So, this has probably been asked infinite times on the MB, but I need a laugh.
What has been your most embarrassing moment thus far in your life?
I dont want to talk about it.
Aw, c’mon!
No way! It was so traumatic then that I haven’t been able to talk about it since. Not even to a bunch of strangers who could trace me by my IP and other posts I’ve made here. Nosiree! Ain’t a-happenin’.
I wonder how many people are going to start typing up a response, then halfway through, say “nah, I’d better not” and close the window.
Maybe not my most embarrassing, but one that comes to mind: When I was about 8, I found myself riding my new bike on the playground where two girls in my class were playing. Being the young coordinated stud that I was at 8 years of age, I began to show off trying to impress them. I was doing wheelies, bunny hops, and …well just those two things. I got real close to them, did a HUGE wheelie… and my front tire fell off. Yup, ass over tea kettle I went right over the handle bars once gravity did its thing.
Those two girls could not stop laughing at me.
They’re probably still laughing at me some 25 years later. :mad: Stupid Huffy Bandit. Damn THAT BIKE. DAMN THAT BIKE TO HELL!!!
[sub]OK, I’m over it now. Or am I?[/sub]
:dubious:
I’ll tell you mine.
When my youngest child was about 2, I took him to the urgent care down the street. After he saw the doctor and we were about to leave, we went into the bathroom so I could go pee. The bathroom was off of the waiting room, which was filled to capacity. As I’m sitting on the toilet with my pants down to my knees, he opens the door. :eek:
There I am, in the field of vision of three walls full of chairs filled with people. I’m quietly screaming at him to shut the door, and he freaks out and suddenly doesn’t understand English.
I have to GET UP in front of all these people, pull up my underwear and pants, and close the door.
I picked him up and we ran out the front door with me dying inside.
And there you have it, my most embarassing moment.
LOL! Isn’t that always the case with the little ones!
:o
I am so horribly embarassed by this, but I will admit to it anyway.
When I was in grade school I had to take medicine during my lunch period. I had to go to the nurse’s office and drink it with a glass of water. One time I really had to pee, but I figured I could go and get my medicine before I went down to pee. (the office was between the bathrooms and the cafeteria.) Unfortunately, the nurse was uber busy and took a lot of phone calls/talked to a lot of people/etc while I was waiting. I really had to go pee, but I didn’t want to leave, since she had already seen me and I thought she might get mad if I left again. Anyway, so she finally is able to give me the water and as soon as it hits my lips, I wet myself. 
I am so embarassed about it, I don’t know if I will be able to look at this thread again.
um, shouldn’t the OP pony up?
Mine is simple, it's trying to write into this bloody forumn. My spelling sucks, my grammer is even worse & I feel so out-dated.
It's not a joke. I've received a Knight hood yet I have trouble with the written word. I am a precession engineer yet I need a dictionary by my side to spell. well it wasn't that important when I was indentured. I had to learn my craft. I won't use spell check, I use a book. That's my Pride.Let me guess… it was just after that that your friends tagged you “fishbicycle” 
Many horrible things are flashing through my mind, but I finally thought of one I can bear to tell:
One summer when I was about ten years old, Grandma sent me to Vacation Bible School. I was put into a group which consisted of me (a girl) and four or five boys of about the same age. Our teacher decided to have us sing a song for the whole congregation on the last night. She chose “Go Tell It on the Mountain” and had us practice every day, although we repeatedly told her that it was pitched too high for us to sing. On that fateful evening, we got up before the assembly, and the piano player started to play, when shockingly, all the boys were struck dumb! Rather than let our teacher down, I bravely undertook to sing a solo. I squeaked and screeched my way determinedly through the song, s-ss-tr-ai-ning to hit the harder notes, while the boys tried to drill holes in the carpet with their feet. When it was over, the teacher said apologetically to the stunned congregation, “She kind of leads them in everything!” Said the preacher, “She certainly does.”
:o :o :o :o :o :o :o :o
I’ll go with my most recent embarassing moment. About two months ago, I was on the phone with one of my bosses. I was very sleepy and distracted. The conversation came to a close, and without thinking, I blurted “I love you!” Dead silence, then his response: “I’m not quite sure I know how to take that.”
My only excuse is I was tired, half-asleep, and had just gotten off the phone with my husband before calling my boss.
They are still teasing me about it.
Is that a picture of you singing.
When I was much more innocent, my best friends Mother kept one of those tummy shaking ‘fitness’ devices with the belt you wrapped around your abdomen that supposedly shook the fat away. Not knowing what it was called (and I still don’t know) I told my mum about the vibrator that my best friend’s mum kept and used in the garage.
No, this is me singing: :eek:
These are the boys: 
My teacher: :smack:
The preacher: :dubious:
The congregation:
Great stories!
