In first grade I was friends with a girl that we will call Candice. First grade. We went to the same school pretty much for the next nine years and never spoke to each other. I’d see her in passing and would hear random bits about her, but that’s it. One night when I was a sophomore in high school the phone rang. My dad answered, “who? Candice? Micah, it’s for you. It’s someone named Candice White.” My dad smiled at me in a sort of wink wink way. I wondered why on earth Candice White would be calling me. She had become popular and was in a serious/crazy relationship with a guy in the very popular jock crowd and only just recovering from another crazy/serious relationship with another guy just like him. Everyone knew about it. I took the phone anyway, held my breath and answered. “Ummm…hi?”
“Hey, Micah,” she said with a way too excited peppy voice.
“Hi.”
“Do you know who this is?”
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to talk.”
“Ummm…ok. Why are you calling me?”
“I was just thinking that we should start talking.”
“Ok…”
Realizing this was some strange attempt at asking me out, I went on to explain to her that I was intentionally not dating anyone and not going to. I had my heart set on Beth the Other Admin already. She responded with a few more sentences about how we should talk more. We never talked. We should just say “hey” and stuff in the hallways at school. Whatever. I said, “Ok…I guess.” The awkwardness continued for a month or two after this. We would see each other in the halls at school and say “hey” or “hi.” I tried to smile, but it was always a little creepy, and I was always slightly afraid of her two angry yet very cool jock boyfriends.
Micah the Admin
Years ago my husband’s grandmother died suddenly. We drove the eight hours from Texas to Florida where the funeral would be held with Micah’s brother and his wife. To save on money we all decided to spend the two nights with “Patricia,” a nice woman who was related to them somehow. We arrived at the house late at night. It was very big and in a posh neighborhood. The first thing I noticed was the enormous Christmas tree, fully decorated, in the living room. It was the end of April. Patricia greeted us and seemed a little out of sorts. Not unusual, I thought, after somebody close had just passed away.
She took us on a tour of the home, showing us the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, all that. She showed us the “Martis Gras” room, a sort of party room with a full bar. All four walls were entirely made up of windows and no curtains, so even the wall connected to the Christmas-tree-living-room was “exposed.” There were party decorations from a month prior all over the floor. Empty cups, busted balloons, confetti, masks, etc. She told us it was the room where the dogs usually slept. There was dog food spilled over on the floor next to a love seat. “That’s weird,” I thought to myself. “Her house is so grand, why is she showing us a messy room?” She showed us the library next. Another enormous Christmas tree was there among the bookshelves, half-decorated. It was in the process of being taken down, but whoever started had given up long ago. ”That is really weird,” I thought. There was a sheetless twin sized blow up mattress on the floor. Huh. And then there was a pretty little couch chair off to the side WITH A HUGE CHANDELIER SITTING ON IT. “Am I in a horror film? This isn’t right.”
And then she showed us upstairs where the bathroom was, the bedrooms, and then she said goodnight and went to her room. Umm… What? We were confused. Where were we supposed to sleep? And then it dawned on us… “I think we’re supposed to sleep in the crazy rooms,” one of us said. There was a single-person blow up mattress. A chair with a chandelier on it. A love seat in the window-room. No blankets, no sheets, no pillows, goodnight! Completely weirded out and exhausted from the day’s drive we each picked a room and tried to make it work. My brother-in-law and his wife got the library. We got the Martis Gras room. Micah slept on the floor on little decorative pillows and I slept on the love seat. I had brought a blanket with us “just in case” and if I hadn’t I don’t know what we would have done. We woke up the next morning and Patricia never acted like anything was weird about the arrangement. All the other guests, however, were mortified when they heard about it. Oh, and it was my birthday. Very memorable.
Beth the Other Admin
My sister had just gone through a traumatic experience and recently come home after being away for a few months. My husband and I wanted to spend some quality time with her. Talk things over, tell her we loved her, stuff like that. We invited only two of our closest friends to join us. We all met at my parents house so we wouldn’t run the risk of running into our other friends and offending them by not having invited them. Well, one of our not-so-close friends, “Lydia,” must have heard my sister was in town and dropped by to see her. She wasn’t someone we saw regularly, and although we liked her just fine, I groaned and wondered how the heck we were going to avoid a tag-a-long. We kept quiet about our lunch date, but Lydia asked my sister what we were up to and there it went. Lydia excitedly invited herself (or rather pushed my sister to invite her) to come with us. ”Well, OK,” I thought. “A lot of effort for nothing, but it’s better not to hurt her feelings.” And we really were broke back then, so we couldn’t afford to do another lunch date for awhile. Oh well. So we go out to eat, the six of us now, not able to have the heart-to-heart we wanted to have.
