Once upon a time, when I worked at a retail store, I was a supervisor for men’s suits and dress clothing. Part of my job was to measure and mark the suits for alterations. Now, marking pants for alterations often entailed bending down in front of a man-stranger’s nether regions for extended amounts of time with measuring tapes, rulers, chalk, and bobby pins. (what a combination!)
Come on, you know you can smell the embarrassment already.
One day, while knee deep into measuring for some man-stranger’s new Spring suit. Some big pile of crazy ran in blabbing about how some idiot had forgotten to put a truck into park. And that some nice stranger had stopped the rolling truck after it rolled through FIVE rows of empty parking lot by placing a car jack under it. He almost mentioned that the stranger needed the jack back, so could we please make announcement.
I made the announcement with ten shades of sarcasm in my voice, because surely, the dummy who did that needed to experience this sarcasm as some sort of punishment for their irresponsibility.
Then, I went back and ranted on about it to the man-stranger.
“Oh my goodness, what idiot would NOT put a car in park? Seriously. That is so dangerous and inconsiderate. WHO DOES THAT?”
The man-stranger agreed. He thought was both dangerous and inconsiderate. Mostly, he just wanted to get through all the poking and prodding I was doing with the pins and rulers safely. It probably isn’t all that comfortable to have a stranger that close to your privates with sharp needle like devices.
Suddenly, just as I was finally drawing the chalk lines to mark for the bottom hem length,the 12 inch from the ground mark for you people who know what I speak of, I had an epiphany. Well, more like a relapse.
You see, at the time, my husband and I lived in a house with a driveway that was one car width wide. One of our vehicles was always blocking the other into the space. So his truck had blocked me in that morning.
As a result, I had driven it to work.
And yes, it was the runaway pick-up that had been barreling down the parking lot. The one that was so, “dangerous and inconsiderate.”
You see, I wasn’t familiar with driving it, and it for some reason it would catch just as you were putting it into to park to make you think it was. Additionally, the parking lot was rather flat, so it took a while (about 2 hours) for it to start rolling.
I will forever feel like an idiot.
I’ve been dying to hold a contest, because I love to give stuff away. And since I am sure hoping that I am not alone in doing idiot things (or maybe I am?) I am proposing this contest:
To win a $100 Visa gift card, redeemable anywhere that accepts Visa, you can make an entry about a time you were a complete idiot. Now, I mean in a funny way. I’m not giving away a Visa gift card to hear about the time you didn’t call some girl you liked in 7th grade, and she went out with Tommy Johnson instead of you and you felt like an idiot.
I mean, I didn’t put a truck in park and it almost barreled over a few people, kind of idiot. OR, I sharted in front of my boss, kind of idiot. Or, something else totally funny/embarassing.
In your entry, link back here. Also, leave a link here in the comments section to your entry. If you do not have a blog, just leave the story in the comment section. As an option, you can also place the button below in your entry or sidebar for fun.
You should enter. After all, everyone, except probably your lawn boy and your common bootlegger, excepts Visa. So the prize is good almost everywhere. Additionally, if you do not want the $100, but want to win or enter the contest, you can use the card to donate to the charity of you choice. Or you can use it to buy donuts, shoe strings, razors, expensive shampoo, shoes, or just a single shoe depending on your taste. It’s totally up to you.
Oh, last but not least, the winner of the gift card will be chosen by my husband on April 15th. I’ll let him read through them and pick, because he loves to hear about people being idiots. So you have until April 15th to post your entry, and link back to it here in the comments.
Oh, you are an evil woman. I like that.
witchypoo’s last blog post..Parallel Play
March 10th, 2008 at 11:40 pm
Now this, this is a good contest. Let me think and you’ll know when I’m ready to share.
March 11th, 2008 at 1:41 am
hahaha hmn…i have one. not sure i’m ready to let the world know about it though hehe!
sushi from manila’s last blog post..all that a GIRL ever needs
March 11th, 2008 at 1:55 am
mmm…I have one also, I was pretty young but thinking about it still embarrasses me..I am not sure I could post about it on my blog though!
Oh god I just thought of another one, I guess I have a lot of embarrassing stories!
I like yours though!
Lulu’s last blog post..Top 100 Australian Women`s Blogs…
March 11th, 2008 at 5:36 am
I feel my face getting red just thinking some of the stories I have. I’ll pick a good one to share.
Dingo’s last blog post..Bill Gates Owes Me
March 11th, 2008 at 6:43 am
I love embarrassing stories! This is cool.
Sister Honey Bunch’s last blog post..Let Me Help a Sister Out.
March 11th, 2008 at 7:24 am
Ok, here goes.
I used to live in a house at the end of the street. No one ever came to our end of the road unless you were coming to see us or you were lost. Across the street was woods so no one there either to bother us.
One afternoon I was getting out of the shower getting ready to go somewhere. I had put on my panties and had a towel on my head getting ready to do my makeup.That’s it. It was at that moment my little dog starting dancing around letting me know he needed to go out NOW. So I walk to the front door thinking I’ll just quickly let him out cause no one will see me. I open the door and am looking down to watch the dog go out and look up to see a smiling , 16 year old Mormon boy about to give me his well rehearsed speech. I screamed and he immediately lost the smile and said , ” Oh Sorry !” as I shut the door in his face. I hope God forgives me. Did I mention I had on see through underwear?
March 11th, 2008 at 7:41 am
Oh boy that was a good story, now I have to click into memory (mine) and find a story. I know I have many of them - strange things are always happening to me, for for the love of god, I can’t seem to think of one!
hmmm…..
I guess I have selective memory!
March 11th, 2008 at 8:02 am
This made me laugh!! I’ve got to think of a good embarrassing story of mine and I’ll post the link later.
Good story idea!!!
