From mortifying experiences in the doctor's office to excruciating mistakes, these embarrassing stories are beyond cringeworthy. Buckle up, because complete humiliation is a feeling we can all relate to.
This pretty young nurse used to hang out in my room the days before my surgery. She kept me company, and I was her escape from rude old men.
The surgery was at the end of my spine, at the top of my behind. I was a hairy dude. One day, she came in with breakfast, and I was like, "Hey!" But her eyes turned cold, and she had a stone face.
She said, "Turn around, please". I did. Off came the gown, and she started shaving my rear for the next hour. It was never the same after that.
Last year, a few teachers took my whole grade on a camp. At this camp there were shower cubicles with about half a metre between the ground and the bottom of the door. So on the second night, I was showering and I lifted my leg up to shave. That's when it all went wrong.
I slipped UNDER THE DOOR. Completely without any clothes. My entire grade watched as my soapy body slid under the door and all my peers gathered around to stare at me. I looked up to see my teachers and friends laughing, so I slithered my fat soapy body across the floor back into the cubicle, and cried.
Many students and teachers said things like “Are you okay?” The whole room was silently awkward with a few laughs here and there. After about five minutes of silently crying while people were waiting to use my shower, I swung open the door and sprinted out of the bathroom.
Later that night, everyone was talking about it and laughing and teachers kept coming up to me, laughing and asking if I was ok. Until this day I am constantly reminded of the “shower incident”. Thanks to my inability to balance and shave my leg, I earned some horrible nicknames that are still used to this day.
So here’s some advice: Don’t shave at camp.
I grew up with a dairy allergy. Not lactose intolerance, but like an actual allergy where I was told that my throat would close and eyes swell up if I consumed dairy. Apparently my eyes did swell a couple times when I was much younger.
I stayed pretty vigilant about not eating dairy when I could help it, so I don't have an actual memory of a reaction myself. Well, second day of my freshman year, I bought a sub and ate half of it before I realized there was Swiss cheese on it.
I freaked out and went to the office and told them, they called an ambulance and my parents rushed there. But there's a twist. It turns out I've definitely grown out of the allergy. 10 years later and my friends still harass me about the time I got scared by a sandwich and called an ambulance. Still embarrassed about it every time.
You know when you go get your physical at a doctor’s and you are asked to stand a few feet in front of a board with random letters and asked to read as many as you can as the letters get smaller? So here’s what happened to me.
Doctor: Read the 5th line please
Me: E G F T M....
Doctor: Okay, now close your left eye and read with your right
Me: (closes left eye) E....G. F T M...
Doctor: Alright, now with your left eye
Me: closes right eye E G F....T....M
Doctor: Okay, now both eyes again.
Doctor: With both eyes please
Me: (puts hands on both eyes) Uhhh...I can't see doctor.
I think about this often.
This was too funny not to share with people. I haven't been this embarrassed in years. YEARS I tell you. Grab your drinks and popcorn guys, cause it's a heck of a show.
It's about four in the afternoon. My family is out, I'm home alone, it's a beautiful day and I'm tuckered out from being out previously. It was nigh time to take a relaxing shower and get lost in my lo-fi music and the steam. And maybe have a mini concert. What? I like Disney songs. Though I'm nowhere as magical sounding as Pocahontas. Not the point though.
I shower, do my routine, and go to grab a towel—except for the fact that my hand hits nothing but metal hanging knobs. Shoot. I look around the bathroom for even a smaller towel, but we've been so busy in the last week or so that we hadn't done much of the laundry. So I peeped my head out the bathroom and make a run for the utility pantry.
Nope. To my chagrin, there are no towels in there either. You see where this is going. I shimmy to the back door, literally dripping through the kitchen and living room, my dogs looking at me like I'm some damp water creature with their beady eyes. I look through the back door window and huzzah, towels! There were some after all, I just had to look better.
