You're mistaken, that wasn't me.

This is one of the flying foxes in Vang Vieng.
So, when I was in VV a couple of years back, I was 40kg heavier and had no muscle strength. However, I did have $1 buckets of 'whiskey' (basically prison hooch) and 'red bull', an unending supply of cheap, exotic drugs, and a desire not to be left out. So, in front of a crowd of a hundred or so people, many of them stunningly gorgeous half-naked women, I climbed the tower, grabbed hold of the flying fox, and jumped off.

And plummeted straight down. I landed with the sort of impact that silences a crowd so that there is nothing but the sound of 100 people making that sharp indrawn breath noise... at least for the 3 seconds before the hysterical laughter starts. Or so I was told later. I was busy desperately trying to flounder my way back to shore, which isn't that easy when it feels like Chris Brown has just punched your stomach through your spine.

Good times, very good times.

 

Last year, right before Thanksgiving, I went down to my alma mater with friends for a weekend to catch some hockey games and drink like college kids. One of the biggest bars on campus has a drink called a Mindprobe, which is similar to a Long Island Ice Tea but with more alcohol and sprite+pineapple juice instead of coke and sour mix. Well shortly after I graduated, they created a derivative called a Trash Can. Same base drink, in a bigger cup, add Blue Curacao and a FULL FUCKING RED BULL. Its insanity. Well I had one, cause when in Rome, and was on my way. In my drunkeness, my friend's younger sister bought me another and swapped out my nearly empty one with the 3/4 full one and I kept drinking without realizing it. Cue a fairly hard blackout.

Well as we walked to get late night food, my friend I was walking with jokingly tripped me. Being obliterated, I wiffed trying to catch myself and smashed face first into some concrete steps in front of a crowd of people. I apparently was gushing blood everywhere, got taken to the hospital where I could barely sign my forms, puked in the exam room, and got 3 stitches. I woke up the next morning, surprisingly not hungover, but with a face that looked like I was in a car accident.

Its not entirely embarrassing cause I don't remember 90% of it, but the thought of me being that drunk and having that big of a fail, coupled with that hospital trip, all at age 27 and 5 years out of college, when I had never been to the hospital while in school for anything, was kind of mortifying. I had to lie to my parents and say I got suckerpunched and to make matters worse...it was the weekend before thanksgiving, so it was SUPER fun seeing my extended family with my face a mess.

 

The most recent really embarrasing thing I did was earlier this year at a wedding reception. The bride was one of my girlfriend's co-workers and the reception was at a nice country club with good food and an open bar. I thought vodka and Red Bull would be a good choice and ended up getting drunk enough to mistake the women's bathroom for the men's, in front of everyone. It took me a second to realize what had happened ("Why are there no urinals in here?") but it was too late. I'm probably going to hear about that one for awhile.

 

Well, it's no farting in a bar story and kind of wordy, but whatever.

Okay, I've mentioned part of this in passing when talking about my skinny jean purchase (shut up). I was out at the mall with my husband and decided I wanted new jeans. I hadn't planned on buying at the time, but wanted to get an idea of what I wanted. I have this bad habit of trying on jeans, thinking they are too tight, going up a size, then they loosen up a bit and I'm constantly pulling them up.

So we go in the Levi Strauss store for a quick look. As we walk in a sales guy approaches me and asks if I've heard of their new fits. I said no, thinking he would just TELL me. The next thing I know I've got my arms crossed across my chest with my hands on opposite shoulders and he's having me bend back and forth to each side so he can find my "natural waistline". My husband takes off because he doesn't want to be seen with the crazy lady doing side bends in the store and while I'm doing this I'm looking out of the corner of my eye wondering why there isn't anyone else doing this. Look, there's a lady, why isn't anyone stopping her and making her workout? Is someone playing a trick on me?

He eventually has me stop and then he just eyes me up with his hand on his chin while I stand there awkwardly (what do I do with my arms? This is weird!). He tells me my current jeans are too loose (see!) and hands me his choices and off I go to try them on. Well, no worries about these being too loose. I'm hopping up and down trying to get these suckers on when I realize they ARE all the way up. Huh, that's a pretty small zipper. I walk out and my husband is there, which is perfect because I have to ask him an important question, "Am I supposed to be sweating after trying these on?" No reply, he just hands me his purchases and goes off to do whatever kind of manly shopping can be done at an outdoor premium outlet mall.

