ArtistInTheAmbulance

Right, whats the most embarrassing thing thats happened to you? Doesnt even have to be you, it could be something that happened to a friend or just a story youve heard...

Ok so Im bored and this seemed like a good idea for a thread

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blackTshirt

well THE SNOWMAN story

here it goes for the 1000th time..

so i was in my 5th grade and it was the Christmas thingy at school. i was the snowman (at first they wanted me to be the wolf but i was too skinny and my voice wasn't scay and all that) so i had to wear a huge white winter coat and had to bring a broomstick (just imagine me walking on the street with a broomstick in my hand) and i had a black hat on my head. and i was a "snowman"... the bad part is that all the kids asked me if i was supposed to be a witch.. i was mad and i had to sing the stupid "i'm a little snowman short and fat" song. AND DANCE on top of it...

stupid and embarrassing. of course, there are more embarrassing moments in my life but this is the only one that i want to make "public"... nah, it's just the one i remember

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ArtistInTheAmbulance

Heh primary school is always full of embarrassing stories... I always remember going into the wrong locker rooms at the swimming pool on our school trip once.. Bearing in mind I was 9 at the time, so it was pretty damn embarrassing. *Sigh* My poor untainted eyes....

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blackTshirt

yeah, school's a nightmare

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Sneer

WELL, there was the time i was jogging down a main road with my mate and i stacked in front a bloody huge traffic jam. then there was the time i was in the school toilets and i thought my mate had followed me in and gone into a cubicle. so i started making funny noises at him. little did i know it wasnt actually him but some random stranger. oh yes, another was me in a supermarket with gran, picked up a tin of beans, saw a lady who had her back to me, thinking it was gran, plonked the beans into the trolley and started talking to her about my loathing for beans......turns out it wasnt my gran. getting ****ted on by a bird is always quite embarrasing too.

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Paul Smeenus

Well, rather than start a new topic on embarrassing shit you've done, I dutifully did a google search and lo and behold, here's this nearly 10 year old thread. Ahem. So.........


As I've previously explained, I've been sober since summer of 1995. I was most decidedly NOT sober in the summer of 1987.

I was with all my drinking buddies that I'd known since the mid '70's. Not too surprisingly, we were all alcoholics (all but 2 of us sobered up in the '90's, the 2 that didn't both eventually died from alcohol-related liver failure, one in 1998, the other in 2004). We had been drinking hard all day, it was time for me to go home. The party was at about SE 20th & Powell in Portland, I lived directly across from Civic Stadium (now JELD-WEN Field) in what is now called the Pearl District. That is one hell of a long walk at about 1 in the morning ( http://tinyurl.com/7zweqtu ) esp. when you're as wasted as I was.

So I've been walking for an hour, I was carrying my bass guitar, and was stumbling mightily. But most of all, I was PISSED. I was PISSED that I had to walk, I was PISSED at the fucking world, and most of all I was PISSED that I wasn't gonna get laid, AGAIN. I was doing a stumbling drunken bellowing pissed-off rant the entire way. I had been walking all this time and was now walking across the Hawthorne Bridge.



If you know Portland, the Hawthorne Bridge is a vertical draw bridge, with the drawspan closer to Downtown. And, as I described earlier, I was pissed at the world. So I'm stumbling and yelling at the world, my bass is really getting heavy, and as I approach the drawspan I see a long diagonally vertical rod iron pipe, painted dayglo tennisball green with black barberpole stripes. It is the barrier that lowers when the drawspan lifts, lest people just walk off the edge of the bridge and plunge 50 feet into the cold filthy Willamette.

I have NO IDEA what got this idea into my alcohol-addled brain, but at that point I decided I was gonna break that fucking pole. I reach up (I'd guestimate that the pole, at about an eleven o'clock angle, towered about nine feet above the sidewalk) and grab the pole and pull down with all my might (which was considerable, I was extremely buff in 1987, you wouldn't ever guess that seeing me now). I'm giving it everything I have, but I'd failed to notice that, at the base of this heavy, rod iron pipe, was a breakaway spring. So I'm putting every ounce of strength I have downward on ths pole. Or, another way to look at it, I was pulling that pole directly toward my head. That was when I discovered the presence of that breakaway spring. At that moment, as that spring snapped, I effectively took a nine foot heavy rod iron pipe and POW! clubbed myself on the head at high force. I knock myself cold....

As I come to (I actually was only out for a moment) I pick myself up off the wooden sidewalk, I'm looking down at the sidewalk and *plop* a big bloody puddle appears on the sidewalk. Oh shit, I need some help. So my head is bleeding, I pick up my bass, sidestep the now dangling boingedy-boingedy pole and walk over to the downtown side of the bridge. In the summer of 1987 there was a meat-market type disco immediately there on 1st and Main. Everybody out to find someone to fuck, everybody in their 1987 best outfits, with the fluffy hair and all that shit, and there were several of these vacuous ninny boys outside the front door. One of them sees me coming with my bloodied head, I figure maybe someone would get me some help, but the first guy that sees me just points at me and laughs "hahaha! you look like shit! hahahaha!" I'm thinking to myself, yeah, who gives a fuck about my bashed in skull, what matters is how I LOOK ferpissakes...

So, fortunately, he wasn't the only idiot there and someone got me to a nurse or something that was working in the building. The only problem was, she asked me what happened. I didn't wanna say "well, I viciously clubbed myself over the head with a nine foot lead pipe", so I made up a story about being mugged (realizing that the story had this great big gaping hole in it, as I was still carrying my $400 bass). She seemed to overlook that stupid explanation (maybe she believed me, maybe she didn't) but she patched me up and sent me on my way...

OK, your turn...

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Trollheart

OK, well I'm in the toilet, in a cubicle, doing what you do in a cubicle and I finish, come out and go to wash my hands, cos, you know, I'm just that kind of guy. I look over and there's a girl washing her hands! She looks at me funny, I think to myself "Jesus! Couldn't you even make it to the ladies?" And then she leaves. Moments later I finish and leave and notice that .... I'm in the LADIES! Must have taken a wrong turning at a somewhat misleading divider in the shopping centre!

As quickly and nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, not at all) I make my exit, hoping I don't bump into the girl on the way out, which luckily I don't!

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The Batlord

Back when I was a little pre-teen, or maybe just recently a teen, I still hadn't figured out how to whack off, though I had been a hardcore porn addict since the fourth grade. Shocking, I know. Anyways, I'd been trying to figure this out for a while now, when I got the idea in my head to give the ol' vacuum a try...long story short, if you're gonna jerk off in a vaccum cleaner, and it's one of those bagless ones with a clear tube, then you might wanna think about cleaning it out every once in a while. Or else your mother will have questions. And then she will have a conniption.

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Paul Smeenus

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The Batlord

I wish it was bull****. It would have made one very bad night go away.

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