Thrilled and relieved, I peeked through the dirty glass to make sure none of my neighbors were outside. The last thing Mrs Charlotte or Miss Patsy needs to see is my full moon out at nearly five o'clock in the evening. After a couple moments of careful scouting, I decide to make a run for it. Yes, towels! Thank God! I just gotta do this really quickly, run and grab it and skedaddle back to the house quicker than a cat can get mad on a hot tin roof in the middle of Georgia—
A resounding sound clicks through the air. Horror settles in. My mouth gapes open as I hurriedly wrap the towel around me. I don't want to turn around. I don't even want to THINK of the possibility. Slowly, though, I turn and to my absolute would-be-luck...the door is closed. And what's worse? No key. No phone. Nothing but the literal towel on my back.
As I stand there and try to convince myself not to panic, I tell myself that I just need to stay calm. Maybe I can jimmy the door lock. It's an 80-year-old house, they have to give way at some point....right? Wrong. Absolutely, terrifyingly wrong. Thirty minutes pass by and I finally dropped the screwdriver.
I wasn't going to break the window to get back in—my momma would have had my name and number. I'm talking whooped my butt plumb off, polished it, hung it up on the wall for everyone to see, all of it. I was in a sticky situation but not enough to make my momma mad. That's a whole other can I’m not willing to open.
So what now? Plan B. Except, Plan B was that there was no Plan B. The only thing I had left to do was to borrow a neighbor’s phone. So now I had to make the awful decision of "Which contestant am I going to traumatize today?" Behind door number one was my conservative neighbor, Mrs Charlotte.
She's sweeter than the flowers she plants and cares for every day, but I haven't spoken enough with her to be comfortable enough to show up in a towel, much less ANY of my neighbors. I hid behind one of our cars in the driveway and do my best to spy on my neighbor’s yard. And wouldn't you have it; Charlotte’s husband Charles is outside tending to the yard.
Nope. That was out of the question. I'm not about to be known as the neighborhood triflin' husband stealer. Now all I had was door number two, which was Miss Patsy's. She's a spitfire southern woman who would surely have a good laugh at this over some lemonade.
I could go for lemonade. I've gotten pretty acquainted with her plenty of times, and she had no men living with her. So I made the final decision. All that was left to do was to hype myself up for the run. It's just a couple feet, you can do it. Just knock on her door in the carport, she should be awake. Make a run for it and run like there's no manyana. Okay. It was time to go.
Clutching the towel as tight as I could over my body, I jogged to my neighbor’s yard, pitter-pattered my bare feet up the absolutely scorching blacktop driveway (it was a hot one, let me tell you), and rang her doorbell. The look on her face was priceless. PRICELESS. I WISH I could have been a fly on the wall.
With a mug in one hand and her dog in the other, her beady blue eyes widened as big as dollars, she opened the door and said, "Girl what you doing out here in that! Where's your clothes?" I swallowed thickly. "Um. They're kinda. Inside the house”. "Well can't ya' get in?! What in god's name…” "I promise I'll repay you for it, weed your garden or anything, I just need to call my mother and tell her I’m locked out”.
Without another word my neighbor let me in, threw me in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, no doubt grabbed her famous lemonade, and we had our chuckle. 15 minutes later my mother came home, unlocked the door, and asked, "Where'd you get the new clo—" and mid-sentence realized what she had asked. I had never seen my family laugh so hard.
At that point I was just thankful no one else had seen me, so I couldn't help but to laugh right along with everyone.
In middle school woodworking class, the teacher was lecturing us on safety before class. During the five-minute lecture, we all sat up on the work tables, which had vises on the corners. I wasn't paying much attention to the teacher and started playing with the vise, opening and closing it repeatedly.
Suddenly, everyone jumped off the tables and headed to the workstations. I quickly closed the vise and jumped off the table, not realizing I had clamped my pants to the table. That's when disaster struck.
The entire back of my pants ripped off in front of the whole class, and I also smashed my face and wrist into the floor. I don't think this is even the most embarrassing thing to happen to me, but it's definitely in the top 10.
