I came out of the grocery store after about an hours worth of shopping. As I approached my car I could hear music coming from the vicinity of my car. It was a very confusing few seconds until I realized it was my car radio! My car was running the whole time I was shopping.
Long ago I was attending a professional seminar in Orlando. Between lectures a sponsor provided dinner for attendees in a conference room adjacent to the lecture hall. My wife and I sat at a table across from a lone woman. We introduced ourselves and exchanged pleasantries.
[Chit chat]
Woman:* “My husband is the featured speaker after dinner.”
*
Wife: “Oh, where is he?”
Woman: “He’s back at our hotel getting dressed. He’s very persnickety about his attire. He’ll be here soon.”
[More chit chat]
The woman ordered a salad, entree and glass of merlot for her husband, which was waiting for him when he arrived ~10 minutes later. He was nattily attired in Florida casual: pastel sport jacket, white pants, etc. He sat next to his wife, direcly across from me.
Me: *“I’m Tibby and this is my wife, Mrs. Tibby. Nice to meet you.” *
Man: “Nice to meet you, t—AHHHH!!!” [As I extended my hand across the table to shake his, I toppled his glass of merlot onto the crotch of his pants. He shot up aghast and it looked like a very large, purple pee stain. He didn’t have enough time to go back to his hotel and change before his lecture (no podium to hide behind, either) and he was not amused about the situation.
One time I pulled up at a Bojangle’s drive-through. When I got up to the window, I noticed a bird dropping on my windshield and turned on the washer & wipers. The girl at the window screamed “Hey man!” and jumped back. I had no idea what she was upset about until 10 seconds later, when I realized the wipers were throwing fluid all over her.
[off topic]
God I miss Bojangles…
[off topic]
I’ve done this a few times with my new car. It has a push button start/stop and runs very quietly so I haven’t noticed that it’s on when I lock up and leave. One night it ran for about an hour in my driveway; I only noticed because I took the garbage to the curb and heard the radio playing. Now I have a pilot’s checklist: lights off/mirrors folded/sunroof closed/OFF button poked!
I’ve driven with keys for so many decades I’m having to retrain myself. Of course, now I get in my older car and sit there with the keys in my pocket and look for the “On” button 
So when I was in fourth grade I was at a friend’s house playing truth or dare with my friend, her sister, and her sister’s best friend, Grace. We were all in her bedroom. For the purposes of this story I guess it’s important to mention I was an early developer. I was probably a C cup by this time.
I chose dare, which is something I almost never do.
So my friend says, ‘‘I dare you to take off your shirt and sing the Twelve Days of Christmas.’’ (good god, children are ridiculous.)
So, we were just among girlfriends, this is silly but not particularly daunting for a dare. I proceed to take off my shirt and sing, ‘‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’’
Right around the fourth day of Christmas, Grace decides it would be hilarious to run across the room and throw the door open… just as my friend’s father is breezing down the hall toward us, looks up and sees me belting out a Christmas song wearing nothing but a brassiere.
Chaos ensues. I die.
Later that night, we’re all sitting at the dinner table with her parents. My friend, in a voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone, starts singing, ''On the fourth day of Christmas, my – AUGHH! GRACEY SHUT THE DOOR!"
In retrospect, she was a little bit evil.
ETA: OMG I forgot the worst part of that story. I blocked it out. The moment my friend’s father saw me, he yelled, ''I see someone in a brasierre!"
My parents are very frugal so growing up when we went out to eat, we kids would get an entree and a glass of milk. “We have ice cream at home.” I knew nothing of appetizers or dessert or nice restaurants in general.
So our French class goes to the CIA for a fancy French lunch They bring out the dessert tray (the kind with one sample each) and I was befuddled --what if more than one person wanted the same dessert? Oh well, I guess that’s just the way it is. So someone says, “I’ll have the <whatever>” so I reach for it to hand to them! :smack: The waiter was flustered but I figure, that’s OK, they’re learning how to deal with all manner of customers!
They don’t have Bojangles in Orlando? Or is this a diet thing?
But this is such great “Dear Penthouse” material…
Tibby, I loved that story. I hope you enjoy your date with the real Jennifer!
I had an episode of violent diarrhea sitting in a booth in a restaraunt, ON A DATE. Easily the most embarrassing moment of my life.
When I was single & lived in the midwest, a guy asked me out on a date and took me to a Japanese restaurant (not common in that area at that time). Shortly after we sat down, the waiter brought us each a plate with the steaming rolled up cloth on it to clean your hands. My date picked up his fork and knife and tried to cut it, as I looked at him puzzled. He was not a good sport about it & acted awkward & embarrassed the rest of the evening. He never called me again.
With IBS I’ve had some close calls in my life. One of the most severe instances was when I was hanging out with my would-be husband, at the time we were very good friends and it was kind of a quasi-date, we liked each other but didn’t know it kind of thing. I barely, and I mean barely made it to the bathroom, and ruined my clothes. Fortunately, I had something in there to change into, and he never found out how sick I was. But I was not in an amorous mood at all, to say the least. IBS can be a pretty miserable condition to live with.
Girls sleepover? Truth or Dare? Taking a shirt off? I knew it!
Nope, no Bojangles here. And if there is it’s well-hidden enough for me to never stumble on it. I’m happy enough we’ve finally gotten some Culver’s!
“What else did you two do?”
“Oh, you know, girly stuff.”
“So, uh, flower shows, shopping for pretty bows, then back to her place, strip down to bra and panties for a tickle fight.”
“That’s really what you think girls do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I do.”
In 1989, me and my girlfriend went on vacation to St. Cyprien in South France. We were at a beautiful camping site, near a wide beach and were young and in love. We quickly found a nice pizzeria nearby which we visited almost every second night. Now this was two years after I had left school in which I had learned French for six years, but already then much was forgotten. I struggled by with my French, but when it came to paying after the meal, I couldn’t find the right phrase. But then I had a flash of insight: “bill” is “Rechnung” in English (I’m German and English always was my better foreign language), so “billet” must be “bill” in French. So I proceeded: “Monsieur, le billet s’il-vous-plait”.
It worked, he always brought the bill, but I couldn’t help but suggest a certain smirk on his face sometime.
As we drove home to Germany, I had time to think about some things, and then it suddenly dawned on me that French “billet” doesn’t mean “bill”, but “ticket” :smack:. So I had ordered every evening at the restaurant the ticket like a ticket collector :D.
It does mean “bill” but like in “five-dollar bill”. The word you wanted was l’addition ;).