Jennifer @ The Cubicle’s Backporch’s last blog post..Lipstick Jungle and 10 things you’ll never hear me say
March 11th, 2008 at 8:06 am
In High School we decided to play a powder puff football game to raise money for our senior class. I was choosen to be the quarter back and we were playing flag football. On one of the plays no one was open so I started to run up the field and then two girls were right beside me trying to grab a flag when we heard a big ripping sound. I looked down in disbelief to find that my shorts had been riped. Now not a small hole or anything one whole leg was gone. Oh and yes my small town of 2400 people where probably all in attendence that night. So the guys in my class that were being cheerleaders stood around me while I put on someone’s running pants for the remainder of the game.
March 11th, 2008 at 8:09 am
I’m going to have to think about this one. After being married to Annie for 30+ years I can think of any number of times I have managed to embarrass, me, her, the kids, the next door neighbor and several other people we still don’t know the names of.
lceel’s last blog post..Work, work, work
March 11th, 2008 at 8:38 am
Oooh a project. I’m going to work on this one.
March 11th, 2008 at 9:07 am
Great contest! When I write up my story I’ll let you know.
And, btw, wow…that shit is embarrassing! I bet your husband still teases you about it too!
Lunanik’s last blog post..This is the thanks you get
March 11th, 2008 at 9:52 am
Oh I have plenty of idiot stories.
But not sure they’re worth the prize. LOL
Mamirosa’s last blog post..Guess who’s baaaaaaack?
March 11th, 2008 at 10:00 am
Ohmygoodness!
I’m sure I’ve successfully blocked most of my embarrassing moments. Although that $100 does look tempting.
Sue’s last blog post..Accentuate the Positives, Eliminate the Over-doing-it
March 11th, 2008 at 10:09 am
I was traveling to Colorado by plane with my mother and two small children, 3 years old and 11 monthes. This was in 1993 when the airlines still felt the need to feed you.
Before our meal, I decided to change my daughters diaper. We were in the second to back row, the attendants were busy giving out beverages so I just changed her right in my seat. The attendants station was right next to where we were sitting so I just threw her diaper in what I thought was a trash can. It had a lid on it with a hole in the top like a trash can. A minute later the attendant came back to get more ice and screamed, “Who put a dirty diaper in the ice can?” Well, I was the only person on the plane with a child. They all knew it was me. The attendant made a pass up and down the row saying, “No more beverages the ice has been spoiled with a dirty diaper.” It was a very long flight.
March 11th, 2008 at 10:52 am
Hmm, I’ll have to ask my hubby about the dunbest thing I’ve ever done…you know he’s the one that keeps track of my stupid stuff.
Melissa’s last blog post..WWUD?
March 11th, 2008 at 10:53 am
HILARIOUS!!!
I’ll have to think about something I did. I tend to block those moments from my memory.
amy’s last blog post..Mmm, Mmm, Good?
March 11th, 2008 at 11:47 am
I would love to enter this contest! I wrote this MEME a couple months ago and it’s perfect.
Number 7 is my ultimate embarrassing moment. Enjoy!
http://ladolcevita10.blogspot.com/2007/12/over-due.html
Dolce’s last blog post..Off the Chick-lit bus
March 11th, 2008 at 12:10 pm
Here’s my most embarrassing moment.
http://libelletage.blogspot.com/2008/03/glenda-and-elphaba-do-lunch-sneek-peek.html
Lisa’s last blog post..Glenda and Elphaba Do Lunch (sneek peek into the book I am writing)
March 11th, 2008 at 1:26 pm
I still turn bright red everytime I even think about stepping into a _Mart store.
It was summer, I mean Hot NJ Muggy Summer. The kind of hot muggy day, that you think halter top and shorts. It was a long blowy halter top, and of course I was sans bra. Shut up I was thin then LOL.
Well hubby and I were at the check out counter, the one right by the garden center. All of a sudden there are like 15 bees buzzing around, ok Im not scared of no stinkin bee, so I think very little about it. One bee had it in for me, yep thats right, under the blowy halter top, that sucker got me right smack dap on the you know what. I freaked, was flapping that top darn near over my head. Hubby was laughing so hard he nearly collapsed (big help he was). The cashier just pretended nothing was happening as I bared my souls to the world.
I still cannot go into that particular store, I go 10 miles out of my way to another.
March 11th, 2008 at 1:49 pm
OK. Here goes.
My husband and I go to church just one time each year–Christmas Eve for the candlelight service. If it were up to him, we’d never go, but I love it. Needless to say, we don’t have our own church. I drove by one I liked the look of, so it became our once-a-year church. And it turned out my boss’s boss’s boss (get that?) was married to the church’s minister. The service ended and we were some of the first out the door after sitting in the very back of the church. The minister and his wife (the big boss) were waiting at the bottom of a small flight of stairs to greet the worshippers as they left.
We walked towards them and the stairs and I silently prayed that I would not trip and fall in front of the big boss. Over and over I repeated my silent prayer. I even grabbed hold of my husband’s arm for the extra support.
Maybe it’s because we were once-a-year people, but noone heard my prayers and part-way down the stairs, I stumbled and fell forward landing in a messy heap at the feet of the minister and the big boss.
This alone is bad enough. But my instinctual reaction upon falling is to open my mouth and swear like the sailor I must have been in a former life. And not just any swear words. Oh no. The really bad ones to say in a church. GD it came out of my mouth at least a couple times. And loud too.
The minister, good guy that he is, was busy trying to help me and asking if I was okay. My husband was trying to stifle (somewhat unsuccessfully) barks of laughter. The big boss was looking at me wiht a tiny hint of recognition. And me? I was red-faced, panting a little, and mumbling sh*t over and over again.
The minister and the big boss were very gracious about the whole thing, but it was obvious they were mortified. My husband and I beat it out of there. He laughed uncontrollably all the way home, while I alternated between nervous giggles and hot tears of embarrassment.
I didn’t see the big boss too frequently (thank God) but every time I did, I knew she was remembering the incident. And that was the most humilating part for me. Seeing her in professional situations and knowing she was thinking of me falling down the stairs and swearing inappropriately in front of her minister husband in his church on Christmas Eve!