It's 1979, I'm 16, and I'm working night stock in a small-town grocery store. While I'm stocking the dairy cooler, which has VERY loud overhead cooling fans, I hear my co-worker Angie call for a price check on thumb tacks. Try to remember that this is 1979 and there aren't any barcode scanners, so this happens all the time when price stickers fall off or get damaged.
I'm not far from the thumb tacks so I run out and grab both kinds, then get on the intercom and ask what kind she needs, the kind you push in with your thumb, or the ones you hit in with a hammer. The intercom in the back room is just inside the break room door, and two of my friends that work with me on night stock start laughing so much that I'm kind of smiling at this point and asking them what's so funny.
Right then, the night manager, Barbara, bursts through the swinging doors, takes one look at me, and yells, "You’re FIRED! What were you thinking? That's not ONE BIT funny. Pack up and GO HOME NOW!" At this point, I'm freaking out. I'm indignant because "I'm fired" and I know I didn't do anything to deserve it, but at the same time I'm upset to the point of tears because I really like Barb and I know she would never fly off the handle without good reason.
I'm kind of frozen, and Barb is still staring at me with a mixture of anger and disappointment that makes my stomach flip-flop. Without really knowing what I'm doing, I dropped what was in my hands, spread my arms out, and in a somewhat pleading voice, I managed to say, "Wait? What did I do? I don't understand!"
With that, Barb starts to reply but notices what I dropped on the floor (the thumb tacks) and starts laughing while holding her palms up and telling me it's going to be OK. She says that I'm not fired, but I need to go up front with her and explain things to Angie and the customer who asked for the price check. That’s when the truth came out.
If you think you're confused by all of this, imagine how I felt while it sunk in that the price check was for Tampax, and not Thumb Tacks. I remember actually groaning out loud when I realized what I replied on the intercom. Two more years of high school, and not a month went by without some freshman dork making an "intercom" voice asking for hammer-in tampons.
I left my apartment one night to go to work. I was half asleep and on auto-pilot to get there. I ran into my neighbor as I was walking to the parking lot. He talked to me for a few seconds, then awkwardly said "bye", grabbed his girlfriend, and walked away. When I got to work, I ran into a co-worker of mine in the parking lot.
He talked to me for a few seconds, then ended the conversation quickly and shuffled away. I took a couple of steps toward the door, the wind blew, and I felt a cool breeze on my wang. My fly was unzipped, and my wangpiece was hanging out of my boxers. Ever since then, I have worn boxer briefs because you can't beat the elastic fly.
My boyfriend and I were young, in love, and couldn’t keep our hands off each other. It was also that stage of a relationship where you just don’t go #2 at all in his bathroom. You hold it until you get home, cause yourself a lot of pain...but don’t dare stink up his bathroom. Of course, I was insecure back then too.
So one day I was a little under the weather, but his parents were out of town for the week. I came over to spend the weekend with him. After a day of fooling around, I was exhausted and doped up with cold medications. I fell asleep and took a midday nap. I woke up cuddled up next to my boyfriend...only to make a horrific discovery.
The bed felt wet. You know if I had just “wet” the bed, though, I wouldn’t be sharing this story...Nope. I pooped his bed, diarrhea in his bed, liquid diarrhea all in his bed. Yes...this really happened. I bawled my eyes out. He was sweet about it, and we actually stayed together for two years after that.
When I was 26 years old, I’d been having some bowel problems for a few weeks. I couldn’t take a dump, my bowels were blocked by something, and all I could do was squeeze out a little blood. I was in a lot of pain, but after some antibiotics, my bowels slowly returned to normal. I was relieved because I was due to go overseas for a holiday.
The Friday before I left, I saw my regular doctor to discuss whether I would be able to travel. I was pretty confident because I was on the mend. My doc was pleased with my recovery and said traveling would be no problem. He told me it might be a good idea to go to a small local hospital for a very quick, painless procedure called a sigmoidoscopy.
