Here’s a thread to share your “It’s not what it looks like!” experiences.
I have a small dog who is at the age where he needs a trip or two outside very late at night. His favorite spot is by some hedges that hide him from the view of the road. People who glance over while driving by probably think I like to stand outside in the middle of the night and stare at the road. I’m actually a little concerned that someone will get the wrong idea and call the cops to report me for casing my own house.
My brother was telling us how he, as a librarian, sometimes is in charge of “volunteers” performing community service and he described how he sometimes had them stamp books. He described this by repeatedly making a “stamping” motion with his hand in the air. Except his lower half was obscured by a table so it didn’t look like a stamping motion, exactly.
(It was made even more appropriately funny because he was also explaining why this chore wasn’t actually helpful to the library, and the activity implied by the action is also used as a metaphor for a useless activity.)
The no-longer-extant Ameriquest Mortgage did a series of TV ads on that theme.
Back in the day when I worked for a bank and male bankers all wore a white cotton shirt, a newly married male cow-orker was down on one knee getting something from the floor safe in the vault room. A female teller needed something from the same area and, instead of waiting, walked up behind him and reached over. At the same moment she reached, he stood up. His neck whacked her squarely in the face. She was fine but he was left with a perfect red lipstick print on his white collar. It could not have been drawn on there any better.
I asked him the next day how he explained the lip print to his new bride. He said “I stopped on the way home and bought an identical shirt, took it to a dry cleaners and had it pressed, threw the other shirt in a dumpster and wore the new one home. It just seemed easier”.
Smart guy.
I had one of those while travelling in Thailand with my wife.
We were enjoying some shade while visiting the historic capital city, and so decided to sit on some handy stones in an archeological park. Unfortunately, my wife sat on one that had an ant nest under it.
The ants crawled up her skirt, and they were all over her legs, under her clothes, before she realized it. Then they started biting.
When that happened, she jumped up, screaming. She is very afraid of bugs and being covered with biting ants sent her into a frenzy. She was literally distracted - too much so to do anything helpful about getting rid of the problem.
I had to basically hold her down, strip off her skirt, and pick off the ants while she flipped out - wacking wildly at herself and kicking out (and as often as not hitting me!) while screaming “get them off!”. After I cleared most of the ants, I looked up and saw some folks had gathered to stare - they weren’t sure whether I was sexually assaulting her or not. All they saw was a big guy holding down a screaming woman and tearing her skirt off, then pawing at her legs.
I have eye issues and they often get so tired by the end of the day that I’m inclined to just sort of space out. I’ll stare out into space without focusing or even mentally processing visual input with my eyes usually pointed about 30 degrees below the horizontal.
If I happen to be sitting across a table from a woman, guess where that puts my eyes? Oops. No, really, I wasn’t staring at your breasts!
I think I’ve told this story here before. Back in the day I spent a shit-ton of time and energy making mix tapes. On cassettes. One sunny summer day, a Sunday, I decided to sit down and make some killer tapes. First I needed to clean and demagnetize my tape deck heads. Went to get my bottle of isopropyl alcohol for the head cleaning. Damn, empty bottle. So I walked to the Krogers down the street, found some iso-alcohol and as long as I was there, bought a large bottle of fruit juice to drink.
I set my purchases down at the checkout and the cashier gave me this sad look. I instantly realized what she was thinking. “Poor sad alcoholic…can’t buy alcohol in Indiana on Sunday (Indiana liquor law) so you’re going to try drinking isopropyl alcohol mixed with fruit juice. Poor bastard.”
One time I was at K-Mart and the only things I bought were antifreeze and a box of Cheerios.
Whilst lying in bed reading on the laptop, our Siamese often likes to lie on my legs.
Sometimes her head is down where my knees are and sometimes she’s lying the other way. And sometimes still, she chooses this time to groom herself.
Now then, seen from a particular angle with me lying there, her head rhythmically bobbing up and down, this might create the impression that she is…oh fuck it. I’m not going any further.
I worked showing movies in college, and so stopped at Kroger on my way home sometimes, which was newly opened 24 hrs. Sometimes the movies went until midnight, and I’d be grocery shopping at 1am. Once, shortly after midnight, I was behind a guy who was buying nothing but a 4-pack of D-cell batteries and a jar of Vaseline. I’m sure it was perfectly innocent-- I mean, if it wasn’t, he probably would have thrown several more random things on the belt (I would’ve), and as it was, no, umm, dark interpretations occurred to him.
my stepdad at the time acquired a rather ornery siamiase and something mixed kitten … this cat was spoiled and could get rotten when he was mad or just bored
So parents took to calling him Satan and hed even come to it when he was in the mood … Now also at the time we had a rather young Mormon family (well the wife was he was older) and one day demon cat decided he wants to run through the cul de sac (the first of many he liked to be chased )
Since I opened the door and he just busted ass and was gone before I even knew it was him SO I had to be the one to find him
So 10:30 at night I’m crawling under cars and looking behind bushes calling “here satan here satan” …
I got weird looks from them until the lady realized what they named the cat but shed find him every so often and bring him back to me and hed act all innocent like I was being mean to the kitty she just thought he was the cutest thing ever (in fact when they divorced a short time later I think she took the cat with her … )
I was at a park before… almost at closing… and I was walking past the section that was the dog park. Two adults had let their dog off it leash and it wouldn’t come to them.