Melissa’s last blog post..Cheeks
March 11th, 2008 at 2:20 pm
My embarrasing stories can be found here: http://whatsthatmystery.blogspot.com/2008/01/spelling-bee.html
and here: http://whatsthatmystery.blogspot.com/2008/02/do-you-want-milk-or-juice.html
(The two stories are related.)
RubiaLala’s last blog post..Bad Hair
March 11th, 2008 at 2:31 pm
I never have a bad day when I read your blog! Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Bekki’s last blog post..What to do when a Friend is Ill!
March 11th, 2008 at 3:12 pm
I’ll have to ponder this one… there are so many to choose from.
Tara R.’s last blog post..I feel like Steve Martin
March 11th, 2008 at 4:08 pm
well ..i’ll give this a go.
good idea for a contest, btw.
my brother played hockey every winter up until he was finished high school, and like a good family ..we attended every game.
this particular one ..i was probably about 11 or 12, so that puts my brother ..2 years older than me. i was right at that awkward ..ugly duckling, shy stage and my brother had all these cute friends that i’d spend my days drooling over.
his one friend, matt ..was the object of my affection at the time, and luckily enough ..he was on the team that was playin against my brothers. my parents knew matt’s parents ..so we sat behind them, and chatted.
now it sounds like things are going fine and dandy ..until all of a sudden, i let out this big sneeze. ok fine ..things are cool, until i notice this HUGE green, slimy booger/idontknowhatelse ..on my lovely crush’s mothers back. yeah.
of course, i start bawling and my parents kindly inform her that i’ve just unleashed this beast all over her jacket.
thankfully ..we haven’t seen matt or his mother in years, but i think if i did see him ..i’d still turn 35 shades of crimson.
even if i don’t win, hopefully some people will get a laugh at my expense.
March 11th, 2008 at 7:22 pm
I have lots of stupid moments, but here is one that falls towards the top of the stupid scale.
Let me preface this with my mother giving me a jar of prickly pear jam. That’s how it all started and I’m blaming her
Well, living in San Diego, we have lots of people that have cactus or succulents in their front yards. My husband and I were on our daily route for the dog walk, and everyday, I noticed this huge prickly pear cactus. One day, one of the prickly pears had fallen off into the sidewalk and that is when the stupid bell started going off in my head. Prickly pears, if you don’t know, kind of look like apples in color and size. So here is this prickly pear, just staring at me from the sidewalk. After eating that jam from my mom, I thought, heck, I should try the real thing.
I grabbed the prickly pear and stuck it in my mouth and bit down. Now my dear sweet husband of course didn’t stop me b/c either he figured my idiot alarm would have gone off at such a crazy idea or maybe, he was just letting me learn on my own.
Immediately, I spit it out and started hacking, sticking my tongue out and rubbing it on my hand. That’s b/c prickly pears don’t have visible thorns…nope, just sharp microscopic hair like thorns. They come off as soon as you touch it. So not only did I have them on my tongue, but in my throat, on my face, and all over my hands. And the more I tried to rub them off, the more they spread.
I ran home hacking and coughing all the way and straight into the bathroom. I was convinced anything that could feel so horrible, I should be able to see. I stood in front of the mirror trying to find them and pick them out with tweezers. No such luck. I started doing internet searches on how to handle eating a prickly pear….yeah, no one has been so stupid to do that without peeling one first.
Needless to say, it took about 24 hours for that feeling to go away. I guess they just worked through my system, but it was a horrible wait. The worst thing, I had no one to blame, b/c face it, when I do something really dumb, I want to blame it on someone else.
Now there was the time I burned myself on the back with a hot frying pan…but that’s for another time.
Please enjoy my stupidity…I offer it up freely on a daily basis.
March 11th, 2008 at 7:53 pm
This is funny…
I could not even begin to tell you my embarrassing stories. There are so many of them! My favorite is definitely asking the amish for their drivers licsence & phone number though… *shrug*
Jessica’s last blog post..Explanation, please?
March 11th, 2008 at 8:11 pm
Sounds like a fun contest. I can’t wait to read the entries. I’ve got lots of dumb in my background. I might have to search deep for the truly idiotic.
janethesane’s last blog post..Wow, how boring
March 11th, 2008 at 9:36 pm
I believe I am embarrassingly unembarrassed!
Therefore, I shall just read and laugh!
Beth from Around the Funny Farm’s last blog post..A Poet - Me.. NO!
March 11th, 2008 at 9:48 pm
Lol at some of these stories! The prickly pear, standing naked in front of a mormon boy!? Lmao!! I don’t know if I have any this good, I’ll have to dig deep in my brain!
Meagan’s last blog post..So Tank has a “man cave”!
March 11th, 2008 at 9:54 pm
I can’t resist a contest! Your story is so funny, I’m laughing really hard over here.
I posted about mine embarrasing moment here: http://pbjinabowl.blogspot.com/2008/01/under-mean-under.html
March 11th, 2008 at 11:15 pm
Oh my gosh. I have an entire “Duh” category on my blog with several choice stories to choose from. LOL I think this one is the best. And fairly recent.
A brief synopsis: Early morning incoming phone call on my new iPhone. Me? Groggy, confused and totally out of it…
http://theflirtyguide.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-love-my-iphone-but.html
The Flirty Girl’s last blog post..Promises and Pearls was a Great Showcase
March 12th, 2008 at 2:18 am
Thanks for making me remember way too many ugly incidents. I’ve got to figure out a way to hide my story deep, deep within my blog so that my only two readers won’t find it…
Caution’s last blog post..Got a Plant? I Can Kill It!
