Don’t you mean your drawers?
Once I worked with this lady who had just changed her tampon in the bathroom. When she came back I guess there was a thread hanging from the hem of her skirt and her boss said, “Bette, your string’s hanging.”
The look on her face was priceless!
Back, oh, about 1986-ish, I was dating a guitarist in a local rock band. I got to one gig at a bar a bit late, and the band was already on stage. When he spotted me, my boyfriend said, “Hey, she’s here! Everyone say hi to LifeOnWry!” Just then I caught the heel of my boot on a tread on the stairs and fell, face-first, right onto the empty dance floor.
There was a second of stunned silence, then the bass player yelled out, “SAFE!”
Not to me, thank Og, but to one of the guys in my department at work.
T is a pretty big guy, wears jeans and sneaker type work clothes. One day, he was working up in one of the inventory racks and must have snagged his pants. One of our co-workers noticed it a couple of hours later. Evidently, he hadn’t noticed it himself.
Our boss’ boss was the supervisor on duty that day. He is a kind of quiet, dignified guy. When T told him he would have to leave for a while and why, the boss took his back walking out of the building, trying to hold in the giggles of a six year old all of the while and turning the deepest shade of red. : :o
I now have taken to keeping a small sewing kit in my desk, you know…just in case.
Just had to say that this is my new favorite euphemism!
I’d say wearing a sarong and going commando is playing with fire.
Hummm…
I wonder if Leah M made it home?
I’ve had way too many public humiliations to recount them all. Let’s see though. I went to a 4 year private HS (catholic) So my freshman year, I decided to run for student council. (VP) So about a week into school, we had the election and we all gave speeches. My voice cracked big time in the opening sentence of my speech.
High School kind of went downhill from there.
My friend the marine has told me some of the embarassing things that have happened during military funerals. There was the marine whose pants did the classic rip up the backside as he’s lowering the coffin. Another time, a marine fell into the grave. Just dissappeared straight down like Maxwell Smart in the phone booth. He climbed out, saluted the sgt, and went back to his spot at the coffin.
Agreed. The underpants are key to securely wearing a sarong, for me. I take a piece of the left corner and tuck it in the right leg and the right corner gets tucked into the left leg. Never a problem after that.
I walked around half a work day last week with mashed potatoes streaked across the thigh of my pant leg from my lunchtime to-go box. The more I wiped the worse it got.
I’ve had the toilet paper and skirt-tucked-into-panties bits happen to me before. Embarassing, but not enough to need therapy.
However, I probably would’ve needed therapy if I’d been the lead singer of !!! (chk-chk-chk). When they last played in Toronto, they had what looked to be a sold-out crowd of about 200-300 fans… they were putting on a fantastic show when the seat of his jeans tore wide open right as they were finishing up their set, revealing that he wasn’t wearing a stitch underneath. The moon shone full and bright that night, my friends. 
Being a performer through and through, though, he actually came back out for an encore wearing the same torn jeans with his skinny white butt in full view. That’s chutzpah.
Simple solution: WEAR A SLIP.
This made me laugh out loud at work. 
It’s chutzpah when you roll with what life deals you. When you mean to do it - you’re Prince. (Pretty small and blurry but mildly NSFW.)
Can you believe that was 1991??
You can quite possibly tuck your skirt AND your slip into your underwear.
Just after 9/11, I flew to Paris. I was up the whole flight because, you know, that suspicious-looking guy next to me may try to fly us into the Eiffel Tower or something. I watched him, waiting like coiled steel ready to tackle him when he made his move. He slept the whole time. Anyways, that’s not embarassing, though it is public. No, it happened later.
I got through immigration, customs, waiting 45 minutes at the luggage carousel, walking through Terminal 2C to the railroad concourse to get my first Eurailpass ticket, and buying assorted food for breakfast. I trotted over to the chairs and sat down, at which time my backside and right leg confirmed the coefficient of conduction between bare metal and bare skin. I had a rip from mid-seat down to the knee. I don’t remember hearing any rips, nor doing anything that would cause a clothing failure. Nor did I know what I was going to do for the next 12 hours or so until the train arrived.
I pack light so I’d brought only one more pair of pants that I was determined not to use until this day was over. I couldn’t risk having no functional pants until I got to my next stop where I might find something to fit my larger-than-life frame. As a postscript, that is the only time I ever had clothing issues during air travel.
I don’t think you have to be a performer to be like that; a lot of guys don’t seem to have the same embarrassment about their bodies that women do. While my husband was in the hospital, he was in just the hospital johnny and no underwear, and having the boys out in full view and swinging in the breeze was a complete non-issue for him.
Nawth Chucka, that explains the line from “Don’t Play Me” - “I put my ass away…”
I still remember the Principal of Jonas Salk Elementary School in Tulsa, OK ripping his pants when he came into my 3rd grade classroom (Hi Mr. Carr!).
I posted this in another thread - but I once answered the door of my house late one night to a couple of cops checking to see if a prior tenant was there who was wanted. Given the time of night and the pounding, I had a .44 in my hand, but out of sight of the door. At that moment my bathrobe started to lose its belt, leaving me with the choice of flashing either MY gun, or the one made by Ruger. Of course, one of the cops was female. I succeeded in showing both.
Back when I was a graphic designer and we actually used X-acto knives and drafting tables, my x-acto rolledoff the lip of my table. I tried to grab it but instead succeeded in driving the blade into my thigh.
I hit a gusher and my white linen pants were pure blood from crotch to ankle. It looked as if I’d stepped on a landmine; I called my friend in the next office and told her what had happened and that it looked really bad, but I was okay. She then walked into my office and shrieked like a banshee and ran out into the lobby screaming for the receptionist to call “911.” My boss made me lie down on the lobby floor and they covered me with the emergency foil-y blanket (I was all the while protesting that I was okay, it was just a flesh wound)
So, I got a ride in the ambulance to the ER for three stitches .
Did you threaten to bite their legs off?
Yeah, but I was intending for my boyfriend to be holding the matches.
As usual I was doing the crossword on the train home from work, standing in the vestibule of the carriage. It’s mildly crowded. The girl standing in front of me drops something at my feet, I forget what - maybe a purse or a book. I transfer the pen to the left hand with the newspaper so my right hand’s free to pick up the object and I start to bend down to pick it up for her.
She starts down at the same moment; we both see that, straighten up, see that, bend again, straighten up … I decide this is silly so the third time I keep going. Unfortunately she made the same decision at the same moment; being shorter than me I only stab her hard with the point of my pen in the top of her head, rather than right in the eye. Oddly I got no thanks as she stepped out of the train, rubbing her head and complaining to perfect strangers that I’d stabbed her in the head.
