Storytime! Embarrassment Edition
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We are here because obviously we all love to tell stories. So lets do just that. Tell me something embarrassing that happened to you! I know this is closely related to the RL peeves/things I like threads - but these can be of a more comical nature! And because I like to make people laugh, I will get us started. Warning: cringe, gross.
PINK TORNADO: A TRUE STORY
My husband, a good friend of mine, and I went out to eat at Wimpy one day. That's a British burger chain that we have here in South Africa. Think McDonalds, but with a little bit more class.
I had a bacon and avo burger, coke, chips/fries, and a huge bubble gum pink strawberry shake. I have never had a strawberry shake before but either I was feeling cheeky or they didn't have chocolate.
That's important, remember that.
We didn't really know what to do next, but we decided after some maximum pleading by my friend to go down to the beach front where they have a carnival type thing set up. You know the drill. Rides, corn dogs, funnel cakes, games, prizes.
We got our tickets (only a few, enough for like an hour of rides and bullshit max) and we start out with the craziest ride they have. It was fine. Then we went on three more.
They were fine except I was feeling really full still and nothing was sitting right.
Me: "My dudes, I'm not feeling well. I think I'm going to sit the next ride out. I just need to uh stretch my legs or something."
Friend: "For fucks sake, <nycto> we have like four more tickets lets go on one more ride. That's enough for two of us to go on the swings. Just one last one and then we'll go home ok?"
M: "I don't know can't <husbando> go instead?"
Husband: "No I don't want to go I'll stand here." Thanks, husbando.
F: "STOP BEING SO BORING <NYCTO> LIVE A LITTLE YOU'RE SUCH A P****."
Fine.
I'll go. Where are we going? Please, the ride with the shortest line okay? The swings. Absolutely no line. Lets go, <friendo>. Husband goes to stand over /there/ out of the way.
So you know the swings, the giant carousel looking mother fucker with a bunch of swings instead of happy go lucky horses and shit? That one.
So being the only ones in line we are sat across from each other. She's far away, and the pole of the center blocks our view of each other. The guy waits for a few more people of course, but it was sparsely populated and off we go.
It was gentle. The breeze felt great, cooling off the ever increasing sheen of sweat accumulating on my brow. My stomach was still not feeling great though.
Really not great.
Really, really.
Really.
Not super.
Why isn't this fucking ride ending? I have been on this fucking thing for five fucking minutes. Six... I know there is no line but shit this is.. getting less and less fun. Does this guy think he's doing us a favor by making the ride go on and on? Pleaseletitend, pleaseletitend, please please...
"HEY." I try to call out to the operator. "HEY WILL YOU PLEASE STOP."
"STOP THE RIDE PLEASE. HEY."
"The RIDE. STOP."
"HEY."
"HEY."
"PLEASE STO--ablregrablhebluuuuu."
Time slows down. I try to put my head down and hope for the best, but I have to shut my eyes to keep my bubblegum pink vomit from splashing back up into my eyes and I don't have full range of motion of my arms. So I am helpless. So I'm trying to flap my arms for attention.
Like some sort of fucked up flamingo.
I hear a choir of "Ewwww," which thanks to the doppler effect got louder and softer and louder again as I went around and around. When I could finally open my eyes I catch a glimpse of my husband matrix dodging pink puke bullets in the sidelines and the operator desperately trying to get the ride stopped as quickly as possible.
I think I might have blacked out. The next thing I remember is my husband wrapping his arm around my shoulder and lending me his jacket, guiding me away from the swings and past a group of no less than 20 spectators that are covered in bubblegum pink splash.
Their infant is crying. The kid that I hit behind me is crying.
My friend that forced me to go on the stinkin' ride is just fucking /gone/.
While crossing the fair and skate park beside it I clear a radius like a leper. No one stands in our way. No one asks questions. A hush falls over the crowds and all there is, is this dance music that keeps thrumming in my throbbing head. It's somehow haunting, somehow... creepy. If you've ever been in an abandoned amusement park, you know the feeling I'm speaking of.
Since we were at the beach there were showers. I tried my best but ended up abandoning my clothing in the parking lot and riding home in my bra and panties. The stench was unbearable.
At the car we catch up with my friend. Who doesn't talk to me all the way home.
She never invited me to the fair again.
And my husband? He said it looked like a pink tornado.
