You tried to jump start someone else’s car with a Geo? Boy, that is embarrassing.
When I was a teenager, I had a thing for free-hand rock climbing. There was a cliff at the edge of my town that went into a park/reservation that was perfect for it too. Summers before I had to get summer jobs, I used to delight in climbing the 400 foot rock face as many different (and difficult) ways as I could think of. Thinking back, I must have been INSANE. But I digress.
One rainy Sunday, when I was bored with church because the sermon was the same as last year (Catholicism can be that way, must speak to Pope) I decided to ditch the rest of the mass and go rock climbing. In the rain. (you can see this coming, can’t you?)
Well, since i knew everything at 14, I decided to try the Harder rock face where…I got trapped. Half way up. The hand holds weren’t happening going up…and it was a slippery ass way down. So I decided to head back down, back to rock. I slipped and landed on a ledge…and here’s where it gets cruel. No, it couldn’t possibly be a flat ledge…this one had a little ‘protrusion’. It was sharp enough to cut through my jeans pocket, through the tiny little leather faux wallet, through the inside of the jeans pocket, through the Fruit of the looms, and about two inches wide by a half inch deep into my left butt cheek.
I made it the rest of the way down and walked home (my jeans were sticking to me too) made it to the house before my parents got out of mass, and stripped in the upstairs bathroom. I cleaned the cut using the mirror, jammed the area with gauze and cotton balls, and taped it all together with masking tape around my leg. It stopped bleeding eventually and healed into a nice reminder scar (which later gf’s would ask me about).
But if we really Must talk about bodily functions, then I should tell you about the time in my 20s when I went FHRCing and fell…breaking both of my arms (two elbows & one wrist). Sure it was fun walking about with two huge casts after, swinging my arms like Robocop. But then, have you never wondered how Painful it would be to wipe your ass with Two Boken Arms???
In context, I think this one wins. Vet school? Hee hee hee. . .
Presented for your consideration three tales, of awkwardness, embarrassment and humiliation:
I.
My grandparents took me to the Indianapolis zoo one summer day when I was about 5 years old. This was many years ago, when some animals were kept in iron-barred cages elevated a few feet from the sidewalk such that you could walk all the way around them.
When we came upon the male lion I desperately wanted to hear him roar a mighty roar, a la Disney. He was walking in circles in his cage, behind the velvet ropes. So I stood in front of the lion, admonishing him with my pipsqueek voice “Rooooar! Roooooar! Rooooooar!”.
My grandparents and the other adults found this cute; I was a very petite child but nonetheless quite loud. “Rrrooooooar! Rrrrooooooar! Rrrrrooooooooooar”.
Of course the lion ignored my request. Then when he’d had enough of my racket he turned and shot a spray of urine at me. Actually my face. Technically my mouth. A giant mouthful of lion pee. That was when I found out piss is warm.
II.
Our sixth grade social studies class was so much fun - for every period we covered, we’d do reports, create props, wear costumes. For the Middle Ages we’d built castles out of cardboard boxes. The Roman costume seemed likely to be the easiest one - just drape a sheet, right?
Mom managed to arrange the sheet correctly at home, using various diaper pins she’d found somewhere. I was standing there as she did it and it only took 10 minutes.
Somehow in the school bathroom things didn’t line up as planned. I shifted and pinned and twisted and pulled for 45 minutes trying to assemble the thing. Finally the teacher sent someone to get me out of the bathroom, it was my turn to speak, no more delays.
Standing in front of the class, giving my talk, and trying through gentle tugs to pull my costume into place, I realized that if I moved wrong the whole thing would fall off. I hadn’t thought to wear a t-shirt underneath. The only thing I was wearing besides a sheet was my underwear. So I did a shuffling micro-step towards a chair that happened to be at the front of the room, clinging to my costume as I continued my talk. I finished speaking while sitting in the chair, determined not to move and wanting desperately to leave that classroom. So I just started scooting towards the door, propelling myself across the linoleum floor with my feet, clinging to the sheet with both hands. I can picture all my classmates’ faces as they turned to watch me go, sheet and chair and all.
III.
A couple of summers ago we were invited to a dear friend’s family reunion - this is her adopted and assembled family, a group of interesting people were were looking forward to meeting.
We met everyone on the porch, a lovely summer day, lots of beer and pop, swapping stories. Sitting next to Hubby I let my hand lie on his shorts. And as we chatted I noticed his shorts were really soft. In fact, deliciously soft - as we talked I explored the lovely texture with my left hand. Then I noticed our new acquaintance giving me a funny look and I looked over to see that, while I thought I’d had my hand on my husband’s leg, it was in fact right on the middle of his crotch. Because of the ripples in the fabric Hubby hadn’t felt a thing, but to our friend’s friends it had looked like a public hand job!
LOL
My most embarrassing story…hmm. Okie.
