Monday, January 18, 2016

Embarrassing Moments

We've all had embarrassing moments, some so excruciating, you shake your head violently trying to rid your mind of the memory. Heck I have a few that cause me to curse out loud just reliving it in my head. But of course, according to popular belief, its good to learn to laugh at yourself sometimes...So for the sake of my dear readers' entertainment and to much of my embarrassment, here are a few cringe worthy stories:

“Mosquito What?”

I was seven years old at the time attending my cousin's kindergarten graduation with my mom and my barely two year old brother Ethan.
My little brother of course always thought Big Sister was the coolest and wanted to sit in my lap during the ceremony.
As fate would have it we had a seat on a front row of bleachers in front of the entire procession. Ethan, being a normal two year old, was not having any of this and started to get fussy after 30 minutes of watching kids walk past us in blue robes. To say the least he was not entertained.
At one point I gave him back to mom so I could see my cousin walk down the isle. Ethan had other plans when he decided to launch himself off of our mother's lap and grab hold of me....Except for he missed my shoulder and grabbed my shirt.
That shirt stretched down all the way past my belly button. I could've strangled that little rat. I yanked my shirt out of his hands, pulled my shirt up and snapped my head up to see who all was snickering at me. Besides a teacher covering an obvious laugh, no one seemed to noticed I had exposed my bumpkins.
I was so mad at Ethan, I shoved him off on Mom and told him to shut up and be still. He knew I was pretty mad and sat stone still the rest of the ceremony. Mom didn't do much to comfort me,”Oh honey you just got mosquito bites, no one saw you.”
From a young age, mosquito bites, or B cup tatas I knew that men could expose their nipples but not women without it being a cause for embarrassment. Not to mention her calling my flat little bumpkins “mosquito bites” did nothing but make me cringe with embarrassment even more...
Thanks Ethan and Mom.....

“Don't Play Football After Pizza!”

Either you know exactly where this story is going or you don't... Pizza a deliciously disguised heart attack waiting to happen....Pizza is one of the most loved foods of all time, in fact pizza lovers hardly consider it a “junk” food and have found ways to make pizza “healthy”. Bunch of crap if you ask me.
Anyways, one of my most proactive stomach demons happens to be oh so beautiful pizza... I eat it and I'm in the bathroom within twenty minutes.... yeah... its bad...
Well I'm about 15 and my boyfriend invited me over to have pizza with his family one night. Well thankfully his dad ended up having to work late so that spared me one less person of embarrassment... After pizza, we decided to go to the backyard with his younger brother and play football.
About twenty minutes into playing football, my stomach begins to roar its disapproval and I'm trying my best to keep quiet and avoid the bathroom.... Who wants to stink up their boyfriend's bathroom? Uh not me, at least not until after waaaaaaaaaay more dates... Haha! Anyways so here we are playing football and I'm busy impressing my boyfriend with perfect spirals, that is until I get cocky, forget about squeezing my butt muscles together and try to send the football over 50 yards....
The football barely made it 25 yards, it was not a perfect spiral and I had successfully succeeded in shitting myself... Or at least just a little... It was bad too... You can only imagine my panic....
I suddenly made up an excuse that I had to go home, at the time I had my hardship license, so I had driven myself. I didn't even kiss the poor guy goodbye, in fact I didn't even get within five feet of him, I just kept shoving him off, saying I had to go home immediately, something was wrong... I dashed inside, snatched my purse and barely said goodbye to his mother and shut the front door before she could finish asking what my hurry was. I jumped in my car and that's when all hell broke loose, I couldn't tell if it was moist farts or liquid poo pouring out... I finally made it home, and for the most part was relieved to find most of it was just wet farts...
That poor guy never knew why I rushed off like that. He still doesn't know to this day. We only dated for a year but he always insisted I tell him what was wrong that day, I always reply, “It was me, not you, just me.”