It would be a quick examination of my sigmoid colon, the part of your bowel closest to your rear. He made a call, and it was all arranged. I was to walk to the nearby hospital where I would be seen by a gastroenterologist and would have this sigmoid-whatever then it would all be over. My doctor told me it was non-invasive and I wouldn’t even need an anesthetic.
Both the surgery and the hospital were within walking distance of my house. As I entered the procedure room, it slowly dawned on me that even though my doctor had been very casual about this, I might be in for something quite unpleasant. I had been in a lot of pain over the past few weeks and figured it could hardly be worse than what I had already experienced. Nothing could have prepared me for the experience ahead.
The gastroenterologist asked me to lie on my side with my knees pulled up to my chest. He stood behind me, and a nurse positioned herself near my head. The nurse was a nice old lady who reminded me of my grandmother. As I lay on the table, a large TV was wheeled in front of me directly in front of my face. The monitor was switched on, and there appeared to be a static image of the corner of a room.
The doctor said, “Okay, let's begin”. As he spoke, I heard him pick up his instruments, and the image on the screen wheeled around suddenly. I realized it must be the video feed from whatever he was about to shove inside me. I barely had time to recognize my own hairy behind before a gloved hand appeared, spread my cheeks, and deftly applied some lubricant.
I then watched in horror as we zoomed in on my colon, which swelled to fill the entire screen. Something in my brain decided that I couldn't watch the next part because my eyes closed automatically at that point. The doctor started with a freezing steel tube. I gasped. The doctor asked me if that was uncomfortable, and I replied it was.
He asked, “Is it painful”? I replied, “No...No, it’s ok”. He told me, “I’m going to pump a little air into your bowel now just so we can get a better picture”. I heard a hissing noise and realized that this was going to be a new level of discomfort. I felt the pressure inside my bowels increase suddenly, and I could feel them expanding.
I had a sudden vision of a puffer fish blowing itself up as discomfort turned into pain. The pressure in my bowels quickly became too much to bear...and then it happened. My body responded the only way it knew—by evacuating the air in a ripper, causing my cheeks to flap painfully around the metal scope. It provided some slight relief, but I was overcome with shame and embarrassment on top of my discomfort.
I opened my eyes enough to squint up at the kindly old nurse and apologize. She smiled and reassured me that it didn't matter, which was fortunate because I passed more wind constantly after that. I couldn't help but instinctively and repeatedly apologize. As I closed my eyes again, I caught a brief glimpse of a lurid, glistening, undulating landscape on the TV.
I kept them closed for the next ten minutes while I writhed and gasped like a fish out of water. As I walked slowly and carefully home after the procedure, I realized that my face was frozen in a mask of shock and horror. All I could think of was that this must be what it is like to be probed by a robot.
A mate used to pick me up on his way home from his class. We'd go to his place and drink or play games for a few hours, and I'd walk around the corner to go home. One day, I got into his car and said, "Thank God that's over. Let's go home and get…Oh, sorry, wrong car".
An elderly Chinese couple was looking back at me in shock. The car was the same make and model, and the same color, as my friend's. It was also parked in the same place he usually parked. My friend was opposite them, peeing himself laughing at me.
I was in the first grade writing a spelling test. Everyone had dividers set around them so that we couldn't cheat. In the middle of the test, I started getting an upset stomach. I tried to ignore it since I was doing so well on my test so far.
I have no idea what I was thinking, but I then threw up a little in my mouth and swallowed it just so I could finish my test. My priorities clearly weren’t straight at the time. But it gets worse.
Thinking the puke was out of my system, I continued writing my test until all of a sudden puke just came soaring out of my mouth uncontrollably. Because we had dividers set up, no one had even known I puked until I raised my hand to notify my teacher.
My teacher then lifted the dividers and my puke flowed over on all of my neighbors’ desks. It was absolutely horrifying.
When I was about 12–13, I was constipated. Every now and then, a nugget would pop out, and I simply thought that was all the poop I had to do. One afternoon, I experienced a bad cramp in my gut—a contraction, if you will. I spoke to my mother, who was a nurse, and explained my predicament. We went to our local doctor, and he said that I had a poop backlog, and it could do with being evacuated.