It was dark enough out that I guess it was just too hard for them to see in order to catch, so they each started screaming his name as loud as they could, trying to call him.
I learned the dogs name was… Adolph. :smack:
So, these two idiots are running around in the dark (they seemed like they were drunk) yelling and screaming…
“Adolf…! Adolf…! Adolf…! Adolf…! Get Over Here, Adolf! ADOLF, Where Are You???”
It was cringe-worthy.
My grandfather’s name was Bob.
When he died, my grandmother was understandably devastated. As they prepared the body for viewing at the funeral home, she requested some time alone with him, leaving my mother, Aunt and my Aunt’s husband in the secondary room.
They are all standing there, and suddenly they hear my grandmother tentatively say, “Bob?”
They exchange sad glances.
Then my grandmother says urgently, ‘‘Bob? Bob?’’ not like she is crying out in mourning but as if she is trying to get someone’s attention. ''Are you there? BOB!"
Sad glances become immediately concerned. Finally my grandmother calls out, ''Bob Harper?!!"
Turns out the funeral director’s name is Bob.
You should have heard them leash training him. 
Got it. 
My dearly departed dog was named Monkey. (She was named by my Mom, who was her original owner. Mom got her as a puppy, and she kept saying “Wook at dis widdle face! That’s not a dog face! Dat’s a widdle monkey face!”)
Though she started off kinda brown, Monkey ended up having black hair. Also, she just looked like a normal lhasa apso/shitzu mix. (My mom is a bit crazy). When I got her I was living in a condo complex. Two story units–two next door and two behind with little fenced in areas in front.
One day, I’m out in the little fenced in area, watering my plants and the gate door swings open. Like all small indoor dogs, she sensed FREEDOM and ran into the parking lot. I ran after her, scared, and screaming “Monkey! MONKEY! You goddamn stupid Monkey!”
My peripheral vision kicks in and I realize that there are several people standing right outside of the next door gate. I look over and it’s my new black neighbors. Just staring at me.
Me: <laughing nervously> Hiii. I noticed y’all moved in yesterday—y’know welcome. I-I was just yelling for my dog-she got out!
Of course, here come Monkey trotting up, black fur and all.
The family looked at her. Then looked back at me as if to say “REALLY? I know it’s Texas, but really?”
Luckily, they didn’t hold it against me and ended up being the best neighbors I had in that complex.
I did not see that coming.
I have a couple of mild ones.
When our daughter was born, we would take her up to the local pub/restaurant in the afternoon for a meal with friends. One time she was acting up so I took her and started walking around with her. I noticed the bar area was empty and I knew the bartender, so I took a seat there. A friend came to join me and we both ordered a beer. I’m holding my daughter, so I ask for a straw for my beer. We sit there for a while talking, not noticing that the bar area is filling up. At one point I look up and notice a bunch of people staring at me, holding an infant, sitting at the bar, drinking beer through a straw. I mean, it was exactly what it looked like, but it was out of context!
When I would fly with only carry-on luggage, I would put stuff in a plastic baggie and put it in my computer bag. I had things like a toothbrush, toothpaste, and an extra credit card. Over time, it got down to just the credit card. So I’m going through security and a TSA agent starts looking through my bag. He takes out the plastic baggie, gives me a real odd look, shakes his head, and puts it back. For the longest time, I did not know what that was about. One day it hit me. The toothpaste left a white residue on the bag, which contained only a credit card. I’m guessing he gave me the look because it looked like a bag of blow (the TSA does not search for drugs).
I’m sure I have more. My whole life is one big misunderstanding.
These are funny stories.
Our next door neighbors were a couple who have since moved away. The wife is quite attractive. One day we were both leaving our houses at the same time, we said a quick “Hi” to each other, and she walked down her short walkway and then turned to go down the sidewalk, walking away from me.
I wanted to discuss something, but couldn’t quite recall what it was - it was right on the tip of my tongue. I stopped in my tracks and watched her walk away, thinking I’d remember what it was and then I’d call out to her. I wasn’t really looking at her, I was trying to remember, but I was looking in her direction. After about 5-10 seconds I couldn’t remember what it was. I thought “Oh well” and continued on my way.
Just as I turned I noticed her husband had also been leaving the house. He had stopped at the door and had been watching me as I was looking in her direction. I said a quick Hi to him as I continued on. He didn’t really greet me.
I realized later that he must’ve thought I was checking out her hind side as she walked away. I felt bad about that, because I was definitely not checking her out.
I’m sure there are others. I can be very naive.
Recall one occasion where we were putting up decorations at work and I caught a co-worker who fell backwards off a step ladder. She cried out and when I caught her ended up squarely on second base. Everyone turned around just in time to see the ‘after’. Coworker in question was actually quite grateful she avoided a nasty fall and laughed about it afterwards.
I get to work early, and I used to work in a building with 4 elevators, 2 on either side of the elevator lobby.
One morning, I get there early like usual, push the “Up” button, wait a few moments and bing … bing, bing! Three of the four elevator doors open up. Huh, I thought, that’s odd, but kind of cool.
So, later that day, my two guy friends and I are heading out to lunch. As we’re waiting for the elevator to take us down, I’m telling them about my luck that morning. Just as I get to the phrase “Elevator jackpot!” one of the elevator doors opens, and there’s this gorgeous woman in it.
I have no doubt in my mind she thought I was talking about her.