So that leaves me to do the ole' squat and stretch in front of the mirror to see if they are too tight, or just tight enough. As I'm doing this the sales guy comes back. This is where he starts on the skinny jean stuff, asking me if I wear boots. I'm trying to think if they sell shoes here and he's going to try to upsell me, but when I answer, "um, some..times?" he then tells me I should go the skinny jean route because they'd look awesome tucked into boots. I proceed to argue with him a bit about how skinny jeans are nobody's friend and how funny I think they look (oh, the irony) and him telling me how great they are, when I realize that in addition to giving me more fashion advice than my husband of many years, he's wearing skinny jeans. Soorrryyyy.

So I ended up getting my purchases and leaving the store wondering what in the world just happened to me.

My husband didn't even have to try his on and his toughest decision was light or dark denim. And I'm stuck doing calisthenics to determine my fit? That's not fair.

And at least I didn't tell my tampon-purchasing story. Always a treat.

 

Here are just a few that I've thought of:

1. I was waiting to cross the street in downtown Brooklyn when I saw a track of someone's weave gently blowing down the road. I started giggling and nudged the huge, thuggish guy standing next to me and said "Look, it's a tumbleweave." I was really pleased with myself and looked up at him with this childlike grin waiting to laugh together. But, instead he looks down at me with disgust and says "I don't know you," and goes back to staring straight ahead. Everyone around us starts laughing at me as my face falls and the light changes and I rush across the street. Whatever, I still laugh at that joke and this was three years ago.

2. I used to be on the Depo shot. One time, the nurse was prepping the shot and she asks "Do you get it in the butt?"
Now, I thought that was a really unprofessional way of asking whether or not I have anal sex, seeing as how I'm at the OBGYN and all and maybe they needed to ask me about my sexual history for some reason.
So, I say, a little uncomfortable, "Um....sometimes...."
"Okay, well where do you want it today - the arm or the butt?" She asks, holding up the needle.
"Oh, THE SHOT?"

3. Spoilered because of length.

Spoiler

I read a couple of blogs that list cool free or cheap events happening around the city, and I'm blaming this pretty much entirely on these blogs. A couple of years ago, a few of the blogs posted about this free vegetarian meal that anyone could go to. This happened a lot at school - different clubs or organizations would host free vegetarian meals in exchange for listening to some presentation about how much better vegetarianism was for you, which was doable in exchange for nondining hall food. I assumed this would be the same and, being broke, was not going to turn down a free meal even if it meant listening to a preachy lecture. I invited a similarly broke already vegetarian friend to come with me.

It was being held in a church - which also didn't really strike me as weird, since I'd been to plenty of community events in churches that had nothing to do with religion. I got there before my friend, and one of the people that was running the event came up to me and asked me if I was there to help out. And I told her, no, I was there for the meal. And she gave me this weird look and walked away and I started to feel a little uncomfortable. I continue waiting for my friend, and while I'm looking around I notice that most everyone else there is really down-and-out looking when I had assumed it was going to be mostly people like us.

She arrives right as they start serving the food and we go down the line and get our food and find a table and start catching up - me about having just started my job at Planned Parenthood and her about just getting engaged to her girlfriend. Then, someone goes to the front of the room and leads everyone in saying grace. A little unusual, okay, but maybe something that the church insisted on if they were going to host it? But then, as they continue speaking, it's not the typical "vegetarians rule" spiel, but more like this sermon on how to get our lives back on track and back up on our feet and there are people that can help us etc etc

And that's when it hits us that we have definitely crashed a soup kitchen. Not the charming, young adult hippie gathering the blogs had written it up to sound like. It's not that we were living very comfortably or anything - the thought of a free meal was genuinely exciting - but we obviously weren't the intended audience for the event/were the only ones not living in the projects or a shelter. My friend and I look at each other, instantly becoming beet red. We can't exactly run out of there in the middle of everything, drawing attention to the fact that we've crashed a soup kitchen, even though everyone is already very aware of our inappropriate presence there, (And also, hey, the food was really good and we wanted to finish.) So, we keep our heads down and quietly eat our meal and then, as soon as the lady's done speaking, grab our things, and rush out the door - everyone watching us as we go.

One of the most awkward moments in an entire life filled with awkward moments.