March 12th, 2008 at 8:29 am
I had worked like a dog for weeks on a fundraiser for our recreational soccer program. I had gotten sponsors to donate prizes and our State Senator was there to hand out the Grand Prize during halftime of the High School soccer game that was the highlight of that long day’s festivities. I had been announcing the prize winners over the PA system during the course of the game. The evening was hot, just as the day had been, and I was getting thirsty. And it was time to announce the Grand Prize Winner, with the Senator standing right next to me. Annie handed me a Pepsi to slake my thirst. I quickly downed some. Just as I put the microphone to my lips to announce the winning ticket number, this tremendous belch just blew by all the stop signs and hit the fresh air like a train. And, of course, the PA guy had just turned up the volume so I could be heard over the noise of the 1500 or so people in attendance. I was immediately mortified. But I gotta tell ya’, that moment of stunned silence, when 1500 people just SHUT UP was absolutely priceless.
lceel’s last blog post..This Day, This Wordless Day
March 12th, 2008 at 11:33 am
I have two.
The first. I was young….very young…..5-6ish. It was back in the day that it was not considered child abuse to leave your kids in the car. My parents ran into the grocery store to get some stuff and left my sister and I in the car with strict instructions to not touch anything. Whatever. I hopped into the front seat and pretended to drive the freakishly large, 70’s brown, parked on a slight slope, car I was forbidden to touch. Who knew it would shift into drive so easily!? That slight slope turned into a HUGE slope and we rocketed off at 5 mph straight into the automatic glass doors of the grocery store. $10000 in damages and I still feel like an idiot for something I did at the age of six.
Second…..(hides head in shame)
Age 14,15, there abouts. My parents took us to see the house we were going to move into, and we were waiting around outside to get the key to go in. I was milling about the yard and I found all of these cocoons. Cool, I could put them into jars and keep them until the beautiful butterflies or moths sprang forth! So, I began gathering up all of these cocoons and putting them into a pile. I called my dad and sister over to see what I had found…..and they started laughing at me. I had picked up and made a huge pile of old, dried out dog poop. To this day, I am warned not to pick up any cocoons on the lawn.
March 12th, 2008 at 12:44 pm
this is a great contest. i’ll have to think about something embarrassing. lol. your story was great :).
jess’s last blog post..Some People Should Just Stick to Reality T.V.
March 12th, 2008 at 1:55 pm
Let me think on it (baby, baby) let me think on it.
This is a great idea!
Jennifer’s last blog post..Superhero Baby Spotted Wearing Cape, No Pants
March 12th, 2008 at 2:40 pm
Oh man…these are great. Good luck picking.
http://still-cookin.blogspot.com/2008/03/fessing-up-its-contest-people.html
Jane’s last blog post..‘fessing up (it’s a contest, people)
March 12th, 2008 at 3:03 pm
Mine is here. http://designerfrog.blogspot.com/2008/03/embarrass-yourself-for-100.html
Rene’s last blog post..Embarrass Yourself For $100
March 12th, 2008 at 5:10 pm
OMG, what a great idea! I’ll have to ponder this one…
Karen MEG (Pomtini)’s last blog post..Wordless Wednesday
March 12th, 2008 at 7:06 pm
Hmmm. This sounds familiar. This (http://thepioneerwoman.com/2008/02/share_with_meand_win_a_wii.html) was recently posted by a fellow nominee for the “Best writing of a weblog” category for the Bloggies. I hope just it’s a coincidence.
March 12th, 2008 at 8:27 pm
I have no problem with you hosting a contest similar to someone else’s. Most of us have made fools of ourselves so often, that there’s ample material to share. BTW, congrats on a well-deserved nomination!
Caution’s last blog post..When a Good Teacher Retires
March 13th, 2008 at 9:42 am
(you asked for it!)
The HoneyMOONER!
“We wanted to thank you for coming and sharing in our special day,” I muttered up on the stage, “But, we have to go now. We’ve got a flight to catch very early this morning.”
Everyone laughed and hissed. I even heard some ’sures’ and ‘yeah rights’. We really did, though. We had an early flight to catch to New Orleans. We’d planned to have half of our Honeymoon in the French Quarter and the other half out at Michael’s parents’ house. We knew we’d probably not see them for a while, so we decided to take the opportunity. Plus, we’d be able to take a swamp tour and do other stuff like that.
We got off the stage and proceeded to the rented Lincoln Townecar. My father said he’d take us home to our apartment. We still had to open envelopes, count our monetary gifts, and decide how much we were going to take with us. For a moment we were going to make love on top of all the cash like Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson did in “Indecent Proposal”, but we were too tired to even consummate our marriage. It wasn’t like we hadn’t pre-consummated it, though. Many times over, daily, nightly, in tents, in gazebos, at my work, in a computer lab, in my parents pool….many times, many places! We were good until New Orleans.
In Bondage Coffee Shop Honeymooners Crazy Mike Honeymooners
In New Orleans, on our Honeymoon!
The time we spent in the Quarter was awesome. We drank a lot, ate a lot, had a lot of consummations-of-marriage, and just enjoyed our days there. There was only so much to do, so we were happy to get in the rental car and head over Lake Pontchartrain to Michael’s parent’s house.
******
One morning, towards the end of our stay, we decided that we would go to this little place called “Raggs” for the best po’boys around. I was so excited as I’d heard so much about this place. We’d also planned to take our swamp tour that day. We’s eat lunch first and then go to the tour. Michael, always being prompt, made sure we had enough time to get to the sandwich shop, eat, and then drive out to the swamp tour.
Lunch as I can recall was fantastic! The shrimp were fried perfectly, the french bread was toasted to perfection and the mix of hot sauce and mayonnaise was delectable. Po’boys are one of my favorite foods because of this experience, but I digress. After eating, we set off.
Unfortunately, on the way, we encountered an accident. It was right in front of us and Michael quickly ran up to see that everyone was okay. Then we had to hang around for the police report since we were witnesses. We were sure that our swamp tour would leave without us. Finally we were able to set off again. We made it with only a minute to spare.
th_mishi_boat.jpg
Me, on the swamp tour boat!
The swamp tour was a lot of fun. The guide was informative and funny. We even got to see some swamp gators. It was a perfect ending to our honeymoon. We were out, in nature, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of the wetland. After we were done we talked with the guide and other tourists some more, and then we were on our way again.
