When I was a teenager my sister walked in on me and my husband having really loud sex
I’m not sure who was more embarrassed, but I was attending some young author’s conference back in elementary school. I walked into the bathroom and saw that both stalls were closed. I did the whole “casual walk by and peek through the corner and see if someone’s sitting there” maneuver, and couldn’t really make out anything. Then I tried knocking on the stall door, and nobody answered. So I tried to open it, but it was locked. I knocked again, a bit louder, and even threw in a, “Hello?” But nobody answered. I had to go pretty badly, so somehow I reasoned that a person obviously had gone to the bathroom earlier and exited under the stall door. I figured, hey, if they can do it, so can I, so I kinda squirmed under the door… and saw a pair of shoes connected to a pair of legs connected to… well… the occupant finally said something, and I bolted and held it through the rest of the seminar (fortunately, it was near the end).
Worst thing I saw somebody do…
I was in my freshman engineering lecture. It was a pretty large class (100+), and it was just as the lecture was starting so there wasn’t much noise. All of a sudden I hear this horrible coughing/vomiting noise, so I look to my right and I see some poor soul spewing all over the even less fortunate people in front of him. I’ve never seen such range or spread in my life. Even worse, the rows were pretty steeply angled so it didn’t just hit the student’s backs, but their hair and the backs of their necks and down their shirts and… wow. I didn’t see the guy come back to another lecture after that.
Audiobottle
When I was about 12, my English teacher would occasionally ask a random student to read aloud a chapter from whatever book the class was reading at the time. When it was my turn, my friend sitting beside me proceeded to whisper random words like “fish”, “cat” and “donkey” into my ear, quietly enough so that only I could hear them. He kept this up for the duration of my reading. It completely messed up my concentration and resulted in me sounding like a gibbering, stuttering, idiot who couldn’t read, had concentration problems, and periodically added random animal names into completely unrelated passages. (E.g. “O… Onc… Once upon… a time, fish, t… there”).
After a few minutes, the teacher kindly suggested someone else took over and invited me to attend some extra “catch up” lessons after school. As you can imagine, this was much to the amusement of all in the room except me. At the “catch up” lesson I explained to the teacher what had happened and demonstrated I really could read, but that still didn’t stop my classmates asking how “special school” was going for the remainder of the year.
I got my own back on my friend a few days later, however, by betting him a Snickers bar he couldn’t recite the national anthem in a Scooby Doo voice just as I saw a girl he really liked coming around the corner.
I’m sure I’ve had plenty of these moments, but my subconscious has apparently chosen to black them out of my memory…
I do vaguely remember in the distant past being in a store with my aunt. I was probably in the 3 to 4 range. I was either chewing gum, or eating candy, and I bit the very tip of my tongue. There was a small area that was instantly swollen, and I remember thinking that I must have bit a taste-bud. (I was too young to understand what a taste-bud was, I just knew they were on my tongue).
Anyway, I tried to tell my aunt what had happened, but I couldn’t remember the word “taste-bud”. By this time, we had reached the checkout, and I was racking my little brain for body part words that started with “T”. Finally, convinced that I had remembered the correct word, I announced to my aunt, “I think I just bit my testicle!” :smack: It took a fair bit of talking before she understood that I had meant “taste-bud”. She then explained that I bit my tongue, not a taste-bud. She also suggested I ask my parents for a refresher on the meaning of “testicle”.
Mark
Here’s one that has no sex or bodily fluids at all:
When I was a little kid, my parents liked to take us to museum exhibits and suchlike, and I tended to wander off and get lost. So one time we went to this museum exhibit consisting of artifacts from the time of Alexander the Great. The exhibit was titled “The Search for Alexander”. Naturally, I proceded to get lost.
Did I mention that my real first name is Alexander?
So my mom had to go wandering through “The Search for Alexander” saying “Alexander? Alexander?”
Well, I can’t top most of these. I’ve gone bodysurfing on concrete (tried running down a hill to save time, it was wet and steep, I hit the bottom, my feet stopped but the rest of my body didn’t), and I’ve lit off a (for all intents and purposes) flamethrower in my face (trying to see if it was working–it was, although not well).
Also, back when I was four, I apparently used to hide under racks of clothes and jump out at people as they walked through the mall. But that wasn’t embarassing to me.
This is kinda embarrassing, but it was more funny for me. Once when I was about 11, I was at the movie theatres and all of a sudden I had to throw up really bad, so I took off towards the bathroom. I almost made it to the toilet but I couldn’t make it and I spewed all over the bathroom floor. I mean, ALL OVER the floor. Thats not too bad, but then this little kid came running in, playing around. All of a sudden, his dad screams “Watch out!” and the poor little ankle-biter slipped on my vomit and hit his head on the tile floor. I’m not sure if he was hurt, but I casually strutted out of the bathroom trying not to be embarrassed. I wasn’t feeling too good and I was quite dizzy, so I walked back to the room where the movie was playing. I looked desperately for my movie but when I came out of the hall realizing the movie was in the other hall, at the first theatre, of course, was the kid and his father :smack: ! I held back laughter as the kid had puke covering the side of his face and all up in his hair. His dad said “My son slipped on barf in the bathroom!” Thats all that I hears but then I went back into the theatre and finished the movie, chuckling the whole time.
I have two.