We don't talk about that day much anymore.
The road to hell is paved with adverbs.
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@nyctophiliac Amazing story, brilliantly told. I'm dyin' over here. Also, omg, I am so sorry!
Oh fucking well.
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@surreality Thank you! I'm glad I made someone laugh!<3
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I love that story! So well told too
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Thank you for sharing. I am so sorry it happened to you but oh god thank you for sharing. LOL.
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When I was a teenager and had begun dating, my mother was very... hands off in the 'be safe' department. She assumed I was having sex, but she very much didn't want to talk about it.
After all, my 'sex talk' was simply her stopping in the room one day, looking at me, and going: 'You know how to find stuff at the library, right?'
Fast forward a number of years and I'm dating and all I've been told is 'If you're having sex, just don't let your father find out.'
So there I am one day, on the computer, minding my own business and my mother comes storming up to me. She is furious.
'You know I don't care what you do but the least you can do is not leave things around where your brothers can find them!'
I am flummoxed. I have no idea what she's talking about. I have less than an idea. This is absolutely out of the blue, even for her and her short fuse.
Suddenly, she slams her hand down on the table and reveals...
what appears to be the world's tiniest condom.
'I found THIS on the floor downstairs. Your BROTHERS were playing with it. I expect you to be more responsible!'
For a minute, I'm stunned. I'm caught between the absurdity of the situation and my utter anxiety from being yelled at. The 'oh holy god what is going on.' But finally the absurdity wins out and I begin laughing.
She's thrown off by the laughing and just demands to know WHY I'm laughing. I get up and walk out of the room with her yelling at my back, demanding to know why I'm walking away.
I return with the first aid kit. Specifically, I return with the box of finger cots from the first aid kit and set them in front of her. And if you've never seen a finger cot, well, they look like tiny condoms.
'Mom, I'd be worried if I was dating someone who needed a condom that small.'
She just stared at them for a moment and stormed off in silence. She didn't speak to me for the rest of the day.
...I suppose this isn't about my embarrassment, but having your mother scream at you about what she assumes is a condom is p horrifying. It was also one of the first times I managed to actually find my voice (as it were) to stand up to her when I was a teenager.
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So I was a junior in college. Dating a really sweet guy. He came with me to visit my parents at some point. The tough thing about bringing your SO home to visit your parents is, of course, how do you do the do. I was like 20 years old, I wasn't gonna NOT do the do.
So Sunday morning was kind of a SAFE BET, because my parents were off at church. Do is done, everything great. He tosses the condom in the trash can in my bedroom just for a second with the intention of, well, taking it out to the big trash can outside so that no one accidentally stumbles on used condoms. Because that'd be awk! We lay down and cuddle and chat for a few minutes. Like, this was a decade ago now, but honestly I thought it was all of 5-10 minutes. We start getting up, getting dressed, etc., and he goes to check the trash can.
The condom is gone.
This is very strange! We have no idea where a used condom could have run off to. No one else is home. Wtf happened??? He searched through the trash, nothing. This was just a bitty bedroom trash can, too, not like a gross big kitchen trash can full of stuff. IT WAS A MYSTERY.
Fast forward a couple weeks. Maybe just a week or two. We're back at school, I'm hanging out in my boyfriend's room. My cell phone rings. It's my mother.
She informs me in a delicate, dry voice that she came across the dog chewing on something. Dog owners will know that feeling of seeing your dog chewing on something you can't quite make out that they don't want you to see, so she of course went over all, "Kayla what did you get this time?" And she found something that I imagine she, who had her tubes tied after I was born and who had a hysterectomy ten or so years ago at that point, had no seen in a good, long time.
Yup. The used condom.
Anyways she told me in a sighing voice that I was lucky she found it and not my father. And requested that I please refrain from getting busy in their house.
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This one is actual embarrassment. This one is 'if I am ever a writer on a television show, it is being written in.'
One of my brothers is 8 years and 2 days younger than I am. This means that the last birthday party I ever had was my 8th. After that, every birthday as a kid/teen was 'we'll sing happy birthday to both of you, but as the elder sibling...'
Anyway, for my... I think it was 12th birthday and his 4th, we had my grandparents and my dad's friend and my dad's friend's kids over. Said friend's kids were a group of boys around my age. I guess my parents thought I'd appreciate this. I guess my parents thought 'teenage girl will like having some teenage boys around.' Mostly they just liked that it was free food, cake, ice cream, and access to the basketball hoop we had in our backyard.
