Please post your most mortifying experience

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

I dunno, it’s hard for me to be embarassed. I’m the guy that farts really loudly in Jack in the Box after a long and grueling Friday at work. I just gotta be comfortable, and if I cause a scene in the process, that’s just ana added bonus.

But I was scared shitless a few months ago. Here’s the story:

I was on my way through Albertson’s to grab some Coca-cola (or Nutella or Twinkies or some other wholesome delicacy) when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a fish. I don’t think much of it, because it’s a grocery store – they have fish. However, as I pass the the fish, I’m horrified when the motherfucker decides to turn, look straight into my eyes, and start singing a horrible fish-parody of Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman.”

I screamed like a girl, ran out, and never went down that aisle of my grocery store again.

-Farris J Goldstein

Ban Big Mouth Billy Bass

22

As you wish, although I’ve been trying to forget this for over 20 years. I was working as a nurses aide in a nursing home and had just finished giving a soap suds enema with very good results to a gentleman who was frankly full of shit. Well his room mate was in the bathroom so I decided to empty the very full bedpan and its very stinky contents in the hopper just across the hall. (Can you see it coming? As I stepped out into the hall, I slipped in a puddle left by another incontinent resident, slipped and went straight back with my arms extended and poured the contents of the pan ALL OVER MY HEAD AND BODY !!! I crawled into the hall shower, stripped and pulled the call light. While my clothes were sent to the laundry, I had to sit in the shower room in a hospital gown. Oh the Horror…

23

I forgot another juicy part. In the first few seconds after this happened and I was still lying on the floor mortified, a very cute, very hot, very manly visitor walked around the corner saw my plight and said "Hi, I’m Joe, Mrs. Jones grandson, You’ll probably be seeing a lot of me. Can I help you? very Lucy-like I responded WAAAAAAAAAAA

24

I’m starting to feel better- and what the heck, everyone has to poop sometimes, right? I would think people would feel sorry for me rather then mock me. My only real consolation is that at least I’m a brand new employee, so they don’t really know me well enough to make a joke of it. If it had happened a few months later, I may have received the same treatment CanadianSue did. ::shudder::

Thanks for sharing, and keep 'em coming!
Zette

25

I’ve had a few…

In First grade, I was on stage in our yearly pageant, when I had to pee. BAD. So, as any good student, I raised my hand hoping to be called on and excused. I wasn’t. After what seemed like forever, waving my hand frantically, I ended up letting go. On stage.

I can still remember the brown/tan checked polyester pants I soaked (oh, c’mon, it was 1973!).

The next year, I was dressed up like a rabbit, reciting a poem. My teacher had to stand directly behind me to hold my ears upright.

I was reciting with unbridled emotion when I flung my arms open wide…and punched my teacher in the gut.

Needless to say, I have since repressed my thespian instincts.

I am over all of that.

But at my best friends’ wedding, I was one of the groomsmen (bastard didn’t make me the Best Man. :p).
It was my first time in a tuxedo.

Sometime before the ceremony, I was standing with a few others when my ex-girlfriend noticed the buckles on the sides of the trousers and asked what they were for.

Not knowing their purpose, and being utterly full of shit, I said “They’re so you can hook your thumbs through them and stand around looking cool.”

I then demonstrated.

I stuck my thumbs through the buckles, they undid and my pants fell down–in front of about 50 wedding guests.

26

Zette, you’ve got guts to admit that. And I am guffawing over the chat!

I have two to relate:

This was back in 1990 or thereabouts, I’m visiting my boyfriend in PA and Sunday morning we hear all his housemates leave for church. So we proceed to make noisy, glorious, wonderful woopee on is loud creaky antique sleigh bed. Then he gets his guitar and loudly and obnoxiously sings and impromptu composition detailing our relationship and the great sex we just had. We take a breather from the hooting and hollering and suddenly Peter says “What was that?” I freeze. We can hear someone walking around. I KNEW I heard his housemates leave, but SOMEONE IS STILL HERE! I nearly died. He got dressed and walked downstairs and I hear him stop at the bottom, and say “Hi. Who the hell are you?” and burst out laughing. Turns out one housemate let a friend crash when they got back from the bars the night before, and he declined to go to church. I refused to emerge from the room until the guy left.