Then the waitress comes back with the check. ”Will that be separate checks?” We were paying for my sister and one of the two close friends. That was already understood before we left. Lydia looks at us helplessly. ”Don’t you have money” someone asks. “Yes. I have money.” Good. “Ok, so not a problem.” Wrong. “I only have a debit card.” Uh… “So you do have money in your account, right?” Did she want a freebie or what? I had no idea. “Yeah,” she replies, with a tone of exasperation. “But I only have a debit card!” This went back and forth for a little while, till we were all so uncomfortable that my husband finally decided it would be easiest if he paid for her and avoided ever going out to eat with her again. She had a full-time job, no rent, no car insurance or other bills to worry about. We were broke. So weird. And awkward. Ugh.
This happened one more time, but not to us. But we were there. Still awkward.
I went to a 5 day / 4 night Girl Scouts (Girl Guides) summer camp when I was 8. All the counselors had nature names like Rocky and Squirrel. (Yes, I remember such trivial details!)
The camp had a swimming pool, so all the girls went for a swimming lesson. I had no idea we were supposed to change in our tents first, but I somehow managed to get my swimsuit on without any of the high-school/college counselor boys seeing. As we picked up our clothes to head back afterwards, one guy asked whose…errrm…underwear was sitting on the rail, in full view of everyone within 100 feet. Yup. I meekly retrieved it and was embarrassed the rest of the day!
Susie – MN
The first time I ever went trick-or-treating was the second year of our marriage. I was so excited. Beth dressed up in an Indian Sari and was beautiful. We also had a girl we babysat who was dressed as a very cute little pirate. I decided that I would be Napoleon Dynamite from the incredibly popular indie film. I thought it was popular. I put on tight tapered jeans, a baggy purple shirt with a neon dolphin, moon boots, a fanny pack, thick Coke-bottle glasses, a digital watch and had my hair gelled up into a curly fro. I looked like Napoleon Dynamite. We were happy and set to go. The three of us piled into our car and began going house to house. I realized after one house that some people hadn’t seen the movie. After two or three houses I began to understand that NO ONE in New Hampshire had seen the movie. Then I started to think about how creepy I must look – like the guy you’d never want to sit beside on a bus. I got weird look after weird look and didn’t even try to explain what I was. I just accepted the fact that people would be slightly disgusted and happy that my wife and our little pirate got smiles and candy. The night eventually ended.
I used to work at a group home for the mentally ill. I was helping a very sweet client in her late 50’s or early 60’s shop. From the way she dressed and carried herself, any observer could tell she was a little “off”. We were standing in line and I was a little ahead of her. She (let’s just call her “Lisa” struck up a conversation with a much younger man behind her. It went approximately like this:
Lisa: Hi! What’s your name?
Man: Hans.
Lisa: I knew a “Hans” once, in the foothills of an Alpine village in Austria. –I haven’t been with a man in 13 years!
Hans (taken aback, but seizing the opportunity): So… is anyone taking care of you now? Is there anyone who would mind if you came home with me?
Lisa: Oh, no! But you see that tall girl in front of us? (I turn around and treat Hans to a knowing, sinister smile). She’d get REALLY mad if I went home with you.
I look him up and down, sneer slightly, and turn away. Hans turns bright red and stares at his shoes, embarrassed to have just been caught trying to pick up and older mentally ill lady.
I loved that job!
Pamela – CA
Oh my goodness, this was actually the most awkward moment, ever, ever. ewwww. Ewww. I was going into work one day late and the place I was apprenticing at the time only had the owner there and two sections to the shop, an office section with a desk and computer and a work section for customers. So I texted emmm….we’ll call him Hubert and said I’d be late. I arrived at 10.30am and walked in, he was sitting with his head on his hand on the computer looking SO bored, I was like hi, hi, how’s it?? and walked on in. On the way past the computer which was angled at me as I walked into the customer section I glanced at the screen and saw that he was just…watching porn. Just sitting there impassively staring at the screen but was frantically clicking at the mouse to try and close the window. I was totally grossed out and thought ok, I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that and stay here for a minute until he clicks that off an then I’m going to just pretend NOTHING happened. He clicks it off and gets up, but is really embarrassed and flustered and in his flustered-ness(word??) he goes ‘Oh, I was just watching porn there, so I was’ ……I was like…..’Uh……ok’ O_O Yeah, I didn’t stay there very long……
Tanya – Belfast