Now, when the cake came out, there were very stern words to KEEP THAT BALL AWAY FROM THE CAKE and I, being the very anxious sort I was, just had a feeling and I'd been stood in the general area between table and where the hoop was. I happened to turn just at the time the ball winged off the hoop and went flying towards the table. I jumped up to try to catch it and there I was... hands in the air just as everyone standing around the cake, now splattered in cake, looks up to see me with a horrified look on my face.
Imagine what it would be in a sitcom and it was exactly like that. Teenage boys scattered.
Me with hands in the air looking like I'd thrown the ball directly into the cake.
My brother in tears.
My other brother (8 at the time) already pointing at me and blaming me for it despite having seen nothing.
My grandfather, parents, father's friend all covered in cake and FURIOUS, all yelling at me at once.Trust me, it didn't help when the 'hot one' of the teenage boys snuck up to sit outside my door an hour later and thank me for taking the fall. I even told him that, y'know, he COULD try coming clean instead. No Disney Channel ending for me.
That moment of standing there, my hands in the air, as the worst possible outcome was laid out before me will be forever etched into my memory, but goddamn if as an adult it isn't just hilarious how picture perfect it is.
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So, once, after high school graduation. I'm still not sure if I want to go to college or not. I have no idea what I want to do. But I know that I need money in the quickness.
This, of course, does not stop me from being, well -- me.
Have a job interview the next day. So where am I? Out drinking with friends for a friend's birthday, naturally. And being young and sort of pretty at the time, and full of booze, a hookup is arranged, as these things happen to go.
It. Was. Terrible. Great person, shining personality. No chemistry. And not even his fault really. It was a combination of inexperience and height differences and about a million other things.
Anyway, we pass out, wake up, realize we've both overslept and are in that just-enough-time-to-get-our-shit-and-run zone. No numbers exchanged. No real intention to on either of our ends.
Get to the interview, sit for a minute.
Yeah. I'm interviewing with this dude.
We both go into his office and just kind of sit awkwardly for a minute before we start in with the very straightforward 'so this is not gonna work, right?' realization, and we both know that we have to make this drag out for some minutes because he has a boss he answers to as well, and we can't just be done. Both of us questioning whether it's been long enough.
In retrospect it was kind of funny, but man, that was two of the most awkward moments of my life, with the same person, in 12 hours. Completely by chance.
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@Roz see now I want to tell my embarrassing caught-having-sex story.
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@SinCerely said in Storytime! Embarrassment Edition:
@Roz see now I want to tell my embarrassing caught-having-sex story.
I think everyone has one of those stories, and they're all fantastic.
Racism isn't Tinkerbell. It doesn't need you to believe in it for it to exist.
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SEX STORY.
So it's the year 1999, I am 18 going on 19 and recently no longer a virgin. This story takes place at my old Community college. There in the drama department there was a series of 'piano rooms' that were locked rooms with pianos and space for people to practice singing etc. They were convenient places for people to um... do things with little clothes.
So my GF at the time and I were very horny people in a new relationship and omg her mouth was something else lemme tell you. So we would frequent these places and I guess we got a little incautious. The first hint was one night some random guy 'thanked us', but the most embarrassing one was that after about 5 minutes of us in there, the hallway filled with about 25 boys and girls of Junior highschool age, getting ready for a pageant.
There was a knocking, then a rapping and then a banging that lead to opening the door to one of our drama teachers and a lot of parents and needless to say we um, fled. She was bright pink, and i couldn't remember how belts worked.
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@Derp said in Storytime! Embarrassment Edition:
@SinCerely said in Storytime! Embarrassment Edition:
@Roz see now I want to tell my embarrassing caught-having-sex story.
I think everyone has one of those stories, and they're all fantastic.
I actually feel like I'm missing out in not having any particularly embarrassing ones. My kid's mom and I lived with her fam for a while, but they didn't really give a shit. We'd get really mildly teased sometimes if we were ever unintentionally overheard but they all had a very nonchalant attitude about sex.
