving a "fall" into the water, not being able to swim certainly didn't help Wood's aspirations to continue enjoying the luxuries of air.

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"Why are you throwing a donut at me? I'm so confused."

Swimming skills are relatively easy to learn: you float, you kick, you tread water, and at some point you stop screaming. So what's the problem? For many non-swimmers, the big issue isn't ability -- it's conquering the fear of water. And if you think you can just avoid pools, lakes, and water-based reality shows, you better think again. Seventy percent of the Earth is covered in water, and when non-swimmers unexpectedly end up in it, the results can be devastating.

The California DMV no longer requires parallel parking on their road test, which may explain why I see so many cars circling my block searching for the elusive end spot (which they're not going to find often in Santa Monica), hoping to skate by with the totally bogus headfirst pull in. Even worse is watching a driver try to somehow magically subvert the laws of physics through sheer force of faulty repetition. Attempting the same misguided moves over and over again won't get your car any closer to the curb. And no, I'm not making another virgin metaphor here. Feel free to make your own.

I grew up on the East Coast, and at one point drove one of those obnoxious oversized SUVs. While my parking skills were okay before, once you have to handle a beast like that, you quickly become proficient at jockeying any vehicle smaller than a city bus. There's nothing more awkward than sitting in the passenger seat as your date unsuccessfully tries to get his car into a tight spot -- that is, of course, until you have to step in and park it for them.

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Note of etiquette: never say "TA-DAAA" after doing this. Just don't do that.

Parallel parking is more simple geometry and patience than rocket science. Where people screw up is when they panic and rush. You can find step by step instructions all over the Internet, but the main things to remember are: 1) pull up parallel to the car in front of your intended space and line up your back bumpers, 2) make sure you're turning the steering wheel sharply enough, and don't unwind it too early, and 3) don't be nervous. Being unable to parallel park if somebody is watching you is like being afraid of having sex with the lights on -- it's something you'll have to get over, or you'll never be considered truly good at it.

One of the most common mistakes people make when Googling is failing to keep it simple. Save your expository musings for that novel you keep saying you're going to write. Avoid cramming a bunch of irrelevant info into the search box. Google doesn't need a backstory. In addition to limiting your search words, order them from most obscure to least. You should also familiarize yourself with the punctuation, symbols, and wording shortcuts that Google Search recognizes to make each search more effective.

If you really want to become a master searcher, Google offers a free self-paced Power Searching course, and for those already pretty confident in their Google Fu, there's Advanced Power Searching. No matter what you are looking for, the quicker you can gather accurate information, the better off you'll be. Just do us a favor and never, ever refer to yourself as a "power searcher."

While it's often thought to be a universal rite of passage, there are adults who somehow skipped that particular milestone. As a kid, I taught myself on a hand-me-down bike with a coaster break. For those not familiar, that means braking is completely dependent on an intact chain. Since this bike was probably last tuned up during the Eisenhower era, the chain would frequently snap off, creating an "instant fixie" for six-year-old me. Thanks to this, I got very adept at controlled crashing. My go-to moves included: if you're flying downhill, look for a driveway that leads up, turn into it, and let gravity do its job. Barring that, bushes are better than trees or fences for impact stops. If you have the means, I highly suggest wrapping yourself in several inches of bubble wrap. You'll thank me later.

Kids are bit more resilient to crashing, but as an adult, you have much better options for learning available to you. Almost every city offers adult bike riding classes. And if you're too embarrassed to try it in front of a bunch of strangers, then borrow a friend's bike, remove the pedals, and just practice walking and gliding on it. Before you know it, you'll be Pee-Wee-Herman-ing your way around the apocalypse in no time.

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Only dorkier.

Also, you'll never know when you'll be required to drive one. On a trip back east, I happened to find myself in the back seat of a car pulled over for a sobriety check. The driver shouldn't have been behind the wheel, but the cops graciously allowed us to carry on as long as someone else drove us away. Possibly because I was sitting in the back, but more likely because I wasn't a dude, the cops asked my friend sitting in the front passenger's seat (let's call him Automatic Andy) if he could take the wheel. Andy hadn't been drinking, but it took some back and forth with the cops and me unhelpfully yelling "You're totally sober, why don't you drive?" before it finally came to light that Andy didn't know how to drive a stick.

Cue the record scratch. The cops seemed genuinely more disgusted by someone who couldn't drive a stick than by someone driving over the limit. There's a metaphor about America for you. Fortunately, I was sober and did know how, so after performing a battery of field sobriety tests that seemed to be more of a source of entertainment to the officers than anything else, I hopped into to the driver's seat, put the car in first, and we headed off to our next destination, where we spent the rest of the evening mocking Andy. Even worse, I later found out that the macho performance sports car he owned had to be special ordered from the factory in Germany to accommodate his need for an automatic transmission. Don't be an Andy. Just learn to drive a stick. Just do the world a favor and avoid that traffic light on top of the hill until you become proficient.

"Check it out. Someone left a sweet microphone on the console!"