On the long ride home is when it happened; something that I shouldn’t even be speaking or typing about, really. It’s probably the single mostunpropitious event in the ‘history of me’. It’s one thing that, if I die first, Michael will recall in my eulogy.
There was a gurgle. I began to sweat. My bowels were clenching. I could feel the proverbial turtle peaking out of the shell. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, “Michael! You. Have. To. Stop. Somewhere!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I have to poop,” I moaned.
“Seriously, right now? Why didn’t you go at the tour place?” he questioned.
“I didn’t have to,” I retorted.
“Come on, Mishelle! There’s no place to stop. If you haven’t noticed, we’re in a fucking swamp!” he chuckled.
I’ll never forget the look on his face. It made me mad. I had to evacuate my bowels and all he could do was look at me with a comical grin? I was about to shit my pants and all he could do was question why I didn’t do it at the tour place? This was grounds for divorce, wasn’t it?
“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!” I screamed.
He pulled over with diligence. I scanned the backseat, spotted and picked up a random towel, opened the door, and in one huge leap I was down in the swamp ditch with my jean shorts around my ankles, relieving myself. I didn’t care that I could be attacked by a gator. I didn’t care that there could be any poisonous plants. I didn’t care that a snake might bite me. I just didn’t care about anything, other than pooping, at that very moment. I dumped, I wiped, and I left the nasty towel. I wiped my brow and my upper lip, both of which were sweat drenched. When I looked at Michael, once I got back into the car, I saw this look of sheer, utter amusement on his face.
“Shut! Up! And, I swear Michael, if you tell ANYONE about this, I will divorce you,” I quipped confindently.
We drove back to the house in silence. He’d try to joke about it and I stopped him with a direct, “Shut the fuck up!”
I did manage to remind him (rather threaten) to not recant the story. I was serious. I didn’t want anyone hearing this humiliating tale. Doing what I did, in front of my new husband, was bad enough. If anyone knew I’d surely be forced into living the rest of my days as a hermit.
We got into the house and heard rustling in his parents’ bedroom. His mom was home from work early. She had a massive headache but still had a pile of work, so she’d taken the rest of the afternoon to work from home, from bed. We sat with her, in her room, and told her about the eventful day we’d had. I looked at Michael a few times with a stern look, reminding him of my threat, and I was sure that he was scared straight.
“Well, Mom, we’re gonna go get changed and lie down for a few,” Michael stated.
We kissed her on the cheek and proceeded to leave the room.
“Oh, but Mom, really quick,” he said. “Guess what Mishelle did today?” he asked. And before she could even reply he said, in what sounded like slow motion to me, “Sssshhhhhheeeeee shhhhhiiiiitttt iiiiiinnnnnn aaaaaaa ddddiiiiitttttcccccchhhhhh!”
Oh My God. He did it. He told her. How could he? I quickly punched his arm and felt my face grow red.
My mother-in-law giggled a little and said in her southern drawl, “That’s awright, gurl. I shit in a ditch, too, when I was on my honeymoon with Mr. Mike.”
Lucky for my new husband that she made me feel better by telling me her story. When we got to our room I warned him that telling Mom was enough. No more souls would know this sordid saga.
******
Our honeymoon was over and my parents were picking us up from the airport. We had waited a while for them to get us because our flight came in just as a Bill’s game had let out, and there was crazy traffic on the interstate. Finally, they got there and we loaded our bags into their trunk. We piled into the back seat.
“How was it?” my father asked.
Michael quickly said, “It was so much fun! And, guess what? Mishelle shit in a ditch!”
Laughter filled the car. Except for me. I sat in disbelief.
“It’s ok, Mishi,” my mom said, “I shit in a ditch in Germany after I married your father!”
A peace filled me. I smiled. I’d made family history, and some day my daughter and daughters-in-law will make family history, too. Lucky for Michael that both our mothers shared this with me, or I’d probably be telling you a story about me and some guy named Tim, Jim, Bob or John.
Shit happens!
Secret Agent Mama’s last blog post..Project 365 (203/365)
March 13th, 2008 at 9:48 pm
Oh, and I just posted it on my blog, too..
Secret Agent Mama’s last blog post..Embarrass Yourself for $100
March 13th, 2008 at 9:57 pm
Dingo Girl and I had just moved into a 5th floor walk-up and my legs hadn’t adjusted to the compulsory workout. Around mid-afternoon on the second day we were there, Dingo Girl needed to go for a walk. I decided to multi-task and take down empty boxes and a bag of trash. It was awkward getting down the stairs with the boxes under one arm and the trash bag in the other with Dingo Girl’s leash in my teeth. We got to the street and had to go just around the corner to get rid of my garbage. People waved and smiled as we walked by. I figured we probably made an amusing convoy and was happy to see that people in my new neighborhood were friendly and had a sense of humor. Dingo Girl, for once, did not try to dart ahead. I could hear the click-clack of her nails on the sidewalk and it sounded as if she was happily prancing behind me. I was so proud of my girl. We’d been working on “heel” but Dingo Girl was more like, “hell no” so this obedient stroll down the sidewalk was a major improvement. We made it to the trash bin which was on a busy side street and I dumped my things on top of the heap. Taking the leash out of my mouth, I turned around to praise Dingo Girl profusely for her good behavior. I just about died. Apparently, Dingo Girl decided to “help” me take things downstairs and grabbed something from the dirty clothes pile on the way out. My bright turquoise blue thong underwear. No wonder people were smiling and waving – oh no! They weren’t waving! They had been pointing! I made a hasty grab for my unmentionables which instantly turned into her favorite games, keep away and tug of war. We continued to make a spectacle on the street with me trying to be as discreet as possible…”drop it, drop it”…yes, one more command we needed to work on. I managed to get my hands on the delicate fabric but as soon as I had a firm grip on it, the waistband broke knocking me a bit off balance, making me drop the leash. This was Dingo Girl’s cue for mayhem. She never moved more than four feet from me but she darted about waving her trophy like a hummingbird on crack. It was at this time that a police officer who was walking to his patrol car parked near the trash bins walked up behind me and laughingly asked if I needed help. Before I could say no and that I had it all under control (wasn’t it obvious?), Dingo Girl walked up to the police officer and promptly dropped the shredded thong at his feet.