I mean, I guess the most embarrassing thing there was walking into her mom's room once to discover she and her husband had accidentally left their sex swing attached to the ceiling. I had no idea what it was and I asked my ex's sister about it wondering if it was like....I don't even know, a prop for a cast??? To keep a leg elevated???? Like I was worried her mom or step-dad had gotten hurt. And her sister was like, horrified and just basically went, "oh you sweet summer child."
^_______^
(@_____@)
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This didn't happen too long ago but it's pretty cringe-worthy so here's it is - my story.
After many years' worth of staring at screens and sitting in awkward positions my lower back is pretty sensitive. It can take a lot of punishment in some ways but very little in others - for example I can't stand up and still for a long time, although I can run, play sports, etc just fine. As a result I sometimes need to visit an RMT to loosen it up. Thankfully there is a very good massage/physical therapy clinic near my workplace, so I can always pop over my lunch hour or after work.
One December, not that many Decembers ago, I needed a visit again... but as it was near the end of year many people were taking their leftover 'freebie' insurance company-paid massage appointments then, so the clinic's RMTs were all booked up every day.
I figured it was okay, I could just try a different massage place - and you can probably already see where this is going. It's going there.
I Googled for places and reviews and simply picked the highest rated one, since I could really use a massage. However I neglected to do two things: Include the actual "RMT" term as part of my search criteria and I did not actually read the reviews themselves. I just went by the grade - a solid 4.6! Hey, these people must be good, right? So I called, got an appointment and went over.
In my defense it just looked like a regular place, but perhaps I should have been tipped by the receptionist's... shall we say... unusually tight clothing. And yet I am not one to judge! If that's what the lady wanted to wear so be it, right? Right? So she lead me to this room where some things did seem off, and alarms started (too late) to go off in my head, so I started thinking maybe this is a terrible mistake, but I'd committed to the course at that point. Why was there a shower in the room? Why did she quote a number for the full hour half of what the RMT clinic charged? And why was she really, really surprised I wanted to use my card to pay instead of cash? Like... she had to run back to her desk and figure out how the card reader worked.
Yeeeah at this point it looked like mistakes had been made but this was all at noon in a mall between a bunch of corporate buildings. Surely business people did not... like, no way. Surely. I was being paranoid.
So when the massage person finally came she was also dressed in a really, really liberal fashion. So far nothing had gone truly awry, yet in my emerging panic I had no real way of asking - politely - if this is what I signed up for or not. Dammit, how do you even start that conversation?
And then finally (thanks, lady) she asked if I wanted the regular massage or 'the enhanced one'.
Okay, look, at this point I had to ask. I had practically left myself no choice - so I did. "... What's the enhanced one?", which she told me (for the uninformed, the reduced cost was because the tip wasn't included.... please, no puns).
Long story short I came clean, which I'm sure she probably knew as well well before I did. Things stopped there, but I did leave a tip for her time anyway since I was taking her time away from properly paying customers.
Following all this I did need to call my S.O. since, well, that charge on my card might not have looked great in retrospect. She couldn't stop laughing about it then and to this day she's been repeating the story with coworkers and friends with wild impunity.
This is my story. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
- He who takes offense when not intended is a fool. He who takes offense when intended is a greater fool.
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Saying the quiet parts out loud since 1996.
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@Derp See, I don't have a story myself, but my buddy does. We all worked Ren Faire together, and he and his then girlfriend decided to have a good time. Tent walls are thin. When you have a light in the tent on, it creates some interesting shadow shows.
Long story short (too late) the lot of us lined up patio chairs in front of the tent, and held up score cards when they emerged after they were done. He took it in stride and laughed, she was as red as you could get.
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I also don't have a story of my own but.
At a discworld mud meet, in a pub, the barman comes over and tells us two of our lot are shagging in the toilets. When they came upstairs, they got a whole pub standing ovation. It would have been before photos easily went online but I do still have a picture of one of them gesturing his opinion at the camera...
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@Alamias British Fest-style LARPs can be just as entertaining. I too have held a scorecard.
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@Grayson The part I left out about the whole scenario is that the reason there was such a bright light in the tent in the first place, is because they had a third friend in there filming the whole thing.
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@Auspice Look, I'm no master of etiquette. I don't know of a good way to ask someone "uh, so are you offering me sexual favors in exchange for money or are you just dressed like it?". What if I was wrong?!
Also I still didn't get my damn massage which irks me.