I was checked into a hospital and administered suppositories. They had no effect, so then I received an enema. That also had no effect. So, over the course of the next two days, I received another set of suppositories and two more enemas. Then, one night while I was asleep, my body let its guard down—and total chaos ensued. I awoke with another contraction and felt the imminent doom that was about to escape my body. I headed for the lavatory.
As I sat on the toilet, I heard what could only be described as the gates of Hades being opened and felt my body become about five pounds lighter in three seconds. My entire lower body went numb. I called for a nurse, and after being helped back to bed, I overheard the words “Waste Team” being said. I spent the next ten hours in a deep sleep and the next day in a wheelchair before being able to use my legs again. That toilet was out of use for three more days. I think they had to replace it.
I can’t remember exactly how old I was, maybe around eight or nine, but we had a family party to go to. It was the type where adults and older people kind of socialized together and then the kids played together. Now, for some unknown reason I thought this year I wanted to be GROWN. So, I put tissue in my top to make out like I had, er, matured in the chestal region.
In my nine-year-old mind, I had finessed the system. I just knew that everyone at the party would have a newfound respect for me and I could join in with the adults. In reality, I had two balls of tissue in my T-shirt that I can only imagine now resembled two chest horns. Just before we leave our house to go, my mom comes over, looks at me with a blank expression, and takes the two tightly scrunched up balls of tissue out from the top of my shirt.
Like, holds them with pinched fingers, one in each hand. We have around three seconds of silent eye contact before she says “put them in the bin”. I put them in the bin and went to the party flat chested. This years ago and we’ve never discussed it. I’m 24 now and I still sometimes think about this before I go to sleep.
When I was 12, my school district required any kids trying out for sports to have a physical. This included the whole, "Don't drink, don't smoke, let's take your blood pressure, check your vitals, etc". The last and most embarrassing part for a 12-year-old boy is having the doctor examine his groin for a hernia.
I got a female med student to perform my physical...and my worst fears occurred. My little guy "reacted" in the way you'd expect, right around when she asked me to "remove my shorts".
She tried to act very professionally while examining my newly developed manhood before exclaiming, "I'm sorry, but isn't he too young to have that? before bursting out in laughter and leaving the room. Her supervising physician, who was male, finished the exam while trying to hold back awkward giggles of his own.
Meanwhile, my father was wiping back tears of laughter after witnessing what he was certain to be the most humiliating moment of his son's life.
I was awkward as a kid, and I didn't want any attention whatsoever. One day my family drove to Indiana to meet my sister's fiancé’s family. They were weird and very extroverted. It was uncomfortable so I retreated to the basement. They had a pool table so I spent my time playing pool by myself while everyone got to know each other upstairs.
Then, a horrible upset stomach hit me. Oh God. No way was I going to poop in this stranger's upper house. I looked around the basement and found a small bathroom off of a bedroom in the basement. Whew! I sat down and emptied out my bowels. Just one giant poop. Feeling better, I cleaned up, pulled my pants up and reached to flush...Click! Click click!!! The flush was completely limp. No way to flush.
I panicked. I can't leave this huge smelly poop in here...so, there was only one thing to do. I wrapped my hands in toilet paper and prepped myself to go in and wrestle her out of there. As soon as my hands hit the water, the toilet paper disintegrated. There was nothing I could do about it. I had to keep going. I grabbed that sucker with both hands and was immediately amazed by how rubbery it was.
I slowly lifted it out of the bowl and started swinging it over the seat, then threw it in the trash. I wiped the seat off and hid it under a bunch of toilet paper in the garbage. I left. We went to a hotel that night, ready to leave in the morning. The next morning, my parents told me we were going back to the house for breakfast. Oh NO.
