I know that embarrassing story threads abound in the archives, but I feel it’s time for a renewal. I’ll share one that happened to my friend, “Susan”:
Susan has one of those husbands who can squeeze out thunderous, prolonged farts almost at will. Susan herself has never even farted in front of her husband (she actually excuses herself and goes outside or in the next room to release gaseous materials.)
Anyhoo, Susan and hubby were in WalMart when hubby ripped out an explosion that could be heard 'round the world. He then screamed, “Oh my God, Susan, how gross!” and ran. WalMartians and customers actually ran to the aisle where Susan was stranded to gawk at her.
Even though the thread title didn’t say “fart stories” that’s the first thing I thought of.
Two guys at work were in the very crowded dining area at a two-seat table, sitting in those formed plastic chairs that serve as amplifiers. One of them hikes a leg and announces to the entire lunch room that yes, this gas must be freed. Then he hops to his feet and says to the startled (and now red-faced) lunch companion, “Dammit, Bill, I’m not going to eat with you ever again” and stalks out of the room. The innocent guy almost melted out of his chair and slithered out of the area without making eye contact with another soul. The laughter in the room was thunderous. I think the innocent guy gave up on eating lunch there.
I was getting a newspaper from a machine at lunchtime. I dig in my purse and find just enough change to buy the newspaper. As its closes my purse strap gets caught in it just before it locks. Yank yank, pulll pull, a few minutes of trying to work it out and I realize theres no way I’m extricating my purse from the machine. The only option is to find more change to open it up. My purse however has been caught so that it’s pointing downwards near the bottom so I have to get on my knees and dig through it an an extremely awkward angle. In the process most of the contents spill onto the sidewalk. But no quarters. I get more and more panicked thinking I’m going to have to be begging passerbys for change. Eventually I find engough in a corner pocket and free my purse (Boston Globe you owe me 50 cents). When I turn around I freeze. Through the plate glass window of the store in front of me are about a dozen laughing faces. I’ve just provided entertainment for the lunch hour crowd at the local sandwich shop.
I wear contacts, or in a real pinch (or at the pool), glasses. My vision is horrible without my contacts or glasses.
A couple years ago, I went to the gym to use the pool. I left my glasses in the locker room, on top of my clothes, and trundled out to swim a few laps. 40 minutes later, my vision even worse from the chlorinated water that’d seeped through my goggles, I padded back into the locker room. Funny, everything was on the wrong side! Weren’t the showers on the right when I’d gone out? Why are the toilet stalls on the right, instead? Hmmm…
Right about then I saw what looked an /awful/ lot like a barely-dressed man. Blink, blink. “Um. Hi. Am I in the men’s…”
“Yep.”
:eek: :eek: :eek:
“Ohhhhhhh, SHIT! Shit!” Y’know, it’s really hard to run on a wet floor, with wet feet, when you’re dripping water everywhere. :smack:
I have to preface this story by saying that one year in college I shared a house with a guy who had some sort of sinus problems, and would start the day spending about half an hour in a hot steaming shower loudly hocking up loogies. (Naturally, the bathroom was next to *my *bedroom, so I got to hear it all.) In spite of his morning bathroom habits – and my incessantly ribbing him about them – we actually stayed friends after being roommates, which is a rarity for me.
So, fast forward a couple of years and we are on a spring break road trip to the east coast. We stopped for breakfast at some restaurant along the Pennsylvania turnpike. At one point my friend gets up to go use the bathroom. While he was in the stall, he heard someone else come in and go into another stall. My friend finishes his business and is at the sink washing up when the person in the other stall starts making loud coughing, hacking, loogie-hocking noises. My friend thinks that it’s me in there, goofing on him, so he yells out *"What the **hell *is your problem!?!?" The noises stop and he hears some muttering, and immediately realizes the mistake he made, so he hauled ass out of the bathroom and back to the table. I laughed so hard when he told me what happened that I just about shot scrapple out my nose.
While on a family vacation many years ago, we stopped at a gas station for gas and a restroom break. I went into the men’s room and both of my sisters went into the ladies room. I came out a few minutes later and as I walked by the ladies room, I tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. I grabbed a small handful of pea gravel from a nearby parking area and opened the door to the ladies and tossed it in hollering “hail storm”, we had driven through a hail storm earlier in the day. I ran to the front of the gas station to find both of my sisters had finished and were back in the car. About that time an older woman came around the corner looking like she was ready to breathe fire. I got in the car and hid so she could not see me. We stopped a few miles up the road so my sisters could go to the bathroom, they didn’t get a chance to go because of the old lady.