Later, in grad school, I got into this drunken smooch session with one of my male friends. I guess things went pretty far, and we were half undressed on the couch and apparently he and I both passed out while his head was buried in my naked crotch. Which is where my roommate (also a former lover) found us when HE got home. I really don’t recall this but I am a little mortified by what my roommate WOULDN’T say about it. He has NEVER brought it up again, but sometimes I remember and feel like vomiting. Oy.

27

Every time I think of this I still want to die.

I had a good friend from my church youth group and boy
scouts who I had been out of touch with for many
years. When I was in my mid twenties we happened to
run into each other and started getting together
and became fast friends once again. He was married to
rather strange but nice woman named Terri.
(remember that name…starts with T)

A few years later he was (sadly) divorced and soon
afterward began dating a wonderful woman named
Patricia. She said to call her Trish.

Anyway, they got engaged and my friend asked me to be
his best man at the wedding. I was quite honoured
and accepted. The wedding was great and we all
hauled of to the reception. I was a bit nervous
about getting the toast right. (I had chosen a
quote from a Robert Browning poem).

So, I had few drinks and then suddenly, for I wasn’t
paying attention, I was handed a microphone as it
time for the toast.

cringing in memory I opened my mouth and said…

“Paul and Terri, I want to…” and my friends
new wife screamed, “My name is Trish”

You see, of course, that I had called her by my friends
ex-wife’s name. DURING THE TOAST.

Eventually, I did, in fact, finish the toast, but
by then it really didn’t matter.

I couldn’t face my friend after that and frankly,
still can’t. It’s all too embarassing.

So, I’m sort of in this self imposed exile.

Dearest Zette, I do believe this was worse than
a good sh*t.

28

Uber,
I gotta admit, that’s a baddie. Oh, and just so you know- if you just keep typing and don’t hit the “enter” key at the end of a line, it will automatically wrap for you. It makes it a little easier to read your horribly embarrasing stories. :slight_smile:
Zette

(feeling better all the time!)

29

I dunno, makes it look like poetry.

30

Sixth grade. Class officer assignments.

One of the class officer assignments (chosen every three months) was Fire Marshall. I don’t remember exactly what this position entailed but it had to do with fire drills.

I was chosen for this illustrious role and got to go through the “training” that the teacher had set up. This training involved carrying a bucket of water around with me for an entire school day and then, at the end of the day, using the water to put out a small fire set by the teacher out on the playground.

So anyway, I carry this water around all day. Ten minutes before the end of the day the teacher takes the class out to the playground. I am supposed to wait in the classroom and when I hear his whistle run out with the water and dump it on the fire.

I hear the whistle. I run out the door, see the fire, run to it, and throw the water out of the bucket.

Can we all guess what happened? Yes, that’s right, I missed the goddamned fire!

Fortunately sixth graders are a caring, understanding group of people and it was never mentioned again. snort

31

I picked up my children from pre-school where they had just finished the Police are your friends, here’s how to use 911 lesson.

I’m walking down the street with my 2 3 year olds when I pass the smallests of bursts of gas. My daughter, having learned her lesson well and in her loudest, squeakest 3 year old voice, yells:

“Police! Police! Mommy farted. Arrest Mommy! She farted! Police! Police!”

Since she had caught the attention of all the Police Officers in our nieghborhood, infanticide was out of the question.

32

I have a few embarassing moments I’ll share. The first embarassing moment I remember was when I was in the 2nd grade. I had burritos for lunch that day and it was Kansas Day and the whole school was in the gym for an assembly that afternoon. About halfway through the assembly I knew I was going to throw up so I told my teacher and she told me to run to the bathroom. I got to the back of the auditorium and started puking. I swear to God, everybody in that gym turned around and watched me puke all the way to the bathroom, leaving a trail behind me.

My most recent shit story happened about a week ago. We were having problems with the toilet not flushing and the landlord was coming out about every other day to snake it and try to fix it. Well, one morning the toilet wouldn’t flush so I called the landlord and he said he’d be out later that morning. All of the sudden I felt the “urge” and knew that I was going to have to use our non-flushing toilet to take a shit. I had my kids at home and trying to pack them in the car and into a gas station so I could take a dump was not feasible… this was coming on much too quickly. I went ahead and used our toilet and really filled it up!! I just wonder what my landlord thought when he came to fix the toilet and found the mound of shit in there!! Maybe he thinks it was my fiancee and not me!

The only other time I was kind of embarassed was when I had a little party at my apartment and my (then) boyfriend and I went into the bathroom and had sex and when we came out everyone was waiting for us, applauding! I guess the walls were pretty thin and they heard everything!! I just laughed about it but it was rather embarassing! A few people still through that up to me every now and then!

