I was just heading out the door on a nice sunny day when I remembered I’d done some washing. Without even stopping to slip my bag off my shoulder I grabbed the washing basket and hung about half of the stuff on the line, leaving the rest for later. I then got as far as the bus stop before I noticed the bra hanging off my bag. At least it was a black bra and a black bag.
Also beige and pink shoes.
faithfool, I lost my bottoms diving into the pool at summer camp. I had to fetch them from the surface and struggle into them right there in the deep end with two lines of people waiting at the boards watching me. :eek::o Fortunately, I was only about 12 and there wasn’t much to see.
Re: the bird poop down the back — I’ve arrived at work more than once with baby spit-up on my shoulder. Not recently, however, since my procreatin’ days are now behind me (and my grandmother days are FAR into the future. Far. Into. The. Future.)
I once went out in a pair of black trousers that had a great big white handprint on the arse. My other half had been in the kitchen making bread as I went out and he gave me a big kiss and a bit of a grope as I was leaving.
I only found out when I got to the pub and one of my friends asked me what the hell I’d been up to before I left home. 
I got married in Las Vegas, at the Bellagio. The wedding was beautiful, went off without a hitch, well, just the one. Then everyone, about 20 people came back to our suite for a small reception.
About 10 minutes in, the maid opened the door. She said it was supposed to be vacant. So, the reception happened without the groom, who had to go to the desk and fix the mixup.
Not my embarrassment, but I caused it.
When I was a little kid, maybe 4, I went to an afternoon movie with my aunt.
As we were walking into the theater, the elastic on her underwear gave way. They fell to the ground. She stepped out of them, apparently, not noticing.
Well, she did notice, she was trying to be discreet. I, however, picked them you and loudly told her, “Aunty, you lost these!”
I was really early for an interview and decided to stop by the cafeteria and eat breakfast. I chose oatmeal.
At the beginning of the interview, the woman said, “You have something on your jacket. Here, let me get you a tissue.”
I had dribbled oatmeal onto my dark jacket. It didn’t look like oatmeal.
P.S. I got the job anyway!
When I worked in an office I would shower in the morning before work. One morning I got to work, walked in the front door, stopped momentarily to say good morning to the receptionist, walked through the office saying good morning to a few people, sat at my desk, somebody popped in to ask a question and then left. When I bent over to find something in my bottom drawer my chin sort of stuck to my neck. Reached up and found a huge green booger plastered to my neck. Washed out of my nose during my shower and lodged on my neck. Somehow I missed it while brushing my teeth. I never knew if anybody noticed.
Ellen, instead of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, you and I should start the Sorority of the Missing Doper Swimsuits. We’d be a hit at the next skinny (or in my case, fluffy) dip. 
And picunurse reminded me of two I’ve heard about myself doing since I was a wee small lass… seems my stay-at-home mom had to call a plumber out to fix some leak. I was there watching him work and, apparently bored, piped up and asked if he knew that my mom had false teeth. He was mortified and just stated at me. As mom walked around the corner, I told her to show him.
But before she remarried my step-father, I was a big hit on a date she had. We were pretty poor and my mom being the independent sort, didn’t always want whatever guy paying for her, so she’d invite him over, cook and still not have to hire a babysitter. I would play in my room while they visited. After a while, mom decided I was too quiet and wanted to know what I was up to. I yelled that I’d made her a necklace and asked if she wanted to come see. Next thing you know, there she was in my room, with date in tow, and me smiling with a “necklace” made out of tampons.
I don’t think she ever saw him again.
Why would you shave half of your face twice?
Not sure if this counts, but:
I went to tanning salon and was shown into the “room” that had a window to the outside. It was night so the window was blacked out. I proceeded to strip down and apply lotion quickly before the bed started when all of sudden somebody knocked on the door and asked to me to close the blinds. Horrified, I asked how she knew they were open. Apparently someone off the street came in and told her they could see me totally naked. I was mortified. When I came out after, I apologized for forgetting to close the blinds. She said it happened all the time 
My low moment was when I realized I was wearing one white sneaker and one tan suede sneaker.
What half? That’s crazy if it was his left or right half!
I moved to Tennessee from Pennsylvania about ten years ago, and it was like moving to the tropics for me - so freakin’ hot, and so many weird bugs. Shortly after settling in, I went looking to finish up my bullshit Associates degree because, why not? I drove to the campus and walked in to speak with someone at the main desk. As I was speaking, the young woman looked at me kind of funny, and made a motion pointing to her lapel.
I was confused by this, but I got the idea that she was referring to something on my shirt. Without thinking about it I reached up, and suddenly something fairly substantial was clutching my fingers. Surprised and panicking, I look at my hand, and a goddamn CICADA was in my hand! I didn’t really take time to process this: All I knew was some big-ass, heavy, scary-looking bug was suddenly, and quite without invitation, holding my hand. So again, without thinking, I moved to quickly remedy the situation, and flung it away from me - RIGHT AT THE WOMAN. So from her point of view, some guy walks in off the street wearing a big bug and proceeds to throw it at her.
The rest of my business with her was short and awkward - much like all my business with women, so no real change there.
IIRC it was his right half. Eyebrow, head, 'stache, beard, chest, pubes, leg.
Didn’t happen to me but to my eversoclever daughter. She was in some other city on a work related excursion, walking down the street with a group of newly met fellow employees. A pigeon pooed on her arm and without breaking stride she wiped it off and onto the guy walking next to her in one motion.
Then her brain kicked in.
He was less than impressed.
A guy in my dorm was so hungover that he went to class not realizing that his girlfriends panties were sticking out from under the back of his ballcap.
Last summer I got up from my bed and put on a shirt so that I could go out to dinner. As I was leaving my hotel room I noticed some yellow goo on the doorknob. And on my hand. Yuck.
I washed off, and left again. Same goo.
I washed off, and left yet again. Same freakin’ goo!
I once again washed off, and left, this time gooless.
When I got to the restaurant, I discovered the source of the goo. It was mustard that I’d spilled on myself at lunch. It was on my upper chest. Fortunately (or not), it blended right in with the pattern on my shirt.
The worst part was not the embarassment, but the fact that I’d paid big money for the shirt and it was the first time I’d worn it.
I stood in line at a Costco once with toilet paper hanging out the back of my jeans. Yes, I felt like a complete idiot when I figured it out.
When my daughter was eight or nine months old, I gave her a grilled cheese sandwich to gum up for lunch, then gave her her bottle, then we went on errands.
The whole time I thought I smelled something bad. I was still on spitup alert at that time, but I examined both my daughter and the visible parts of my clothing while we were out, and couldn’t find anything. I decided I was probably going crazy.
When we got home, I took off the shirt I’d been wearing and found a huge trail of bright-orange Kraft slices spitup down my back. I mean, ALL the way down the back. She must have gotten me as I carried her out to the car. Did I say the shirt was burgundy? Yeah, the Kraft cheez orange really clashed. Ugh.
I understand that every mother has a story like this.
It’s not without reason that I keep a small mirror in my drawer within reach at work.