As a sufferer of IBS, I could write a book on the number of times the simple act of passing a bit of gas has resulted in a case of what I call gooey butt. Among the list of items that I take with me on any trip outside of the house that will last more than a few hours is a fresh pair of undies.
I was in a grocery store with my ex-wife. We were in the produce section and she was standing behind me. I reached behind without looking and grabbed her butt, just to be silly in public. Instead of her telling me to knock it off, I hear silence. I turn to investigate…to find that my wife had moved and I was grabbing the ass of a female total stranger. I stammered an apology. She gave me a dirty look and stalked off. At least it wasn’t a man.
One day I spent my lunch hour looking at stuff I couldn’t afford at a nice department store. As I left the store, a scruffy-looking man started following me. “Ma’am,” he said. I pretended not to notice him and walked faster, figuring that he was either a panhandler or a masher. “Ma’am,” he said, a little louder. I continued to ignore him, and clutched my purse tightly in anticipation that either he was going to snatch it, or I would have to use it as a weapon to fend him off when he lunged at me.
Finally he shouted very loudly “Lady, your dress is tucked into your underpants.” I reached around, and he spoke the truth. When I’d dressed myself in the store after having tried on some clothes, I had somehow managed to tuck the hem of my dress into the top of my panties.
I called in sick. I was, that is, I was when I woke up that morning. My stomach was doing twists and turns and the toiley was my nest freiend. By noon, I felt so good that I had gotten bored. So I went to the movies. In the middle of some action sequence, my stomach started to turn again. I thought I’d just let out a small fart to relieve pressure. Boy, did I relieve pressure. Thank God the theatre was almost empty. I had to waddle to the toilet to prevent my “fart” from soiling the ground. Remarkably, my undies contained everything. I dumped it into the trash. I admit I went back after to see the movie end.
Joe’s Grocery is run by some guys whose native tongue is not English.
I often wondered where they came from but couldn’t find a polite way to bring it up.
I’m sure lots of rednecks hear them speak and demand, “Where y’all from, boy?”
I once searched the local stores far and wide when sent after tomatoes, usually common in season in Southern rural areas.
Joe’s was my last chance being next to the freeway entrance (They are about to get screwed by a huge franchise being built down the road, but I digress.)
CP: “Do you have any tomatoes?”
Joe:“No, we have no tomatoes.”
CP: “Where ya’ll from?!?!”
Joe, rather tiredly: Greece. We come from Greece.
Never told this story before, and it still makes me embarrased.
I was at a store in my hometown, and at the time didn’t realize I had a medical condition contributing to my bladder insistance. I was 16. I asked to use the bathroom. (Big chain store). They told me to buy something. I grabbed the first magazine I saw and as I paid for it, I peed my pants. They handed me the keys after the transaction, but I dropped them and ran for the car and cried. I’ve never been back since.
I was learning to scuba dive with my wife. During our first dive, I got a little turned around, but managed to catch up with the group. My wife was checking out some coral, and I came up behind her and gave her butt a squeeze. And then thought, “Geez, her legs are kind of gross and veiny…hey, wasn’t she wearing a wetsuit that covered her legs?” In that instant I jerked my hand back and looked up to see Ed, the 60 year old dive instructor whose butt I’d been grabbing. Oops! Happily, I managed to avoid drowning as I cringedand backpedaled and tried to remember the hand signal for “I thought you were someone else, honest!”
We both had a good laugh about it back on the dive boat, though.
I was off to Europe and had a great farewell party and the next day, took a taxi by myself to the airport…Chicago’s O’Hare to be exact. So I checked in at the huge international terminal, with thousands of people in various lines. Suddenly, I hear my name being screamed.
I turn and there was my actress friend, Candy Ferger, yelling, “how can you leave me and kids and run off to Europe! How could you do this to us!? Little Jerry needs his operation! You can’t leave us! You can’t run out on us now! Please don’t leave me!” She ran to me and fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
I was, to say the least, absolutely mortified and every head in the entire terminal was staring at me like I was the biggest, worst sleazeball on earth.