At my first real research job in college, I worked with a professor, and a wonderful lady (with whom I’m still friends) was my direct supervisor. She had been with her partner for years and they were very happy together. A couple weeks into the job, I was talking with another friend there about the CD I had gotten for my birthday. He mentioned that my supervisor had given him a copy of that CD recently, a fact which I stored away for future conversations. A couple days later (when I swear there were a dozen people in the lab), I piped up to my supervisor, “Hey, I heard you like Bare Naked Ladies.” I was halfway through my next sentence and gasped when I realized what I said. I continued the conversation as best as I could, but she had the most mortified look on her face for a couple seconds until she realized I was talking about the music, not about her sexual preference. I didn’t hear the end of that one for a couple years.
The second was just last week. I was camping with a friend, having a few (okay, more than a few) beers, when I excused myself to go to the restroom. Well, it was just a couple hours after we settled into our campsite, so I was a little unsure finding the restroom in the dark through the woods, especially being a little tipsy. I found it, walked in, and saw a man turn around from the sink, brushing his teeth. I was halfway through saying “Oh, I’m sorry, I must be in the wrong rest…” when I realized it wasn’t a man, it was a rather tall woman with very short hair and plain features wearing a lumberjack shirt. I was too mortified to even try to finish my sentence with something to cover my mistake, and just ducked into a stall and acted particularly friendly on my way out. Eeps!
Both completely mortifying experiences.
Meeker, don’t worry about the woman in the restroom. I have that happen to me all the time: at least once a month I’ll be on my way out of a public restroom, and some guy on the way in will take a look at my soft-angled, smooth-shaven, long-haired self, do a double-take, and back out of the restroom posthaste. He’ll then look at the “Men” sign on the restroom’s door, open the door back up, and glare at me uncertainly.
I generally say, “HOW’S IT GOIN?” in my best basso profundo to the poor guy. It’s better than unzipping my fly, which is what I’m sometimes tempted to do.
My best embarassing moment? Probably in the fourth grade, when my older sister won some award. I was in the little group of violinists that played a short number before the awards ceremony, and I was over on stage right with the other musicians.
We played our piece, and then I watched as, one by one, the award winners were called on stage and presented with their award.
At some point in the precedings, I noticed waving coming from the front row of the auditorium. It was my parents, motioning frantically at me. I looked around, and the other violinists were gone: I’d not noticed them leave the stage.
So in the middle of the ceremony, clutching my violin, I dashed across the stage to the safety of the wings. The MC stopped as I ran by, and the audience erupted in laughter.
At least I wasn’t naked.
Daniel
So in eigth grade I had an enormous crush on this boy Nathan. He was sweet, he was wonderful, he was the love of my 12 year old life. I also had (still have) long flowing light brown hair. My mother had just gotten a job about 45 minutes away, and we’d gotten kicked out of the house we were renting. (Not our fault, nasty landlords.) I knew I would be moving and changing schools. On the last day I was going to BJHS, just before I left, I gave him a note with a braid of my hair in it confessing my undying love. Unfortunately, I had failed to leave the correct forwarding address with any of my friends. No contact for months.
Maybe a year later, I happen to see a friend from my old school. I say hi, by this time having the good grace to be mortified my the whole hair incident. She informs me that upon Nathan opening the note, Kris and another boy both grabbed the small braid, causing it to explode into a fine layer of hair all over Nathan’s lunch. Deeper mortification follows.
Little do I know, this incident is far from over. Years later, my junior year of high school, there is a local student exchange program. (I only moved 45 minutes away, remember?) I walk into my US History class, and who is sitting in the seat in front of mine? Nathan. Whom I have not seen or spoken to since leaving him the note. Well, I’m sitting right behind him, he might not turn around, right? It’s been four years, he might not recognize me, right? Halfway through class, Harmony asks me why I’m acting so strangely. I’m trying to hide my face from Nathan, who isn’t even facing me. Upon hearing her question, he turns around and recognizes me. We talk, catch up a little. No mention is made of the braid. Possibly the worst part was explaining to my friends after class why I turned bright red as soon as he realized who I was.
Amazing how one thing can provide so many years of embarrasment…
All these stories relating to teenage years - tsk!
I once asked this woman from the HR dept. at work when she was “due.” She replied, “I’m not pregnant, I’m just getting fat.”
I was 32.
Afterwards, noted to self: NEVER ask a woman if she is pregnant. Even if she’s 8mos. Let HER say it first!
–pinks
As a teenager, alone with my girlfriend at her parents’ house. Nature takes its course…
Later in the bathroom cleaning up. Condom is is removed, wrapped in tissue ready for the bin, but, for some reason I’ve never quite fathomed, is left on the sink (of all places).
Girlfriend’s sister returns home with her boyfriend. Everyone’s chatting in the lounge and then sister gets up to go to the bathroom. Door closes, and then I realise that it’s still there, on the basin!! I couldn’t look them in the eye for weeks!
I have another embarrassing moment…
When I was in the fifth grade, my sister and I ran against each other for class president (yeah, I know, we were nerds). Anyway, the day comes that we had to do our speeches in front of the fifth grade classes. Wouldn’t you know, I realized I had left my notes at home right when it was time to stand up and speak.
I’m a horrible off-the-cuff speaker, and I was even worse back then. There I am, standing in front of all these people, going “um…Vote for me…um…because…I will be your…best friend…and…I’ll make everybody happy…and…stuff like that…” Everyone looks at me like I’m a freakin loser (which I was). Then my sister stands up and gives the most eloquent speech in the world. When we get back to class, everyone laughs at me. The teacher does her best to defend me, but the damage is done. When I got home that day I cried so much it wasn’t funny.
And guess who won the election? Not the blubbering idiot, that’s for sure.