Saturday Night Confessions

Now I only have a few minutes before I turn back into a bumbling pumpkin, so I shall make it fast…

Embarrassing moments!  Thanks Blondewritemore!



First embarrassing moment.  I went out with my eldest daughter for some retail therapy.  She is a die-hard shopper whereas I prefer a quick run through the shops and then home, unless you take me to a DIY shop or decor shop.  Anyhoo, we are in a fab shop with loads of ideas for a new makeover of our kitchen and I’m really enthused by my ideas.  Without thinking I flap my arms out to gesture how I would paint the walls or something and I hit this poor woman in the face.  She yelled out and I quickly dropped my flapping hands and apologised profusely.  I attempted to explain why my arms were flapping, but she was not interested as her snozzle was still hurting!  My apologies fell on deaf ears and a sore nose.  I had to leave the shop as the other customers kept giving me dirty looks – or because my daughter was laughing so hard they must’ve thought I did it on purpose!  I haven’t retuned to that shop since the incident.

Second embarrassing moment.  I’m a martial artist enthusiast and when I was younger, had a guy from dubious origins teach me a few moves.  I love doing high kicks and would practise them around the house.  One fine day I was showing off my flexi skills down our passageway which had particularly slippery floors.  The combination of a forceful kick, slippery floor and socks sent me flying backwards onto my posterior, much to the amusement of the Hubble.  I now practise in private and certainly don’t show off!



Third embarrassing moment.  Taking my foot out of my mouth.  My uncle and aunt paid us a surprise visit when my first two children were small.  Our flat was a tip as it was a Saturday morning and we were relaxing, not thinking anyone would pop over.  After the initial embarrassment of letting them in to my hell hole of a home, we thought the only way to make it better would be to order a lovely lunch.  We settled down and the conversation was flowing easily.  Suddenly my aunt noticed the TV channel playing in the background and started talking about the values of television.  I jumped on the subject and spurted off the merits of children not watching too much TV, blah blah blah.  They nodded and commented when given an opportunity to speak and vaguely mentioned the religious channels.  I pounced on it saying how awful I found them and how ridiculous it was for people to watch over-exaggerated characters quoting from the bible for money.  Both of them looked at me and said they watched the God channel at which point I burst out laughing.  The God channel?  How ridiculous!  They looked at me, totally serious and said, “Yes we actually follow that channel and find it inspirational.”  There was no coming back from my poor behaviour and my apology sounded hollow to my own ears.  On the upside I learned to respect other people’s opinions and not make fun of religious channels!

Okay your turn.  Name three embarrassing moments!

Pics courtesy of replygif.net and flickr.com

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11 responses to “Saturday Night Confessions

  1. Moment #1: In high school, my government class visited with the local historical society in prep for an oral history project. They said the Pledge of Allegiance and Serenity Prayer. There was a bit of a pause so I sat down…just in time for the Lord’s Prayer. The man leading the group said – no joke – “Young lady, around here we respect our elders.” I stood up and didn’t move unless directed the rest of the visit.

    Moment #2: Telling my very religious aunt that mom and I didn’t need to pray because we lived in the city. I was 5, didn’t know any better…looking back I really didn’t care. Mom, on the other hand, was mortified.

    Moment #3: Backing into the ex’s father’s truck…in our own driveway. Dented the trunk of my car amd took out his tail light. I was so embarrassed I didn’t go near hom for 2 weeks.

    Who else has stories?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Alright. Here we go. I have been thinking about this for a whole day/

    The first one wasn’t really embarrassing for me at the time. I can’t even remember the incident. However, it has been a continuous source of embarrassment throughout my life, as my mother repeated the telling of the story to anyone who would listen until almost her dying day.

    When I was three years old, I was in the bath and trying to reach the bar of coal tar soap which was by the taps at the opposite end of the bath to me. I kept slipping, and never quite made it. My Mum just watched. Eventually she said, “For goodness sake, Lance, use your head!”

    With that, I leaned forward and head-butted the taps in my attempt to dislodge the soap with my head.

    Thanks Mum!

    The second one was when I was in the Army. Our Squadron Sergeant Major was a short man, and his nickname was “Smurf.” Our Corps wore [navy] blue berets, and a sergeant major carries a pace stick, reminding us of a smurf with a litter collecting probe. Hence the nickname.

    One day, as a Sapper (Private in the Royal Engineers), I was looking for the Seargent Major with some urgent news. I ran into the Corporal’s office and asked him, if he’d seen Smurf.

    He said “Who?”

    “You know. Sergeant Major Erff. Smurf. The poison dwarf. Our diminutive sergeant major.”

    Imagine my shock as a pace stick tapped my shoulder, and I heard a voice behind me. “Are you looking for me, Sapper Mitchell?”

    The final embarrassing moment occurred when our grandmother was looking after me and my sister, Kim, when we lived in a quiet suburb of Aberdeen. My Mum had gone away for a few days. We had a Siamese cat called Su-su, which is Malay for milk.

    My Gran, who we knew as Loll, or Lollol, was a simple Highland girl. She always thought that the most embarrassing moment of her life was when the postie came around the back of the croft and caught her eating a chicken leg WITH HER BARE HANDS! Kim and I knew different, but never, ever, told her.

    Somehow, she got a word into her head and started calling Su-su by this name. At nine o’clock every night, Loll would stand in our back garden, calling “Scrotum! Scrotum. Come on little Srottie. Where are your? Sctotum! Scrotum!”

    Kim and I were creased up with tears rolling down our faces as we tried to contain our laughter.

    When my Mum returned, the consultant surgeon who lived next door, could hardly wait to come round to tell Mum all about it. Of course, it was all our fault for not telling Loll.

    COL?

    Liked by 1 person

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