After what seemed like an eternity, another couple of friends jumped from behind columns holding a huge bottle of champagne and glasses and Candy stood up and smiled. The entire terminal burst into laughter when they realized it was all a joke and there was some applause and Candy bowed.
A coworker threw on a pair of jeans he’d worn the day before and went in to work. At one point he realized something was sticking out of his pants leg and when he kicked it out, relized it was his underwear from the previous day. He chuckles and kicks them in the corner under the large table that serves as a double desk he shares w/ his lifelong best friend and coworker, another male. Said coworker returns to the desk area, glances underneath, pulls the underwear out and after a second goes white®. “Where did these come from??”, sounding more hysterical and scared than perhaps needed when confronted by underwear of unknown origin.
Except, he thought the origin too well-known…
See, the day before, he’d been at the urinal and farted, and ‘got more than he bargained for’, so he slipped into a stall and removed the ‘devalued’ garment and threw it in the trash. On seeing the tighty-whites under the desk, he was sure the cleaning ladies had somehow figured out it was him and were getting him back for throwing poopy underpants in the trash for them to deal with.
He was consoled w/ the truth, but of course everyone then learned he’d pooped his pants at work, kind of on purpose.
I was teaching some basic technical training to about twenty people and needed to give an example of dimensional scaling. I held up a thumb and forefinger, slightly apart, and said “Ok, so say that this is two inches.” before the audience started giggling and I realized where I really was going with it. It was already out there, so I had no choice but to explain that others might measure two inches as something bigger or smaller than that.
Sheesh. Sometimes I think that I really was born yesterday.
I was in England studying at Anne Sutton’s School of Weave design. Anne had arranged for some of the students to rent a cottage a couple doors up the street from the school. The 3rd day, i was in the bath in the morning cleaning up etc. I start to rinse the conditioner out of my very long hair (at that time anyway) and this print jumped off the wall, landed on my knee, the glass broke, i pulled a piece out of my leg, looked at the blood smears on it … and screamed ('natch).
One of my roommates yelled “Are you OK ?” and i am reported to have yelled back “No, i am definitely not OK. Could you please come up here ?”. She came running upstairs, screamed … and i sent her to get Anne (not bleeding badly, no need to panic)
then Anne came, stuck her head in the door and said “So sorry. Can’t stay. Don’t do blood. Just want you to know that Nurse is on her way and Wendy’s bringing car round to take you to hospital.” She left my roommate starts helping me rinse my hair and remove glass from tub, and this other complete stranger came in (remember i’m naked in the bath) and said she was the Nurse.
Getting me out of the tub was an operation (mostly 'cause i was a big baby, and afraid to move my leg at all) we had just done that and Wendy came in … all 3 of them helped me get some clothes on … (thank Og i had packed a couple of stretch waist skirts that i could pull on over my head)
when i got back to the school, all stitched and bandaged up, my roommate told the story to the rest of the class. when she got to the part of what i replied to her query if i was OK (every word clearly enunciated) Anne turned to me and said “My, how properly British.”
When one is in a hurry, one sometimes don’t notice wearing two pair of undies at the same time!!
And sometimes the shirt you rewear because it passed the smell test, because you’re in a hurry, is recognized by someone at work. [Hey, I guess the stain didn’t come out when you wore that shirt last week!!] :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes:
The most embarrassing moment I had was just a few summers ago. Me and my family went on vacation, we had been on the road for about 2 1/2 hours when we hit a little traffic. We were just looking around and noticed a car that advertised that it was for the local TV news station. Since we were near their headquarters, I thought it might be one of the anchors. So, there I am, stretching my neck trying to see who was in the car.
I get a look at one passenger, then the traffic moves. I tell my husband “Oh, I think it was Kim” She’s one of the morning anchors, “try to get closer.”
He gets our car closer and I’m looking again. “Oohh! It’s the whole morning team!” The traffic moves again. “Husband move closer!”
You can see, I was getting excited now.
This goes on for a while, we get close to the news car, it moves away, we get closer again, with me pointing and trying to look in the car the whole time.
Eventually, the traffic moves in a way that gets us right next to the news car. I looked over at it again to see that the Entire morning news crew is looking out their window at me, pointing and waving and shouting “Hey! Look it’s a lady in a car!”