Okay, I have two embarrassing stories that are linked:
When I was 12 I performed in a piano recital – mostly parents and other family members of all the kids who were students of this particular teacher, but it was held in a grand church with a shiny black grand piano, etc . . . rather daunting.
I had a very complex Brahms piece I had worked on for nearly a year and could play forwards, backwards and sideways from memory. So, of course I elected to do my piece from memory (you know what’s coming next.) I clunked up the stairs to the grand piano at the front of the church (just for flavor, this is around 1978, so picture my wooden high heel sandals and GunnySack brand dress, my hair parted down the middle and feathered within an inch of its life.) I plunk down on the bench, raise my hands to begin and . . . can’t remember the first notes of the piece. I tried out a few random notes, but my memory wouldn’t kick in. I then sat motionless for about three minutes (crickets chirrupping) until my piano teacher clunked her way up to the dais to help. She literally had to take my hands and place them on the correct opening notes. I did make it through the piece – badly – with my cheeks aflame and sweat befouling my beloved dress.
Fast forward to senior year in high school, 1984
School talent assembly: I’m playing keyboards to accompany my friend who is singing that sappy theme song from the movie “Arthur” (Time, I’ve been passing time watching trains go by.) Same thing – I have the music memorized cold, don’t even bring the score to the stage. This time not only do I freeze and am unable to find the beginning notes, but there is no one there to put my fingers on the right keys. I plonk out a few weird, sour notes then my fleeing instinct kicks in: I turn to run from the stage, become enmeshed with the keyboard stand and knock it, the microphone stand and my friend down – picture a wild animal desperate to escape a cage and trampling everything in sight. I ran out of the school auditorium all the way home to my bedroom and wouldn’t answer any calls for several days.
Needles to say, though my younger self entertained thoughts of becoming a concert pianist, I’ve been much more successful as a professor who always, always, always, always brings lecture notes!
I think my most embarassing moment was the time my coworkers managed to tape a picture of an erect penis over my face on my company ID badge.
And I put it on and wore it all morning, not noticing.
And the afore-said coworkers contacted the HR secretary (who was most assuredly not in on the joke) and asked her to call me down to HR because “zut has something wrong with his ID badge.”
And, of course, there were the comments for weeks after. “You sure look different without your glasses.” “You take a terrible picture – your eyes are always closed.” “I didn’t notice you were going bald so early.”
Yup, that was embarassing.
I’ve of course got a couple. Let’s see how many I can remember/want to tell.
I was about 7-8 years old, and had a really mean gym teacher (I never met a ncie one). Anyway, I was painfully shy back then, and he was making us do calisthenics. Well, I had to go pee, but I was too scared to just say it, so I kept raising my hand, but we’re doing calisthenics, so he doesn’t know I’m raising my hand and not excersing.
So I peed all over the gym floor. My mom had to bring me fresh pants. Ugh.
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I moved to Tennessee with my parents when I was 12. It was extremely racist, and I only had two friends. One was white, so he was really important becaus even I sensed that he was my key to them seeing me for who I was and not my color. he asked me one day, “Do you like Salt & Peppa?” (the band), and i gave him a funny look and said, “Yeah I like it on my omelettes sometimes.”
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While I was swimming - again when I was around 8 - I thought my nose was running a little, and so I wiped it. One of the other girls looked at me and said, very calmly, “You have a big bloody bugger on your face.” Mortified, (again remember how shy I was) I ran for the bathroom, and, indeed, there was about a 7-inch long bloody bugger stretching across my face. I couldn’t feel it because my face was wet! I nearly threw up. To this day I still feel sick thinking of it.
I’m sure I can think of more in my adult years. I’ll try and thing of more.
Gee, thanks Jennshark for starting this thread and reminding me of a horrifying incident from the not-so-distant past…
I was working for a fairly hoity-toity company whose beautifully appointed offices were on the tenth floor, overlooking the intercostal waterway. The hoity-toity conference room was completely enclosed by glass walls, and was right next to the receptionist’s desk (all the better to summon the slaves to fetch things, make calls, etc.).
I was covering for the receptionist and trying to get a very important document package out at the same time. This necessitated me running back and forth between the copier in another room behind the reception area, and the phone which rang intermittently.
I had just finished the copies and fastened the top with one of those black and silver binder clips when the phones went nuts. Hastily, I grabbed up my package and ran for the phone.
As I set the package down, the binder clip snagged in the ring of the zipper of the jacket (that I was wearing as a blouse that day, BTW), causing said jacket to fly completely open. Unfortunately for me my boss was having a meeting with some very hoity-toity clients in the glass conference room, and everyone got an eyeful of my rather ample bosom in a low cut black lace bra.
Ain’t no saving that one…I was completely mortified.
Anaamika: It would seem ‘bugger’ has a quite different meaning where you are to what it does where I am!?!