Ok…listen to this: my father is saving up pictures of me naked as a baby just to embarrass me the next time i bring a girl home
tubagirl, that made me laugh, hard. i got relatives like that, too.
When I was about 10, my parents took me and my brother with them to their friends’ house one evening. Things were good to start with - we played with the other kids, while the adults played Scrabble and talked - but then the hosts decided to uncork the homemade wine. My mother got blind drunk, while my dad stayed sober so he could look after us.
Anyway, the time came when we had to walk home at the end of the evening. Halfway there, my mother urgently needs to go for a pee. Before long, she starts to wet herself, then proceeds to lift her skirt and lower her panties in the middle of the street.
She finished off the job in full view of passing traffic, then fell over and ended up rolling around in the puddle with her panties still around her ankles. Throughout this, my dad is trying (and failing) to preserve her modesty, while my brother and I die of embarassment as people honk their horns as they drive by.
OK, for once, I think I can top all of you…
When I was 21 and home from college on winter break, my mother walked in on me and girlfriend … en flagelen? In fragrate?
We were fucking.
That was bad. A very bad thing. We thought she was out for the evening. Turns out she was just asleep. We were in the den, with doors shut, not that that helped.
I remember hearing footsteps and thinking briefly that this couldn’t possibly be about to happen. Then I heard the door come open, a gasp, and then the door closing abruptly. The girl later claimed she could feel me “deflate” like a balloon stuck with a pin.
My girlfriend found the whole thing hilarious (the next day), and she still tells this story with glee.
I have yet to see the humor in it.
:eek:
From pldennison - “or the time my mother threw me and all my belongings out of a truck on the side on I-71 south of Cleveland during Spring Break because my emotional problems led to poor grades in winter quarter and placement on academic probation. Which would you vote for?”
pldennison - I agree with TVeblen, I’d prefer strangers seeing me on a highway rather than family and future in-laws seeing me screamed at (gee, I wonder WHY you were having “emotional problems”). Then again the later has the advantage of you have TONS of sympathy the next time you bitch about your mom (see my contribution below).
BTW - did you go to Cleveland State University or Case Western Reserve University? I work in the law library at Case. What did you major in and when did you graduate?
Per Enright3’s observation, I will now separate my parent stories into two catagories, “simply embarrassing” and “outright traumatic.”
“S.E.” from Dad - he was a bit of a goof, and when I was a little kid he used me to play a prank on his eldest sister. I had asked him what life was like for a kid during WWII. He said he didsn’t remember, but to be sure to ask Aunt Annie what it was like to be a kid during WW ONE! Which I did. Much to her dismay and my father’s amusement (she wasn’t even born yet).
“S.E.” from Mom - the topper has to be the time my older sister Kim, my little brother Nat and I got locked out of the house while we were shovling snow. We had to go to a nearby relative’s house to have them drive us to the Higbee’s she worked at and get her key so we can get inside. I was elected to go in and get the key from Mom while they waited in the car (thanks, Kim!). I go to the second floor of Higbee’s, told Mom the story and she proceeded to escort me to the basement level where employees kept their stuff while they worked. Along the way, she stopped and told every one of her friends what had happened, getting a HUGE laugh out of it while I was just dying inside.
Now for the trauma…
Dad - when I was in high school, I went out somewhere with two of my girlfriends. I could SWEAR I had already told my Dad I was going out and with whom, but he insisted that I hadn’t. Even if I hadn’t, I didn’t deserve what came next. As my friends and I stood in the living room, me insisting I had indeed brought him up to speed, he yelled “LIAR” from across two rooms. All I remember from the rest of that evening was sitting in the back of my friend’s car, crying and embarrassed while they comforted me.
Mom - This particular trauma included a witness, namely the man I was dating and am now married to. George needed a ride home (his car had broken down), so I said I’d take him. Mom told me a half hour before we were to leave that I wasn’t allowed to use the car until my room was cleaned (did I mention I was already in my 20s at this point? Actually, I had one year of grad school under my belt by then and was still living at home for financial reasons). Since there was no reasoning with her, I basically “cleaned” my room in under ten minutes by throwing everything into my closet, figuring I’d sort it out later. But that’s not the end of it.