I wondered if it was too late to break the lease and move somewhere far, far away.
Dingo’s last blog post..Me and My Peeps
March 14th, 2008 at 4:52 pm
I have never done a single embarrassing thing in my life. Not one.
I’ll think and post soon, great contest Amanda!!
Huckdoll’s last blog post..“If you treat a sick child like an adult and a sick adult like a child, everything usually works out pretty well”
March 15th, 2008 at 12:25 am
When I was in my 20’s, I did a much better job with manicures and pedicures than I do now. One morning I woke up late and angry with the world in general. Instead of simply leaving for work, I decided that all the effort I’d made with my nails just wasn’t worth it. So out came the clippers and emery board. Clip, clip, file, file. Toes and nails newly shorn, I finally left for work.
I spent the entire morning observing student teachers. That meant I went to several classrooms, was introduced to each class of kids, and then huddled two or three inches from the classroom teacher and traded whispered comments while the student teacher taught. At the end of each classroom visit, I then conferenced one-to-one with the student teacher.
That went on for about three hours before I finally got back to my office and dashed into the bathroom. I glanced at the mirror and wilted with disbelief and shame. There, prominently displayed right in the middle of my bangs, was an enormous toe nail clipping lodged right where it had most likely been since my early morning pedicure rampage.
My career has never been the same!
Caution’s last blog post..The Postal System: My New BFF
March 16th, 2008 at 3:04 pm
I hope this isn’t cheating, but I wrote two! I just couldn’t decide which was worse:
http://sarahmakesyoustronger.blogspot.com/2008/03/stop-it-youre-making-me-blush.html
March 16th, 2008 at 4:59 pm
ooooh, funfunfun to join in and to read
Im off to ponder & living a life of the better question is do you have a NONEMBARRASSING story.
lately –with a toddler– I seem to roll that way,
MizFit
MizFit’s last blog post..Monday Facetime.
March 17th, 2008 at 4:46 am
Awww damn! Just when I was getting the courage, I forgot the deadline. Yep, I suck. I can’t wait to read the winning story, though!
Nissa’s last blog post..Yep, another party!
March 17th, 2008 at 4:07 pm
Oh - I’d have to give this one some though - there are SO many idiot moments in my life!!
Melody’s last blog post..Wordless Wednesday
March 19th, 2008 at 8:35 am
I have so many embarassing stories but here’s one of my much bigger ones…
http://lifesabitchhitherhard.blogspot.com/
“Salute to the U-Boat Commander”
Robyn’s last blog post..Salute to the U-Boat Commander
March 19th, 2008 at 1:29 pm
Oooo this is tooo good not to share…
THE END OF THE MOCHAJAVA
When I was in my early 20s, I worked for a ski resort in the rockies. Being from the mid-west and leading a rather sheltered life, I found that there were many things to learn about the world and its inhabitants.
I worked at the top of a mountain selling hats, goggles, mittens, and various other items to warm skiers. It was a small shop, near the doors to the chalet, and because of it’s proximity I was forever being asked if people could store their skis in my shop so they wouldn’t get stolen. As if THEIR pair of skis were more expensive or nicer than anyone else’s. It was annoying. I’d been told by my boss NOT to allow people to do it…
There was a counter for a ski school directly across a small corridor from my shop. The ski instructors there were all very pleasant to me, I guess they understood that skiing tourists could be complete jerks and that I was privy to meeting with these jerks more often than they had to. The head instructor used to bring me a mochajava (of his own prideful creation by mixing hot cocoa powder with coffee) every morning. I should’ve realized then, that there was something important about the person this particular ski instructor introduced to me at my counter.
It was a busy day, so I wasn’t paying much attention to people than just to find the stuff they wanted and get them out. I was a little annoyed that the introduced man, whom I could only see from the neck up (as he was standing directly in front of the register) started to make requests. One of which was “Can I store my skis here in your shop?” Well… I’d had it. How DARE he ask me that question! Couldn’t he SEE how busy I was?! And NOW I’M SUPPOSED TO WATCH OVER HIS PRICELESS SKIS?! THE NERVE! I realized that this was a customer, of some unknown importance, so I pulled myself together and said “I’m sorry sir, I can’t store your skis here, my shop is too small.”
He asked again, “Please, may I store my skis here?”
I said, “Sir I’m sorry, but as you see this shop is very busy. I just simply can’t watch over your skis, and I’m afraid they’ll get stolen.” (This line usually worked.)
He didn’t say thanks anyway and leave, he just stayed standing there with his head bobbing above the register. A crowd was forming behind him of people wanting to buy mittens, or hats, or whatever. I’d worked so hard to make sure that a line didn’t form and to keep up the pace that day and here was this idiot who wasn’t there to buy but to ask for favors! I’d HAD IT!
“Sir,” I said, “I’ve told you, I can’t store your skis for you here, and I am busy, now please will you move along so I can wait on these customers?!”
He sighed a long heavy sigh (which annoyed me further) and turned around and started to walk away. I was proud of myself that I was able to get rid of this bobbing head finally and get on with my work, until something orange caught my eye as I was turning around to grab a glove warmer. I turned back. I couldn’t BELIEVE what I saw. The man was wearing a bright orange vest over his ski jacket that read BLIND SKIER.
The ski instructor never brought me another mochajava again.