Not quite as embarassing as what happened to you but it’s all I got!! :slight_smile:

33

It seems shy-making skirt episodes (falling off, blowing, tucked into pantyhose) are a coming-of-age rite with us gals. Here’s mine:

  1. Baltimore. I am wearing a 1960s shortie Baby-Doll nightie as a blouse, tucked into a Danskin wrap-around skirt, and typical awful 1970s platform sandals. I glance into a store window as I go by and note that I have left the skirt some two blocks back—it has untied itself. So there I am strolling around in nothing but a Baby-Doll nightie and platforms.

I have never worn a wrap-around skirt since . . .

34

You know, Zette…

That story’s pretty embarrassing, sure…

But don’t you think you owe the newbies the tampon story? I mean, that one is SO much better…

:wink:

35

Eve – So what did you do on a Baltimore street wearing little more than a smile?

Zette – Yes, do tell. Please.

36

DB, only a select few chatters have been privy to that story. It shall stay forever in thier collective minds, never to pass through these fingers again. At least until the next time I get tipsy in chat!
Zette

Hey, DB…where’s YOUR embarassing story??? You must have one!

Southern: you are evil- through and through!

37

Zette, I’m in agreement with DB on this one. My view on tampons and scope has been forever changed. Everytime I see either one, I think of you and giggle!!

38

Zette – What did I do? :confused:

CanadianSue – Thanks. Now I have a really horrible image with regards to mouthwash and I still haven’t heard the story!

39

Party at friend’s house.
Everybody drunk.
I wake up in a self-inflicted puddle.
It ain’t beer.
At least not anymore.
Have to borrow girlfriend’s extra jeans to get home.
She’s considerably shorter + skinnier than me.
Stumble across campus in skintight jeans and clouds of a hangover, carrying damp bundle of clothes and accompanied by hysterically laughing gilfriend and attendees.

I hope this makes you feel better.

40

Ok, I’m telling this story ONLY to make you feel better, Zette. I’m still deeply embarrassed by it.

I was 22 and living in a house w/ 3 roommates. One of them, Clint, worked with me. I had just found a new job, so on my last day at work all my co-workers took me out drinking and Clint stayed sober so that he could drive me home. Every time I turned around, someone was handing me a shot of Southern Comfort (that was my drink of choice at the time). I lost count after 13 shots in the first hour. The rest of the night is a blur, until the ride home.

In the car, I was riding shotgun and Clint’s friend was sitting behind me.A couple of minutes before we got home,I made Clint stop at a White Hen Pantry (a convenience store, for those that don’t know) so that I could buy some Gatorade, because I was convinced that I was going to have a horrible hangover the next day. I also had to pee really badly, so I asked both of the guys if they’d just go in and buy the Gatorade for me , but Clint’s response was essentially, “We’ve been taking care of your drunk ass all night. Do it yourself.”

So, I went into the White Hen, grabbed some Gatorade out of the cooler, and got into the line. The guy in front of me was yapping with the cashier, on and on and on, while I hopped from one foot to the other with increasing urgency. It was all I could do to concentrate on holding it. The guy in front of me finally left, and I handed the cashier some random amount of money and kept concentrating. I was doing fine until she counted my change back to me. When I paid attention to the money she was handing me, I STOPPED paying attention to my bladder and I gradually became aware that I was peeing in my pants. In my drunken stupor, I decided that the best thing to do was just finish and act like nothing was going on. I’m sure no one noticed the fact that my jeans turned from light to dark blue, or the puddle underneath me… So I just took my money, grabbed my stuff, and walked out, head held high.

Did I mention that the cash register is right in front of a huge window, so that my friends in the car could watch me wet myself? When I got to the car, I sat down and said, “Well, I just wet my pants,” and Clint just looked at me and shook his head. He said, “You know, we saw that, and Glen said you peed yourself but I defended you. I said you probably spilled something, you sloppy drunk.”

They tormented me the rest of the ride home, but then we walked in the front door and I decided I HAD to take my wet clothes off, in the living room (at the opposite end of the house from my bedroom) and walked naked to my room to find something to wear - oblivious to our other two roommates that were just sitting there, staring.

Eventually I passed out, but when I woke up the next day we had a house full of people (ours was the party house of our group of friends) all smirking at me. For months afterwards if I mentioned that I was going to the bathroom, people offered me rides to the White Hen.