As I’m pulling out of the driveway with George in the car, my Mom waives me over to talk. To this day, I don’t remember her exact words, but the gist of it was my room was not nearly as clean as she would like it, but she would allow me to use the car anyway. This was said in the most condesending tone I’d heard from her in a while (which is saying quite a lot). And in front of George. After she had finished humiliating me, she gave George a perky farewell, while he could just utter something like, “Thanks…Mrs. Marvel.” I was so furious that I drove rather wrecklessly for a few minutes while George tried to calm me down.
The upshot to this last story, pldennison, is that George used to encourage me to be “nicer” or more relaxed around my mother, which irritated me to no end. After the little show of hers, he understood why I distanced myself from her and backed off of encouraging us to be buds.
Hang in there, pldennison. Like the saying goes, living well is the best revenge.
Patty
I should’ve added that my Dad did appologize the next day for calling me a “liar” in front of my friends. My mom, on the other hand…imagine Edith Bunker but not quite as sympathetic. My sibs and I learned long ago that trying to reason with her is like talking to a brick wall.
Patty
A little background for the story: My dad works at a pickle company. The year I was in the 10th grade, the company introduced a product called “sandwich stuffers”. Essentially, it the product is a pickle cut into slices along its length rather than its width. They produced all sorts of things to market these ‘sandwich stuffers,’ most notably t-shirts featuring the product name, slogan, and a nifty little design.
Now to the story: During Awards Day at the end of 10th grade (where awards are presented to students for best academic achievements, etc.) my parents were presented with an award in recognition of their donations to the school library. My mom went up to accept the award. She was wearing one of the promotional t-shirts. This particular shirt featured the product slogan on the back in huge, black letters.
The slogan? “Get Stuffed”. :o
(More embarassing for my mom really, but I never heard the end of it from certain members of my class.)
Your father named you xizor? That’s more than embarrasing, that’s cruel. 
Very early in my life, my mother decided I was crap and my younger sister was golden. I was born December 25, 1954; she on October 31, 1956. Nearly two years apart.
My mother enrolled me in Kindergarten when I was 5-3/4. The principal told her I should be in first grade and she said very loudly “Oh, no. She’s too stupid.” I can still remember that. I had taught myself to read when I was four, but she made me go to kindergarten.
The next year, she enrolls my 4 year old sister in kindergarten. So I had the humiliation of being older (and I thought stupider) than anyone in my class, and having my nearly two years younger sister in the grade behind me.
Actually, I am rather envious of most of the previous posters. Your parents did what they did out of too much love or at least misplaced love. A great many of the things you cite are more charming than truly embarrassing. Although I’m sure you saw them as mortifying at the time.
You see, my mother was an alcoholic. She passed out at my high school graduation. At a football game one time, she was so drunk she fell out of the bleachers. I had to leave the game still in my unifor to go with her to the hospital. She was in no condition to sign herself in and I was all of her family. On parent’s visitation night at schools, most kids are worried about their parents telling their teachers something embarrassing. I was always worried that she would breath on one of my teachers or pass out in the restroom. When police come to most schools, most kids worry about hiding their pot. I was worried if my mother was in another accident or if the cops were just there to tell me they took my mother home again and where the car was so I could pick it up after school.
So your parents were so proud of you they took you to the library in bright and out style clothes, or wore your school colors a little obviously? I truly envy you people.
Sorry about the rant.
Oh my. When I started reading this thread I expected that it would be mostly light-hearted anecdotes, but some of this stuff is quite sad and painful to read about.
I am so sorry that you had to go through so much trauma with your mother. 
My situation is not the same kind of thing. My parents never did anything that disturbing and tragic to me. But I nonetheless can relate to feeling envious of other people’s parents.
My father had a stroke when I was about 10 years old. It paralyzed his right arm and compromised his ability to walk (unfortunately, right now he can’t walk at all because he is recovering from an amputation of the affected leg due to a circulatory problem). I think having a parent who can take you places (and then embarrass you there) or being able to hear your parents say “dumb” or embarrassing things is a luxury in a way, because my Dad hasn’t been able to go out in public very much since the stroke and I can’t really have a conversation with him. The most difficult part has been that he has not been able to speak in complete sentences since the stroke.