 

My freshman year of college, I was in an entry level writing class. One day the teacher is reading short stories, that we were supposed to use a guides later for a project. The last one of that hour was a first hand account of Columbine. During that whole class I had been fighting my stomach, I had to far, had to use the bathroom, but I refused to leave class to seek some relief, because of this I was fighting the urge to let one rip the entire time, I was uncomfortable but I figured I could get through the class without leaving. The teacher finished reading the story about Columbine and the class sat silently, I decided at this time I had to let a tiny one go, I couldn't help it. I intended to let a silent one go, hoping no one would notice, but because of the angle of myself in relation to the chair it wasn't silent, no, it was fucking loud.

I farted loudly, in a small silent classroom, after the teacher got done reading a first hand account of Columbine. It was so intensely disrespectful and embarrassing. The teacher was fucking pissed, as she should have been. I had no where to run, it was awful.

 

My degree was in public speaking, so my bar for what constitutes "embarrassing" is now set pretty high.

I've had to sing a speech -- I chose MLK's "I have a dream" -- in front of an auditorium full of people (the exercise was supposed to bring people out of their comfort zone, not only by singing, but by singing something ridiculous). I've lost my place mid-speech and had to totally make up the rest. One time I was leaning on the podium (big no-no, and the last time I did that), and it fell over with a big crash; I attempted to play it off like nothing happened.

Probably the worst that comes to mind, at least right now, is when for our final speech in our "Oral Interpretation" class we were asked to pick one story -- published online or otherwise -- and not only read it, but ACT it out.... I chose Tucker Max's Tucker Goes to Hockey Game, Causes Trouble. The professor said "adult comedy" was ok, and since I was in a class with a bunch of literary nerds who read poetry in their spare time, figured the story would make for a nice change of pace from the Shakespeare crap.

Since I only lived a few blocks from campus, day of the speech I decided to have a beer or two before class to get "into character." A few beers turned into a six pack. A six pack turned into some mixed drinks. Mixed drinks turned into me almost missing class. By the time class started, I fit the legal definition of "drunk," and everyone around me I was certain could smell it on me. Because I know I could.

Whiskey is a helluva drug.

I figured I was doomed when I made the drunken call to alter my sober-decided "screw you"s to the actual-version "FUCK YOU!"s. I knew I was doomed when I acted out the scene where Tucker flicked off the crowd, and I passionately flicked off my professor (while looking directly into his eyes) with both hands. I thought I was gonna get kicked out of the class when I stumbled back to my seat in the top back corner of the auditorium.

And similar to a story above, all of my classmates hated me the next week when the professor was going over everyone's speeches (he reviewed them all to everyone at once). He commended me for being "passionate," using "realistic language," "acting authentic" and staying in character throughout class. I got the highest score for that speech.

And that professor is the prototype for "sheltered, tenured academic."

 

Shegirl, I'll see your falling off a stool and raise you a falling ... um....off my two feet. This is fresh, just two weeks ago I was at a continuing education class with about 150 other Nurse Practitioners. The presenter was up on the stage, I was at the table right by the exit. I had to pee, so was just going to sneak out. So I stand up, maybe the floor is slippery, maybe I am a clutz, but my feet start to slip. It's ok, I can recover, right? So about 10 feet and 10 hours (like somebody said, maybe 10 seconds) of me sliding, righting myself, sliding some more ensue. This catches the attention of the presenter who stops her presentation in horror of what she knows is going to happen. This calls the situation to the attention of 150 concerned health care people to watch me fall directly backward onto my head on a concrete floor hard enough that the folks nearby heard the sound of the impact. What really happened was that I twisted my ankle (which still hurts by the way), I was trying to shake it off, but I had to sit in a chair and do the old "follow my finger" thing while my colleagues looked on in concern. I think somebody even brought out a tiny flashlight to make sure my pupils were reactive. I swear I was so mortified that I could have been leaking brain matter out of my eyeballs and as long as I had my wits about me I sure as hell wasn't going to admit that anything hurt (like a goose egg on the back of my head and my ankle).

But at least I didn't fart.

 

I was hanging out with this girl and I knocked a man out of his wheelchair.

I probably should not have done that, looking back.

 

I peed my pants in first grade.

Background: my teacher, Mrs. Dinosaur, was about 90 years old and mean as a snake. When angry, she would throw pencil boxes or random objects from her desk at us. I also remember a few occasions where she picked up a girl by the shirt collar and shook her while tears streamed down her face. I was terrified of this woman; she put the fear of God into me.