“Casserole Dishes Are Explosive”

I like to brag and say yes I am a GOOD cook, not a chef but definitely a good cook. Everyone back home loves my cooking and mostly everyone up here in Yankee Country does too. However, add low blood sugar, natural Southern slowness and a dingy 20 year old, you get explosive glass.
So here I am, low blood sugar, Brandon (my soulmate I speak of so often) standing in the kitchen, with our roommate and his girlfriend seated at the table awaiting their chicken to finish baking in the oven. I decide to make myself some tea.... As we had only been together a couple of months at this point, Brandon had not yet learned to not let me do anything that has to do with cooking, driving or so much as walking when I have low blood sugar, because with low blood sugar I have no reason, no logic and no judgment whatsoever!
So here I am making tea, I struggle to make sense of the electric burner options that says FRONT and BACK and that show obvious pictures which burner belongs to which knob... when your sugar is low though, you just can't work simple stuff like that out...(Anyone that has experienced hypoglycemia knows exactly what I'm talking about.) Either way I knew there was a 4 quart casserole dish on the back burner with fresh made biscuits stored in it. My brain thought I turned on the front burner on high (10), so that my pot of tea would boil and finish faster.
Yea well after a few minutes we all smelled something burning, our roommate took his chicken out of the oven and we all concluded something on the bottom of the oven was burning and dismissed it. That is until I noticed the casserole dish smoking and turning black....
Now my common cooking knowledge told me to turn off the burner and let it cool down slow, but panic that the biscuits inside the dish might burst into flames had me yanking the dish off the burner before I could turn it off..... KAAAAABOOOOOOOOM! The casserole dish exploded everywhere! Glass was all over me, on the chicken and on the floor. One piece hit my stomach so hard, it left a red mark for a couple of hours.... I was so fricken embarrassed at the time, now I just roll around in laughter.... That's one way to impress your boyfriend in a new relationship, blow up a dish on his stove top and booby trap the house with glass shards for weeks....
By the way a week ago, on a sleepy slumber to the bathroom through the kitchen, my foot decided to pick up the last missing itty bitty little tiny shard of glass left from that stupid dish.... I was digging for a splinter of glass in my foot at 3 a.m.......

“Kill me now.... please...”

Nothing says embarrassment like one of your friends walking in on you putting hemorrhoid cream on your morbidly obese ex husband's butthole. God help me, I wish a smack of a hammer would help me forget that. It makes me mad that the idiot was too fat to do it himself and it makes me angry for actually caring for him enough at one point to watch him spread his 400 pound buttcheeks for me to slip on a glove and finger his rectum with hemorrhoid cream... I don't know if I'm still embarrassed about it, mad at him or mad at myself. But God please make it go away!!!!

“House Parties Are the Best!”

A friend of mine and I were at a house for a dressy/formal New Year's party. She had on a gorgeous black dress with silver 6 inch stilettos and I had on a gorgeous black chiffon dress with leopard 6 inch stilettos. Now don't get me wrong, I can walk, run, jump and do cartwheels in heels, but I cannot, absolutely cannot climb open concept stairs with them.
So we are having a good time, neither one of us had a drop to drink when we decide to head upstairs out of the basement to watch the ball drop for New Years. So here we are, I'm heading up the stairs behind her and CLINK, CLICK. My heel is stuck and lodged in the open space of the stairs... I mean its really stuck!
I even go as far to take my foot out of the shoe and yank it loose....It was not coming out! Some other girls tried helping us, and so when New Years struck, yeah I missed the ball drop, the tunes were cranked up and all of us girls were dancing on the staircase, thankfully they all stood there to dance with me to cover up my stuck shoe.
Unfortunately one guy worked out what was going on and walked underneath the staircase, punched loose the bottom of my stiletto when none of the other guys were watching and then walked off. All of us girls exchanged looks, shrugged shoulders and went on about the evening.
On my way out of the house with my friend the mysterious stiletto hero was leaned up against the porch. I smiled shyly, still embarrassed about it when he said so calm and cool,” I like Spider-man too.”
I stopped dead in my tracks yanking my friend to a halt as her and I had our arms looped. I looked back at him with horror only to find he had the biggest grin on his face.
I know my eyes had to be bigger than a hammerhead shark.... I rushed my friend and I off to the car.
Once inside and cruising down the road she asked me why I freaked out about that guy saying he likes Spider-man too.... I said because......
I'm wearing Spider-man underwear!

So there you have it, while there are many many many more embarrassing moments I could share with you all, I could only bare to relive those few. Thank you for reading Straight Southern!

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