March 20th, 2008 at 4:04 am
okay I posted it- but not my normal blog. I have a grown up one now..
http://darlinnikki.wordpress.com/2008/03/20/most-embarrassing-moment/
March 20th, 2008 at 11:37 am
shamelesslysassy.com » Eating Sunshing and Pooping Rainbows says:
[...] Also, if you came here for a laugh but were let down by this strange combination of melancholy and rage, you should go check out all of the embarassing stories submitted to my contest so far. They are all pee-your-pants funny. Click here for laughs. [...]
March 21st, 2008 at 4:50 pm
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, I worked for a lawyer. It was a wonderful job, I worked with wonderful people, my clients were charming….well most of them. There was one, because there is always ONE; that was a horrid wretched bitch. She called incessantly, needed this info, needed this notarized, needed her ass wiped, RIGHT THAT MINUTE……you get the picture.
When I needed a signature, or info…she was nowhere to be found. I would call this number, that number, even Satans’ number, (cause I’m pretty sure she was tight with him.)
So one day, whilecalling for the 15th time…just before I was going to hand up, a co-worker asked who I was calling, I replied, “That stupid bitch, Heather.” (Yes, we share a name.) I then hung up the phone.
Two days later my office phone rang, I picked it up………”This is that stupid bitch, Heather. What did you need?”
Doh.
Way to be professional…..
March 21st, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Maybe I shoud have reread before I pushed submitt…..sorry for the numerous typos!
March 21st, 2008 at 9:11 pm
On Friday nights a group of friends and I would get together for dinner and afterwards head downtown to go bar hopping. Earlier, one specific day, I went shopping and found the perfect outfit, white pants and a cute pink shirt. I was excited to go out this particular evening because of my new ensemble; I was the most beautiful person in the world. I met my friend Jason at his place and we drove to the restaurant together. This was just the beginning of the most embarrassing story ever told.
We usually went out for sushi on Friday evenings, but this Friday we all decided to change it up. Someone suggested Mexican. So the six of us, in two separate cars, drove towards the hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant; that just so happened to have the best food in the state. Starting off with a double margarita seemed like the right thing to do. I ordered the chicken with mole sauce, which was described as a mild chocolate sauce with spices; sounded tasty. Two doubles in, I was feeling good. We all enjoyed our food and a few more drinks, listened to the grupo de música and shared storied about the past week. Eventually, dinner was over and we headed downtown.
As we were walking into the club, I felt my stomach start to act up. At this point I was full and quite intoxicated. I made my way towards the bathroom, in the stall I sat on the toilet and waited; nothing. My belly was going crazy at this point and I was too embarrassed to tell my friends (who happened to be all guys) what was going on, so I waited. Finally, I let out a huge fart! I felt so much better. I wiped, pulled up my pants, and washed my hands. Then I did what any other person would do, went to the bar and got a drink.
As the night went on, my level of intoxication increased and my stomach was feeling a little better. I was just experiencing some gas, I would walk around and let it out, the music was loud enough so no one could hear me. Sometimes it was little puffs and other times it was like my ass was backfiring. Needless to say, I found a way to enjoy my time.
Well as the night moves on, I became a dancing queen and felt like my aptitude was not good enough for the dance floor; so I decide to make use of the bar counter. Just before I heisted my drunken ass on the bar, I let out the mother load; it must have lasted a good five seconds. A bit surprised of my body, I shook it off and went back to my mission. I found myself on the bar dancing and shaking my rear towards the crowd. People were glaring at me with looks of disgust and anger. Completely shit faced, I look down yelling “haters, you’re all haters!” and went back to doing my thing.
As all good things must come to an end, this one came fast. The party was over. Time go home, pass out, and wake up to the awesome hangover that was destine to be in my future. Jason drove me to my apartment, where I stumbled in, threw off my new white pants and pink shirt, and slept till noon. I woke to the sun hitting my face; I turned on my side and stared into space. Laying there all I could think of was the night before, how I had so much gas, and doing “drive-bys” on people, I just laughed about it. Looking on my floor I noticed something on my new white pants. Throwing the covers off, I jumped out of bed. I held the new edition to my wardrobe up and saw the most horrific sight I have ever seen in my 24 years of life; I had shit stains on the outside of my pants.
March 24th, 2008 at 10:38 pm
I posted a link to this earlier but after reading a lot of the comments it seems maybe I should have posted the whole story here? Not sure, so just in case here’s my idiot story:
Salute to the U-Boat Commander
Shamelessly Sassy is holding a contest for the most embarassing story so I thought I’d enter one of my bigger embarassing stories (there are oh-so-many..)
Let me preface this story by letting everyone know that I absolutely HATE driving. Especially shitty bumpy roads that give me an added headache pang right before getting home.
So last August the greater Chicagoland area suffered some major storms. I mean major. So I’m driving home from work on a friday looking forward to going to the comedy club later (which requires an hour drive from my house, after driving 45 min home from work) except oh wait, that 45 minute drive turned into 2 hours because of all the big puddles in the roads causing major road closings and traffic jams. Yay.
I finally figure out how to drive me and my car to the back roads by my house and I’m happily driving along traffic free when I come to another “Road Closed” sign. I’m looking at the road and the water on the road thinking “pffft. Why is this road closed? It’s a little 3 inch puddle.” And I decide I wanted to be home. I wanted to be home 2 hours ago. I’m not driving all the way around the rather large farm block to avoid this little puddle. So I go around the “Road closed” sign.
I’m on the phone with my grandma wishing her a happy birthday and also fording the puddle when my car stops running. It just stops running. And water starts seeping into my car through the doors. I look out the window and the 3 inches I “pffft”ed at? THREE FEET. I start screaming “Oh my god! Water! In my brand new car! (yes, brand new. 4 months brand new.)” and so my poor grandma starts freaking out saying “Get out of the car! Get out! Get out!” so being the idiot I am I opened the door instead of climbing out the window to avoid the rush of water into my car ruining anything electronic in my center console.
As I’m getting out of the car I drop my brand new sidekick in the water. (see a pattern here? Anything brand new…ruined.) I plunge my arm into the murky mudwater to find it and by some miracle got it and decided to try to call my mother. It rings, she answers, I scream “I sunk my car I sunk my car!” in the phone but she doesn’t hear because the mic is soaked. My grandmother had already called her and since she can’t hear me, figures I’m drowning.