Oh, hahaha, oh my godness I can’t believe I forgot about this one, your shorts post made me remember it for some reason….! When my boyfriend and I started going out we used to stay in one another’s house alternate weekends but we worked different shifts so one Saturday morning he left for work and I stayed at home in bed, later I got up and got in the shower and was just showering away, la-de-da….bit of lemon shower gel, washing my hair, ho hum and I heard the front door open, ok, that’s cool, he’s home already or forgot something or some such thing. So I’m still showering away and I hear someone come up the stairs, potter around the hall a bit and then push the bathroom door open, next thing….(oh I wish so bad I could do the voice because that was the funniest thing about this) I hear HIS DAD going…..’Hulloo-ooh’…I was like…..’What the hell Brian, it’s Tanya….!’(It’s cool we had an opaque shower curtain) and he’s like ‘Oh, is that you dear’(his parents are quite old his dad was in his seventies at the time) …so I’m like ‘Uh…YEAH, IT IS ME… TANYA…. IN THE SHOWER’ …..’Oh, ok then dear’ and disappears…..flip sake, I get out, I can hear them downstairs, I get dried, dressed go downstairs and sitting on the sofa is a pile of the clothes I was wearing the night before I had left in the kitchen to put in the washing machine, all folded in a neat pile, like , my stockings, skirt, underwear etc. and his Mum is in the kitchen doing the dishes. Oh. My. Ground. Swallow. Me. Now. O_O
About four or five years ago my sister asked me to go swimming with her and my nephew, I wasn’t that keen I’m not big on swimming pools and I had no costume but he was so excited and he was only about one or two at the time so I agreed, I was thinking, ok I’ll get a costume the day before. Typical to form I didn’t get a costume and the next morning she came round, I thought I could make excuses and get out of it but she was adamant that I go with her, so we started hoking through my drawers and she pulled out this white patterned string bikini that I had bought for holiday and never worn, I was like NO WAY! but in the house, standing in my clothes somehow it seemed like it would be ok so I packed it up and we set off, it wasn’t until I actually got into the changing room, put it on and went out to the swimming pool that I actually realised how awful it was. Everyone else was in swimsuits and bodysuits and I was standing there ghostly white with a white string bikini on, like I mean across the cleavage was just two triangles so you could see all around each bosom and it was tied around the back with a string and the bottoms were just two small triangles tied at the hips with string….I actually could not have felt worse if I was nude, I mean this is ok if you live in Miami but this is Northern Ireland, people just don’t go to swimming pools in bikinis, but there was nothing to do so I just quickly got in the water, I’m not being paranoid when I say that people were staring, a couple were even embarassedly sniggering and I kept bobbing under the water trying to hide, eventually I was like, I have to get out of here, so I took a deep breath and started climbing out of the water, I had to walk the whole way round the pool to get back to the changing rooms covering my modesty because the bikini had gone a translucent grey colour in the water……to make it the ultimate cringefest there was a man there taking swimming lessons who was a regular in the coffee shop I worked in, he came in EVERY day, the next day I was working he sat at the bench beside my section and I all I could think about was….Oh my, this guy has practically seen me nude….cringe, CRINGE, CRINGE!!!!! :(
When I was 20 something I was driving on Route 66 on the outskirts of Albuquerque. It was late at night and I saw a woman walking along a sparse stretch of the road. I stopped to see if she needed a ride. She was about 50 years old. She was holding something in her right hand but I couldn’t see it very well. She got in and we engaged in some small talk. I agreed to take her home. It was not far off the main road. After a few minutes she showed me what was in her hand. It was a rock about the size of a softball. She said, “You know an Indian woman can kill a man with a rock.” I believed her, but she didn’t kill me.
Nate – NM
The first Valentines my boyfriend and I had togther we were working in the same place. He was my manager. I had spent the whole day banging on about how comercialised it was etc. etc. so he didn’t get me anything until that afternoon when the other girls in work cajoled him into going to the chemist across the road and getting me some gifts. So he came back with a box of make up that I use but in the wrong colour. The next day I go to the chemist to change the makeup, it has a makeup section and there’s a queue of women behind me when I get to the till. I tell the woman at the counter I need to change the colour of the foundation and so on…..she takes the box and with a big smile says loudly, “Oh, yes lovely, I remember that man coming in yesterday….and didn’t he get you perfume as well?” I gave a frozen smile and was like, “um no actually, he didn’t.” She went bright red and became really flustered and quickly changed the foundation while stammering about how she must have it wrong and how busy it was the day before. Embarrassed enough I try to leave when another woman working there shouts from the other counter “Oh Mandy, *chuckle, chuckle* are you getting people in trouble again?!” and has a good laugh with the women in the queue. By this point my anger has reached epic proportions, and I’m storming over to work to confront my poor boyfriend who had to spend a whole day convinceing me he didn’t buy perfume for anyone else with reciept proof and an offer to ring all the numbers in his phone….I felt awful – but it just goes to show how easily you can get someone in trouble with an innocent remark!