One night, shortly after moving into the Apt From Hell, CG and I decide to go out and try this new ice cream place that was just opened in the strip center across from the AFH called Maggie Moo’s. They had an attractive and interesting selection of ice cream flavors, including CG’s favorite Butter (made with real Land-o-Lakes!) and a bright neon blue Cotton Candy, which I tried because I thought, “Well, I like cotton candy. This might be good.” And it was good…very good. Only my intestinal tract liked it less than I did. Two hours later, as we were attempting to get some sleep, I woke up and waddled quickly to the bathroom. I knew something was about to happen and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
As soon as I sit down, I begin to simulteanously (sp??) blow chunks AND have a really bad case of the squats. The blue dye from the ice cream was coming out both ends and so I ended up spraying the bathroom with neon blue all over the place. When CG saw me attempting to lean over and puke in the bathtub whilst sitting on the toilet, he started laughing. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. My own husband…laughing at my misfortune.
IDBB
What a great thread! 
How can I resist telling my story?
This still makes me red in the face every time I think of it…
It was many years ago, and my GF of the time (we are now married) visited a good friend’s ramshackle cottage for a country party. There were at least twenty people there, boys and girls, but as a receintly going steady couple we scored one of the upstairs bedrooms to ourselves.
Now, this cottage had zero insulation, and a whisper upstairs could easily be heard downstairs. Needless to say, that night we were determined to have sex, but quietly - very quietly …
So there we were, rocking rhythmicly (but quietly) away. Little did we know that the bed was as ramshackle as the rest of the place … just as the rocking got a little faster, towards the end, suddenly … the bed collapsed with a mighty BANG! on the hardwood floor!
To be greeted by laughter and a round of applause from everyone, who had of course been listening in. :o
One for me, one for my mother, and one for Jim:
Me: In fourth grade I was chewing on a pen and it exploded in my mouth. Easy fix right, just wait till after class and spit it out. Well it was one of those days when the class was reading from a text book, one student at a time, each taking a paragraph, up and down the rows. While I watched the clock intensely hoping the bell would ring before it was my turn to read my mouth slowly filled with saliva and mixed with the ink. I didn’t want to swallow it for fear of ink poisoning. Too late! When it was my turn I attempted to read aloud while holding the ink/spit in the bottom of my mouth. Instead I babbled the first couple words messily with the ink/spit erupting and running down my mouth and chin making a huge mess attracting everyone’s attention.
Mom: Never one to hurt a fly or anyone’s feelings for that matter my mother took myself and my younger brother to the park when we were young. We walked down the heavily wooded trails where my brother and I liked to run ahead out of sight of my mother and she’d yell things like “don’t fall into the quicksand!” just for fun. One particular time my brother and I got ahead where we were passing an obese couple walking the other way. As we passed them we heard my mother shout “look out for the elephants!” My brother and I just froze and waited for them to pass. As the couple passed out of our sight and into the sight of my mother she then yelled out “and the lions and tigers too!”.
We waited for her to catch up to us where when she arrived she had tears streaming down her face because she felt so terrible.
Jim: During lunch hour myself and buddy Jim liked to go into Barnes and Noble while it was dead and read magazines. Jim had his face in a cycle magazine and I snuck down to the other end of the rack. I was startled by some comotion and when I looked up Jim was apologizing to and older woman who was walking away with a disgusted look on her face. He then approached me quickly with a beet red face, grabbed my arm, and said “we have to leave now”. Upon getting outside Jim said he thought I was still next to him and decided to do the “guy joke” thing and walk backwards into me, backing me into a corner, and then farting on me. He said he was terrified when in mid chuckle he looked up and saw me at the other end of the rack.
I’ve posted about this on the board before…
There was one day when I was in Gr. 8 and I didn’t know that my period was imminent. (hey, it was still new to me at the time) During lunch, I suddenly realized that it had started… being stupid as I was, I hadn’t thought to bring any emergency reinforcements to stash in my locker. (and of course, I had to be wearing yellow pants)
Eventually, it seemed like half the school was around my locker area, pointing and layghing at me. One girl named Any White had some mercy on me… calling the counsellor to see what she could do. I got out of school a little earlier that day, and remarkably enough… my mom wasn’t mad at me like I thought she’d be.
F_X
I meant to say that the girl’s name was Amy White, of course. :smack:
F_X
When I was in college, we were celebrating the upcoming graduation of several friends, and were sitting around a bar drinking beer and talking about the upcoming movie we were going to make that involved everyone playing a silly role. Of course, someone asked me my role, and just as I opened my mouth, ALL the noise in the place ceased and I announced loudly to the pin-droppingly silent room, “I’m the town prostitute!”
DING DING auntie em, please select your prize from the top shelf. Hampshire, very close. Very close with the B&n Story…but no fluids involved. Better luck next time.
I was 6 years old, bored and alone in the den, when I decided to ball up a Trident gum wrapper and ram it into my nostril.
How far would it go? Could I get it out again? Once retrieved, could I jam it up the other nostril? This went on for some time.
Now. Go forward three or so years. I’m in the operating room, loopy on drugs and getting ready for another round in the My Face Is A Big Mess Olympics, when I recall that day’s festivities in the den. Where had that wrapper gone, anyway? Could I have left it in a nostril? If so, my surgeon might come across it. Better let him know all about it. Heck, better let all the nurses know, too.
And so I let them in on Secret of the Trident Wrapper. Did they ever find it? Only the pathologist knows for sure.