Band Camp

Band camp is already bad enough without my track record of embarrassing stories, so I’ll make this short. We had to do team building exercise where we passed different-sized fruit from person to person without using our hands and only using our necks and chins. I’m a very, very small person so this is an impossible task. We passed shortest (me) to tallest and started with a grapefruit which I immediately dropped, but the no hands rule still stood. So I got on the ground and failed over and over trying to grab the grapefruit with my little neck while the whole marching band looked on and laughed at me squirming on the ground like a worm.

And  the nail in the coffin: someone recorded the exercise and played it afterward only to rewind and fast forward multiple times over my incident at super speed.

I was not on the team that was built from that exercise.


The Year I Ruined Christmas

A few years ago I ruined Christmas.

No big deal.

My grandmother-in-law has a birthday very near Christmas and my parents-in-law decided to do a combo gift for her and get her a giant television. She constantly complained about her old tv so it was the perfect gift. We were all gathered around the fireplace on Christmas exchanging gifts, and an aunt asked Grandma, “What did you get this year?” She huffed and replied, “Oh, nothing…” I, thinking that her birthday had passed and she had already received her birthday/Christmas mega-gift and that she was forgetting that it was a combo, responded with, “What are you talking about? They got you a big honkin’ TV!” I was met a surprised look and a “Huh?” just as my father-in-law rushed into the room with the box and a “surprise!” He heard me spill the beans just as he was grabbing the gift and rushed in to save the surprise.

Now it’s an annual story that my husband thinks gets funnier every time he tells it.

Also I said “honkin’.” That’s embarrassment enough.

The Time I Pooped On My Fiance’s Car

Kind of. It was a little over a week before our wedding and my fiance decided we needed a serious break from wedding planning so we took a picnic trip to the beach. It was a beautiful day of relaxing in the sun with our cell phones off and our feet in the sand.

It takes about 2 hours to get home from the beach, so we left mid-afternoon to be back by dinner. Now, I don’t know what I ate, and I didn’t want to blame my then-fiance for food poisoning, but about half way home I got the serious bubble guts.

Like major, I-can’t-risk-a-fart belly bubbles.

Well between the beach and home there are only vineyards, orchards, and empty dirt fields. No rest stops. I held it until I couldn’t anymore and absolutely had to stop. I couldn’t even run away from the car before dropping my pants and even if I did, there was nowhere to go! We had stopped in the middle of endless rolling hills with only foxtail stubs to hide behind.

So I squatted as close to the car as possible as the poison forced its way out of me and my fiance shoved paper towels out the window for me to clean up with. Only one other car seemed to be on the road that day (thank goodness) and I hope they found my situation more humorous than appalling.

Finally empty of whatever would have undoubtedly killed me, I got back into the car to regain my composure. It was hard not to laugh at the situation, especially when the wind picked up and blew the used paper towels down the deserted road like contaminated tumbleweeds.

There’s no escaping the indignity.

Then the low fuel light turned on.

I swear we drove 100 miles before we saw any building at all let a lone a gas station. But we made it, and my gut made it.

And we still got married.

Just imagine it: poopie paper towel tumbleweeds dance serenely down the barren highway.
Just imagine it: poopie paper towel tumbleweeds dance serenely down the barren highway.

No Pants #3

In 6th grade I had a marching band performance in the morning and we returned to school around 3rd period to finish out the rest of the day. For 3rd period I had a mean, tiny, english teacher who always berated me for not turning in my weekly reading logs. I arrived to class late, in my band uniform (because, you guessed it, I forgot my regular clothes), and without my stupid reading log. The mean, tiny, english teacher stood me up in front of the class and questioned me as to why I could remember my band uniform and clarinet, but failed weekly to bring a reading log to class.

As I’m standing in front of my snickering classmates, my mom pops her head in with a bag of clothes and says, “Sorry, she forgot her pants!”

Not me. But might as well be.


No Pants #2

Somehow this no pants story happened in the same spirit week as the last. Friday was luau day. My friend and I decided to come in our floral bathing suits and grass skirts to match each other. She had a halter bikini with shorts and I had a one-piece, but guess who got sent to the office for immodesty? Yep. I only wore my grass skirt over my one-piece. Apparently that is worse than a bare back and midriff. I had to wait in the office until someone brought me some pants. I honestly didn’t even think about being embarrassed untill someone told me that I should be! Thanks.