Archive for November 9, 2009
I came across this article in the news. It gave me a good laugh, so I couldn’t help but share it.
It also made me think about my own mortifying moments. And believe me, I have a bunch of them. MEGA TONS of them. Because I am one of those people who has a knack for embarrassing herself. I say the wrong things at the wrong times. I fall down a lot. I bend over and rip my pants.
I think my favorite mortifying moment (is that even possible… to have a FAVORITE mortifying moment?) would have to be when Paul and I first started dating.
I know, I have lost all dignity by telling the Internet about this. But it’s just too funny not to share.
So Paul and I hadn’t been dating for very long. I was sitting in his lap and we were watching a movie and talking. Everything was going smoothly… I was looking into his beautiful eyes and thinking about how amazing he was when all of a sudden…
IN HIS LAP.
His eyes got about as wide as saucers. Because he really couldn’t believe the girl he was dating just farted IN HIS LAP.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you just farted in my lap!” he exclaimed. Fortunately it was just a little fart. Dainty and feminine. A poot.
Thank God it wasn’t a roaring man fart.
Then his nostrils flared, like he was trying to make sure it didn’t stink. You never know, sometimes it’s the little ones that pack a punch. Sometimes you can have a roaring man-fart that’s completely odorless. Other times, you can have something like a seemingly innocuous and dainty poot end up smelling so bad that it could be captured and used as a biological weapon.
God was smiling down on me that day.
There was no odor.
Regardless of that small favor, I was mortified. Absolutely, positively, utterly and incomprehensibly flabbergasted. I wasn’t quite sure how I managed to let that happen. How do you let yourself fart in some one’s lap? And not just any someone… but someone you really, really like! So I did what I always do when I’m embarrassed and trying to hide the extent of my humiliation. I laughed.
And with that laughter, out came another fart.
And then ANOTHER ONE.
Holy crap, I was a total farting machine that day.
I farted three times in Paul’s lap. In the span of thirty seconds. The first one was a dainty little poot. The second two followed quickly, like rapid-fire machine-gun farts. And I was wishing I could crawl into a dark, hidden hole in the earth somewhere and just blend in with the shrubbery. So I continued to laugh out of sheer embarrassment.
And yet he still chose to marry me… the girl who farted in his lap.
So do you have a favorite mortifying moment? Do you have one that is even more mortifying than mine? I would love to hear some stories!