I am the type of person who tends to relive embarrassments over and over each time getting embarrassed all over again. I find telling someone and then laughing about it helps me to “let go” of it and stop reliving it. (yes, I’m crazy, why do you ask?) so here’s my story:
Background: My band had three gigs this past weekend. Friday night we performed at a night club from 8-11 pm. Saturday we performed at a retail store event at a big mall from 1-5 then our regular Saturday night gig at the Ritz Carlton from 8-midnight. It was exhausting. By Saturday night I was wiped out and to combat the lack of sufficient sleep and general weariness I had more than my usual share of Starbucks.
So, wired and tired, we began the second set at about 9:30. After a few songs someone requests that I sing happy birthday. I happily announce the person’s birthday and request that they all join in singing with me and they did until…
I forgot the melody :o
Try as I might, I just couldn’t find the melody to Happy Birthday. Got the words. Remembered the woman’s name but couldn’t find the notes to save my life.
So I faked it. I might have gotten close, I’m not really sure.
It was one of those things like everyone was singing along and then their voices just trailed off until I was the only one singing…in front of a large audience…into a loud microphone…and out of key. And the woman in the group who were celebrating were all just staring at me.
To add insult to injury…we were recording that night so it’s preserved on tape for all eternity or until I can bribe my bass player who recorded it with enough scotch to wipe it from his hard drive.
Today’s embarassment:
I was in the lobby of the office where I work talking on my cell phone. Something was itching my in the region of my backside where the top of my underwear sit*. Unthinkingly, I stuck my hand down the back of my pants to see what was poking me. So, I’m walking around the lobby (it’s empty, not a busy building) with my hand down my pants and talking on the phone when I turn to face the entrance to my office. That’s when I remember that the blinds on the window of the huge conference room that faces the lobby are those one way kind where people can see out but you can’t see in. There’s a huge conference going on in there with 40-50 people. They can all see me. With my hand down my pants talking on the phone.
:o :o :o
So, in the interest of cleansing our collective psyches (and making me feel a bit less of a freak of nature) share your embarrassing moment. Please!
*turns out the label on the panties was scratching me.
This isn’t as good as yours, especially since I only ALMOST embarrassed myself. At work, making copies or some such in the workroom, I absentmindedly scratched my nether regions. Literally half a second later my boss walked in. And it was no dainty scratch either, it was an adjust-the-undies type of movement. I blush just thinking about the possibilities.
Today was the first day of Skills lab at my nursing school. We were drawing up saline and insulin into syringes, and one of the needles was this big honkin’ thing called a filter needle. Uncapping these guys is difficult because of their size, but everyone seemed to have an easy enough time. Until we got to me.
The cap came off, eventually, but I jammed the needle right into my thumb! Hurt like hell! The teacher gets up, finds me gauze, and tells me to go wash it. Since I’m leaving the needle unattened, I scoop-cap it back up. Mistake.
I get back, and the damn thing has to be uncapped again. Guess what? SAME THING, except this time it’s my index finger that gets it. I kinda wanted to sink into to floor at this point. I felt like the Ralph Wiggam of the class.
For the rest of the class, ever time I uncapped a needle, my hands shook. The professor actually took it from me and did it for me at one point. What a way to start the sememster, huh?
I was taking a week-long course on basic engine and transmission repair (the stuff on riding lawnmowers, snow throwers, stuff like that) as part of some edumacation needed for my job which is related to small engine repair but doesn’t actually involve it.
So I’m in class taking apart an engine with the dude I was paired up with when I dropped a flywheel knockoff tool or something. I can’t remember. I got off my stool and grabbed it. On the return trip from the ground I pranged my head but good on the corner of the fold out leaf of the bench next to mine. It bled. Not much – at least, not compared to how much head wounds usually bleed – but there was blood.
But I shrugged it off. It stung a bit but nothing serious and the bleeding stopped within a minute or two. No problem, fit as a fiddle, continue on like nothing had happened. I was feeling a bit faint though, doubtless from the shock of cracking my head open, or possibly from the burning shame. A few cleansing breaths, let it pass. No big…
The light came first. Then dark shapes, who eventually resolved into people, who were surrounding me as I looked up from the floor I had no recollection of getting familiar with. “Did I just faint?” I asked.
Awkward.
It was the second time in my life I ever fainted. The last time was almost 20 years ago, and that time I had an excuse. (Buddy had me try weightlifting on some cockamamie diet that involved almost no sugars and lots of carbs which my body ultimately rebelled against.) This time was just a combination of my own stupidity and, apparently, my body’s inability to not be such a pussy.
May I respectfully suggest your body was not being a “pussy.” I am in no form a medical expert (just a Mom), but I believe the body automatically goes into some level of shock when there is blood.