The organization I work for has a couple hundred staff plus children and at times fifty or so students. They gather on Sunday evenings for a formal meeting. My wife and I had just returned from a trip to Thailand with two other girls, and we were asked to give a debriefing of our trip. Now, my job IS public speaking – I am a teacher. I am quite capable of impromptu one hour lectures, and I am generally efficient and comfortable doing so. This night I was too confident. We played a video for them, and then I had a brief two to five minute speech to make. It was all worked out in my head until the video stopped, and I looked out into the bright lights and three hundred staring faces. It had to be one of the more populated meetings. My mind went blank. I rattled off a powerful line about the movie and went blank again. I tried another of my planned points. This got me through a stuttering twenty seconds. My mind went blank. I had nothing else to pull from. After staring at the audience, saying, “um” five times, and laughing I turned to my teammates for help. They all shook their heads. They looked more nervous than me. I looked back at the audience and hit them with ten more “um”s and laughs. It felt like this went on for five minutes, but I think it was only two or three. Then I managed to say one last enthusiastic sentence and encourage people to go to Thailand. I walked off the stage trying not to look at anybody. My wife held my hand. That was nice, but it didn’t make it go away. As I write this, I’m actually getting nervous again.
Here I was, getting back into the van, ready to put my head down, when all of a sudden, a huge surge of gas rushed down into my lower intestine. I tensed up, and saved myself from obvious embarrassment. Seconds later, round two of gas surged into my gut. Then quickly came number three, and then number four. My lower intestine was imitating a balloon. I was getting bigger and bigger and bigger.
A few minutes later, somewhere between surge number eight and ten, I let loose a small amount of gas. Quicker than I could think, “I wonder if anyone noticed?” the guy sitting in the seat in front of me cried out, “Oh man! Who farted?!?” I had to humbly admit that it was me. It contaminated the whole van. Everyone got a whiff. So, I had to “put a cork” in it.
I was just about exploding when the van stopped to switch drivers. I had not rested at all. When we stopped, I ran for the nearest toilet. After expulsing two sonic booms, I immediately heard someone in the stall next to me get up, put on his pants, flush, and leave his stall in less than 5 seconds. Relieved, I walked slowly back to the van.
It was my turn to drive. I thought I had eliminated everything, but the gas started surging in me again. This time, I was facing the stress of driving the 15-passenger van through mountain valleys and up and down major hills, having to pass slower drivers. I couldn’t let myself get so big. Never could I put up with driving that way. So, I decided to drive down the gas into the seat, hoping it would absorb the force and the stink.
My nostrils searched for the stench. They found none. I got a little bolder. My seat received surge number two. Still no stink. Going up an uphill curve, my groin got fat, and again I made my seat my victim. Amazingly, I smelled nothing. As I continued to freely pass gas, reality finally hit me. About the fifth or sixth time, I just about died at the wheel because the smell was so bad. And then it suddenly dawned on me – NO ONE was resting, no one was reading, no one listening to music, and no one was chatting with anyone. I looked through the rear-view mirror. They were all looking at me, with angry looks on their faces, especially the girls. Apparently, I smelled nothing those other times because the vent blew the stink into the faces of everybody else sitting behind me. Humiliated, I had to hold it for the next couple of hours of driving.
At the next stop, I let loose my last blast, and outside it still stunk. If you had asked me why I didn’t take anything to eliminate the gas, I would have told you, “I have no idea.” I went into the fast food place, and ate a big burger meal. Surprisingly, my gas stopped. I had no more for the rest of the entire trip. Go figure.
Joe – MD
I own a children’s clothing store. One day a mom kept sniffing around her toddler, and said the obvious thing, “I think you have a poopy diaper.” When she went to check this situation further, she discovered no poop was in the diaper. “Must have just been gas.” My next customer in that area of the store said, “There seems to be some poop or something under this rack.” Yep, there it was! Helpful tip: make sure your kid’s diapers are snug and secure before going out in public, because the alternative makes ME look bad.
Laurel – NH
I walked into the drug store in an especially good mood — so good, I smiled at everyone. No harm could ever come from that, right? When I walked back out to my car a strange man was hovering over my windshield. He was gruff, dirty, wearing too many layers and hadn’t shaved in awhile. He had a friend with him. He looked up at me and smiled really wide. He was missing his front teeth. “Oh good,” he said. “Now I can give this to you in person.” He handed me a note. “I saw you in the store and you smiled at me. You seem really nice. This has my phone number on it. Maybe we can hook up sometime.” Um, how did he know which car was mine?! I swallowed and said, “Oh…Um. Well, I’m married.” Not a problem. “That’s OK! I don’t mind. Call me soon,” and he forced the note in my hand. I think I was supposed to be flattered, but I took a different route home with extra turns, checking my rear view mirror often. Thanks for making my day weird, toothless guy!