Frankly, it used to anger me when my friends would complain about their (healthy) parents. I used to think, “You’re LUCKY you can afford to take them for granted”. I was the kind of person who encouraged my friend to make up with his parents no matter how angry he was at them, since you never know when something will happen. One day Dad seems fine; the next day he has a stroke. One day Mom seems fine; the next day she tells you she has breast cancer and needs to have surgery right when you’re going back to school for the year.
On the other hand, I am starting to realize that it is partly a matter of perspective. Sometimes it’s hard to see that everyone has their own cross to bear, and that people’s situations are not always as easy as they seem from a distance.
I just wanted to comment on this-- parents are funny things…they forget what might embarrass a child and what might not, which i’m sure you’re aware of if you’re out of college. but the drinking thing? your parents didn’t do that to you. they just had a rule-- the only reason to be embarrassed about that would be if your friends gave you flak about it, which would make them small and you a bit too insecure (which is totally normal for that age… i know, i’m a junior in college : D)) It’s just weird how, as you get older, you realize how hard your parents have been trying all these years, and how often you didn’t notice. I’m feeling that big time.
My mom always had a way of “volunteering” me to do things for her coworkers/fellow churchgoers/damn near anyone. I was a very shy kid, and I found this mortally embarrasing (not to mention offensive, since I didn’t think she had the right to give away my free time). The sticking point finally came when I was about 19. I had just driven her to work, where the worksation was being set up. She loudly stated that I would help some guys at her job haul some stuff (and hauling this stuff was their job, for which they were well paid). I bitched her out about it, and she never did it again.
Dear me, I can’t compete with any of this. Still:
I was 23, in my first real job (mainframe programmer).
My stepfather worked for the same company as a project manager. Not a bad situation, all things considered - he & I agreed on a professional attitude from day 1, and that went smoothly. Then came the company events where partners were invited, which in a nutshell meant having my mom present at office parties - somewhat awkward.
I especially recall her praising the great benefits the company offered families with children - “I mean, my son is looked after 8 hours a day at no cost to me.” Hilarity ensues.
Gee, thanks, mom - I really needed to hear that in the background just as I had the cute gal from marketing looking interested.
S. Norman
I have you all beat.
My Mother rolling down a 7 foot grassy knowel accidently at an outdoor community fair I was playing at with a brass band, before getting up and giving me the thumbs up to say she was ok.
I was 14.
I am still reminded of that by my friends.
Don’t know if this counts as embarrasing, really, but it DID directly affect me for a number of years as a youngster…
It was 1970 or 1971 and Elvis was coming to town for a concert. My father, a retired military man and WWII/Korea/Cold War vet, made some type of disapproving rant at the TV as the commercial ran promoting the show.
I asked “Why, Daddy?” “Son, it’s because he makes motions up on stage that only married men are supposed to make in their bedrooms with their wives.”
I could only imagine my dad “performing” “Houn’ Dog” with my mother. I was five years old.
I was a senior in High School and I had the lead in the school musical. I had a major crush on the leading lady playing opposite me (who I conveniently got to kiss in the play, but thats besides the point). This girl was… difficult, to say the least. She like to toy with guys, basically. She led me on in many ways, but I’m sure she had no intentions of ever having a relationship. I can see this looking back of course, at the time, I was totally clueless.
So anyway, one night I was having trouble sleeping and I was downstairs sitting at the kitchen table having a midnight snack and my dad comes down and strikes up a conversation with me. We never talked all that much, my dad and I, but for some reason I decided to unload all my girl-problems on him. I explained how I really liked this girl and how she led me on and made me think she liked me too but then would never actually get serious, etc etc.
One night after our one of our performances, there was a cast and cast-parents’ party. Somehow my dad ends up talking to this girl’s mother. Right after introductions are made, my dad announces loudly, “So… it looks like my son and your daughter have a little mutual attraction going on, eh?” The girl’s mother was stunned into silence for a few seconds, and then she replied, “Well, I don’t think its mutual.” This was within earshot of many other parents and many cast members as well. Needless to say, before long EVERYONE knew that this had happened. Way to go, dad. That was the last time I ever discussed my personal life with him.
ouch, dil!
Nothing to compete with some of the earlier stories but it was embarassing. I was 11 and on a bad soccer team. During the last game of the season. My dad starts to yell at the top of his lungs “Run faster, Go get the ball, Run, Go get it” I tried to pretend he was yelling at someone else and I could hardly see the ball through the tears. The next year I played football where you at least have helmet to hide in.