Our class went on a field trip earlier that morning. When we got back Mrs. D wanted to talk about it, blah blah blah. I raised my hand because I had to go to the bathroom. Mrs. D kept yammering on without acknowledging my raised arm. I left it up for probably around 15-20 minutes. I started frantically waving it. I didn't get up and just GO because I was afraid of the teacher and how she'd respond. So, yeah, I totally pissed myself. All over my chair and the floor underneath me. The class was completely silent as Lupe the Custodian mopped. I wanted to crawl into the floor and never return. I spent the rest of the school day in my urine-soaked clothes, a constant reminder of what happened. To my classmates' credit, nobody laughed or made fun of me (to my face). I mentioned it to my mom a few years later, and she was like, "What? Why didn't anyone call me to bring you clean clothes?" I dunno....it's kinda weird and gross that nobody called her. Luckily, we moved a few years later so it only followed me to third grade.

 

Waaiittt a minute...I was standing NEXT to a girl that peed her pants in the first grade. Oh, wait, you were sitting down. This was during the Pledge of Allegiance and she was wearing a dress and it kept splattering on the floor so I had to do some quick maneuvering to get out of the way. However, if your name is Kathy, let's catch up!

Focus: See previous post. Unless you WANT me to write another book. Because I can. I know lots of words.

 

FOCUS: I have had so, so many, it's hard to pick a few, since I suffer from both physical clumsiness and verbal vomit (where you say one bad or inappropriate thing and everything that follows is as bad or worse).

1) Many of you who read the TMMB have already heard this one. Walking in my full school uniform (that is: backpack, blazer, long pants, buttoned shirt, etc.) outside by the school swimming pool (half-Olympic 50 metre one), a soccer ball came hurtling towards me from over the hedge at groin height. I had the option of taking this thing full-on in my nuts, or attempting a kick and possibly getting away unscathed. I chose the latter and misjudged how close I was to the pool. I fell in, but with only one leg and the other half of me hit the swimming pool tarmac HARD. Hard enough for 300+ people in the two classroom buildings adjacent to the pool to hear and then hearing loads of laughter. My pants had, of course, ripped open at the back down the seam. To add insult to injury, I was now late for my next class after managing to extract myself from the pool (despite the extreme difficulty of getting up, no-one helped and it took me a good 2 minutes to extract myself) and then the headmaster, who I despised and despised me, arrived with some guest of his and started talking about something or other at me, while I am simply trying to escape with my ripped and soaking pants (which I am obviously still wearing as I had no spare). The only nice part was the kindly Matron at the B.E. (Boarding Establishment) who did a temporary fix on my pants, having not seen the incident.

2) Same year, same goddamn school. I was receiving a prize in the school's annual prize-giving, the one for most memorable Matric (12th grade) student (i.e. the biggest humourous-to-everyone-else fuck-up). Going up to the stage to collect my prize, I slipped but managed to catch myself on some chairs. Yep, I gracefully plowed into chairs. On my way to collect a prize. In front of 1000+ people.

3) I was about 4 years old and out at the shops with my mom and gran and excitedly I blurt out "Look Mommy! There's a ninja!". No, it was a Muslim woman in a burqa. My mother was mortified, but I didn't give a rat's ass (who does at the age of 4, anyway?)

 

I signed up for a CPR course for my work that was held on evenings to allow for a broader audience to attend. The class started at 6, I had class til 4:30 so I grabbed dinner and headed down. We were practicing the heimlich maneuver and the teacher asked for volunteers. I put my hand up and so does this fairly attractive girl and we go up and he demonstrates again and asks us to go ahead and show the class. I get behind her, do the maneuver he says it's good and I go to sit down. He then says that she needs to practice on me. At this point, my stomach lets out one of those low gurgles you have after a night of drinking sailor jerry and eating Taco Bell, but no one else hears it. I tell them no it's okay and he grabs me and brings me to her, she gets in position with her hands a bit too low and pulls back and I just fart all over her. It was easily the loudest nastiest fart of my life. Everyone burst out laughing, she looks like she is going to vomit exorcist style, and I try and play it off like nothing happened. I walk away saying "I'm not even embarrassed" and the instructor states "im embarrassed for you". That was the worst, way to throw me under the bus, asshole.

 

Juice's sex life will henceforth be referred to as 'puddle of tragedy'. I love it.

On focus, my most embarrassing moment was exiting the washroom with my skirt tucked into my little girl Fruit of the Looms and walking around the school for my entire 15 minute morning break without noticing in the 8th grade. Kids are mean.