Two guys in trucks show up behind me, apparently also considering fording the “3 inches of water” and see me, 3 feet deep in muddy water and decide their trucks will stay put but thank god they decided they were jumpin in to help me. My mom shows up in her freakin bathing suit (a prepared woman she is) and watches as we push my poor car to dry land. I thanked them profusely before they headed back to their trucks and decided to take the detour. As I’m standing soaking wet next to my car calling a tow truck (which didn’t show up until 8 hrs later) I shit you not, 7 trucks (and or jeeps) successfully forded the river that consumed my poor Elantra.
Now, while this story was only slightly embarassing but greatly stressful at the time, the embarassing parts came when I had to explain to every one of my friends, the car dealer, the insurance guy, the gap insurance people, and my family that after driving 2 hours around other “puddles” because of this storm, I was one “puddle” away from home when I decided to completely ignore a “road closed” sign and sink my brand new car. Which could have forded the river if it was still my old jeep. Also, my name was U-Boat Commander for a good month after that and friends posted pictures of submarines on my myspace.
The insurance ended up totalling the car and I got another brand new Elantra (an upgrade actually) and I shit you not, one month after getting it, a semi backed into the front end of it.
The embarassing part of that part of the story? Calling up my car dealer (who was sooooo hot) and saying “Hi Chris, it’s Robyn. Again. Apparently I can’t get enough of you. A semi backed into the Elantra. Yes. That’s right. A freakin semi. See you this afternoon.”
Although I guess something good always comes out of these stories. The dealer I had a crush on since the sale of my first Elantra did end up asking me out
These days I keep my refurbished front end away from water and semi’s at all costs.
Because come hell or high water this is my last Elantra.
Robyn’s last blog post..Bitch!
March 27th, 2008 at 10:59 am
hi! here’s mine. don’t know how to link it to your blog so imma leave the link here instead.
http://stoicsushi.blogspot.com/2008/03/sunday-confessions-i-was-idiot-in.html
sushi from manila’s last blog post..sunday confessions : i was an idiot in gradeschool
March 30th, 2008 at 10:00 am
LOLOL! I thought of something good, here is the link!
http://www.meplusthree.us/?p=271
Meagan’s last blog post..Embarrass yourself!
April 1st, 2008 at 12:47 am
http://www.gishers.org/?p=425
Jessica’s last blog post..Okay…
April 1st, 2008 at 11:26 am
I’m not actually gonna enter as I have already posted these… but if you enjoy embarrassment, take your pick ;0)
http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2008/02/sperm-runner.html
http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2008/03/brace-yourself.html
http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2008/03/laid-bare.html
http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2008/02/part-time-transvestite.html
http://xbox4nappyrash.blogspot.com/2008/02/odd-shoes.html
Xbox4NappyRash’s last blog post..Walking the walk
April 1st, 2008 at 2:52 pm
I can’t think of anything terribly embarrassing, but thanks for the giggle! LOL.
Janne’s last blog post..Wordless Wednesday - Don’t Worry; Be Happy
April 2nd, 2008 at 7:01 pm
Hi,
I already posted one, but I thought that you would find this amusing. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before.
When I was a new attorney I was lucky to be chosen to work on a very interesting arbitration. As a junior attorney I did all the grunt work. Eager to impress, I made sure that I was always prepared for any request — extra legal pads, extra pens, post it notes, take-out menus (ah, the joys of being an overpaid gopher). I sat at one of the chairs at the back of the room while the big guns sat at the huge conference room table and the arbitration panel sat at the head of the table. During the last week of arbitration, my efforts were rewarded when one of the attorneys acknowledged that not only did I keep them organized but that I also had something to contribute to the discussion on our breaks. She let me sit with them at the head table on the last day of arbitration. During the questioning of the witness her pen ran out of ink. I left my supplies by my chair against the wall and only had my purse with me but being ever so prepared, I had put some in the purse earlier that day. I rooted around in the purse, trying to be as quiet as possible while also trying to pay attention to the witness. My hands finally closed on a pen and and I handed it to her in triumph. She took it without looking and began to write but it wouldn’t write. The witness and the panel started cracking up. We were both mortified — I had handed her a tampon.
Dingo’s last blog post..Ow! Ow! Ow!
April 4th, 2008 at 11:40 pm
A few years ago I met Renee. She and I taught together and, despite the age difference (I a “bit older”) hit it off as fast friends. The following year, she became engaged and asked if I would be a bridesmaid. I, of course, accepted.
A few months later, her fiance’s aunt was hosting a couples’ shower for them in her well-to-do neighborhood. We got directions, memorzied them, threw the gift (Bruce made them a BIG, beautiful, rustic, western trunk) in the back of our truck, and were on our way. We found the neighborhood and began looking for her fiance’s aunt’s home. Finally, we saw a house with my friend, Renee’s, grey Dodge Durango in the driveway, about twenty cars parked all about, balloons on the mailbox, and a sign that read “BRIDE/GROOM SHOWER”. Whew…we’d found it.
Bruce got the big, wrapped box and we headed to the back of this house (there were signs stating to go around back of the house for the shower). Although we didn’t recognize anyone (we really didn’t know too many of Renee and Paul’s friends), we were invited to sign the guest book (which we did), have some drinks (great frozen margaritas!), and have a bite to eat.
As we stood there in the back yard, feeling a little silly not knowing anyone, we sipped our beverages and ate our finger food. (We were the only ones, or so it appeared, to have brought a gift…That brought on some uninvited attention.)
About twenty minutes into our arriving, people began coming up to us and introducing themselves. (We must have looked a little silly, as we appeared to be the only couple there who wasn’t acquainted with other guests.) Several individuals how we were related to the party, and I would reply, “I’m Vanessa, and I taught with bride-to-be last school year.” <