Then I attempted to pick "One of the MOST embarrassing things I ever did......" and I realized the list was far too long to choose from...
Ahem, let's see....
I'm not going to tell you about the time I left my kinky toy stash in a place where my niece could pull out.... errrr.... Never mind. I think I already shared that arse ache of a tale (put your toys away Momma!)
I'm not going to tell you about the time I failed to relocate said stash before my mother-in-law could find it....again (see link above)
I'm not going to tell you about the time I took my sick kid to a birthday party. Of course he barfed in front of everyone, after telling his Momma (over and over) "Me sick!" to which I answered (over and over) "Shhh! You're just hot Baby!" Ugh! I cringe just thinking about it - and of course, I already blogged about that one too (Happy Barrf Day!)
I'm not going to tell you about the time I called one of my friend's new husband by her ex's name at their wedding. I'd rather not remind her about that.
I'm not going to tell you about the time I pooed my britches. Thankfully I was at home and alone so no one else knew about it (until now), anyway, I don't care to elaborate as it's a really crappy story.
I'm not going to tell you about the time I thought I had a running chance in the company 100m sprint having not ran for almost 15 years (since High School). No one was left cheering at the finish line - not even my hubs - when I eventually limped across (I had considered veering off the track and going home after the first 20 meters, when both thigh muscles exploded and turned to mush and everyone, even the mature runners had left me for dust). I'd never seen the hubs truly ashamed before. Whenever I profess a desire to start running, he loves to remind me of this humiliating day.
I'm not going to tell you about the time I split my too-tight PVC pants all the way across the arse, when I attempted to jump up on stage in a Night Club. My deceptively tight bottom came spilling out of the gaping rip in full view of everyone down below... I remember thinking maybe no one noticed... but when I looked back all I saw was a sea of pointing fingers and raucous laughter. I could have died!
I'm not going to tell you about the time I stood up in front of the entire school when I was 10 and sang Burlington Bertie all on my tod. I was competing for a solo part in the school show. Of the 6 of us that auditioned only five were assigned solos.
Yep, you've guessed it.... I was the loser that didn't make the cut.
As if that wasn't mortifying enough, my 'friend' sitting beside me leaned over and whispered loudly enough so everyone could hear,"Mrs Earch said you can't have a solo part because you're tone-deaf." Oh, the humanity!
As much as I'd love to believe my friend was just being a rotten little cow bag, a ten year old couldn't have made that up. And you just know that if I'd been even half-way decent they'd have made room for me - they could have split one of the solos in two or something! Ah, shit.. it must have been pretty bad.
I'm not going to tell you about the time I winked at my sister's father-in law. It had been years since I'd seen him, and for some inexplicable reason I was intimidated and I gave him this painfully awkward smile wink shrug... thing. My sister's fella looked at me with a scowl on his face and asked loudly in front of his whole family "What you winking at my Dad for?" Major cringe moment!
OMG! This list goes on and on.... Kate from Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine with My Quiet Time? and Janine's Confessions of a Mommyaholic, you wouldn't believe the memories your prompt has unearthed this week! But I think I've finally got 'it' - not 'one of' but - THE most embarrassing thing I ever did.....
|I'm not even talking about this!|
Amazingly none of the above involved a lick of alcohol. I could write a second list of inebriated embarrassing moments that's even longer and dripping with booze. I won't bore you with a load of drunken stories, though.
Well, maybe just the one.
Here I go (sentence prompt and all).....
One of the most embarrassing things I ever did was attempt to drink my oilfield boss under the table.
It was early afternoon when I agreed to a 'quiet' drink in the Parrot with my co-workers. The Parrot was an ex-patriot pub in China and my co-workers were all blokes.
When we arrived it was packed. One of the managers (my boss) was celebrating his birthday and the place was crawling with company men (our bosses' bosses).
Being the only girl in such an environment is a LOT of pressure. They all want to chat and flirt and banter... and did I mention that I'm a 'pleaser'?
I love to make people happy. If I can give you what you want (within reason..) I'll do it.
Somehow I got coerced into sitting beside my boss who had a beautiful blue cocktail placed in front of him. The waitress leaned over us and placed the thinnest straw I'd ever seen through the cloudy top layer into the clear liquid below then set the cocktail on fire.
My boss sucked the flaming liquid down super fast, to the roaring delight of his pub audience. Standing up and holding both hands up in the air when he'd finished.
"What was that?" I had to ask...
"Woah... Josie's never had one! Another Flaming Blue over here!" My boss shouted over the bar to the waitress.
"George holds the record for most Flaming Blues consumed in a night!" The head company man slapped my boss (George) on the back.
"Only 6?" I chimed in in disbelief (seriously, what was wrong with me?)
"Think you can do better?" There was a glint in George's eye. I wasn't about to back down from that challenge.
(I was young, I was stupid - ya da ya da - and in no way do I condone what I did next..)
I downed my first Flaming Blue with ease. Then the next one. And the next....
My memory after that is somewhat sketchy.
I remember trying to suck down another, but it was a hot pool of never ending lava. Meanwhile the Parrot was bursting at the seams, everyone wanted a look at this idiot English girl who was attempting to drink George (her Scottish boss) under the table.
I realized too late that the Company man (who thought he was hilarious) had doubled up the last drink when I hadn't been paying attention - not that I had any means to focus on anything in my almost paralytic state.
That made five.
Next there was vomiting - lots of it. It started off on my boss' lap. Then I vaguely remember it all over the floor of the Parrot. Then some on the mirror and the tiles in the restroom. I'm not sure if any of it hit the toilet.
The next thing I knew it was 5am.
I was huddled up in my room, under a duvet... WTF? Wearing nothing but a hot pink thong. I was alone. Thank the Lord for small mercies, but I hadn't the slightest recollection of how I'd gotten home.
I was due to be driven to the port and shipped offshore later that morning. The driver waited outside my house three hours while I had my head in the toilet. I finally emerged white and shaky. The driver was incredibly concerned. He thought I was ill, and I had no intention of shattering his illusions.
I was marooned offshore for four weeks. Thank Fuck for that. Maybe everyone would have forgotten about my drunken capers. I'd be old news.....
A month had passed when I finally held my head up high enough to walk into another ex-pat bar in China. It wasn't the Parrot. It was a karaoke bar in a hotel.
I walked in to a slow clapping standing ovation. The Company man, who it turned out had driven me home (along with my covered in vomit boss) in the back of his van was applauding my valiant attempt. Five Flaming Blues was no mean fete...
Thus followed the 'true' account of what had happened following the fifth Flaming Blue. Legend has it I stripped down to my thong all by myself and ran about the apartment building with my hands in the air whooping....
As my boss's boss further enlightened me to my charming stripper-esque behaviors of that infamous night I cringed and prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me whole..
Sitting beside the Company man was my 'boyfriend'. In hindsight that description hardly seems fitting, but I'd thought myself madly in love with him at the time...
"Classy, Josie. Real classy." Is all he said.
So it may have not earned me many points on the 'girlfriend' front - but it did my career wonders. If there's anything those ex-pat oil-workers like more than visiting a whore house, it's drinking away their lonely sorrows. I'd proven I was game (at least for the drinking bit), and I had the balls to hold my own against the men out there...
It's not cool that that's the way it is. But that IS the way it is.
I closed that chapter of my life not long afterwards. It only took a time or two more before I acquired the confidence and Resolve I needed to stop making a complete drunken arse of myself.
I still do it when I'm sober though, all the time.