We get there. There are less people. As everyone retreated to the kitchen for breakfast, I took the back stair to the basement for a re-con mission. I figured I could sneak the trash outside to get rid of the evidence. I go in the basement...I go to the bathroom. The toilet seat is down with a note, "out of order," and the trash is gone.
Needless to say, it was the longest breakfast ever. I was the only one in that basement the day before. The embarrassment. The shame. I still shudder today.
So I was sprawled out on my bed trying to look “appealing” because I could hear my boyfriend shuffling down the hall. He gets to the door and I’m laying there like “Open for Business!!” and he’s leaning in the doorway. Well, my cat chose that moment to jump off my headboard onto my stomach. All four feet, directly into my guts.
I farted so loud I spooked myself. My boyfriend flinched, then laughed so hard that there was no recovery.
Years ago, my dad was working at this big-name studio as a stage hand for a popular soap opera. He didn't often work days when people were filming, but this particular day he was. He was up way high in the rafters working on some of the lighting alone when he noticed that filming ha started below him and they called for "Quiet on Set".
Not wanting to make noise walking up on the catwalk or heading to the little elevator to clamor down to the floor, he decided to sit on top of a ventilation shaft for the air conditioning. He sat there for a while before he felt the rumbles. He had to pass gas. NOW. So, he let loose the gas. On top of the ventilation shaft. Where it echoed throughout the entire studio.
The actors and people behind the camera started laughing so hard, they had to stop filming so they could get themselves under control. Now, where this was being filmed, the company rented the cameras and whatnot. Every 10 minutes they weren't filming cost them, like, $2,000. Filming stopped for almost an hour.
Dad stayed where he was for about 30 minutes before he decided he should go back down and try to finish with his work, as normal. He gets down to the main floor and there his boss is standing, trying his hardest not to smile. All he says to my dad is, "Don't do that again". And that's the story of the $10,000 toot.
I got home from work and had a feeling of pain in my abdomen. It was not uncommon, given the fact that I have Crohn's disease, so I thought nothing of it and continued on with my night. By the time 9 PM hit, I was curled up in the fetal position with some of the most intense pain I've ever felt. As the night went on, I eventually vomited and felt immediate relief. I thought it was over, but I was so wrong.
Every few hours, though, the pain came back, and I ran out of things to throw up. When I saw it was 6 AM, and I still had the pain, I knew something wasn't right. Eventually, I was able to drag myself to the toilet to puke again, but this one was different. As I later found out in the hospital, I had a bowel obstruction. This one happened to work itself out by traveling out of the system the other way—I pooped out of my mouth.
One time I had to go to the nurse's office at school because I had a ring-shaped bruise around my mouth and the teacher and nurse thought I was being mistreated at home. What really happened is that I got a cup stuck on my mouth by sucking all the air out of it the night before while I was taking a bath.
I have sickle cell anemia. One of the lesser-known side effects, in men anyway, is priapism—a lengthy and incredibly painful boner. When I was 25, I was hospitalized for depression. On my first night there, they prescribed me Trazodone, a medication that, unbeknownst to me, increases blood flow in addition to sedation. After an hour, I had a serious hard-on; after two, it was pretty sore.
By morning, I wanted to end myself. At that point, the entire nursing staff was aware of my situation but was caught completely unprepared. They had never dealt with anything like that before in the psych ward. They informed the emergency doctor on call, and they contacted the urologist on call. Upon arrival, I was totally shocked—the urologist was one of the hottest women I had ever seen.
The remedy for this malady was to drain blood with a very, very large hypodermic needle. I had a burly male nurse holding my hand on one side—who had the most pained sympathetic, and horrified look on his face—an older lady nurse mopping the sweat from my brow on the other side, and this beautiful urologist holding my schlong in one hand and sticking a huge needle into it with the other.
I was standing in line at Hardee's and struck up a conversation with an 80-year-old lady. I noticed a long, loose hair had fallen onto her face and decided to brush it out of the way. I said, "Let me get that for you", and gently tried to lift the hair off her face. Unfortunately, it was attached to a mole.
My car was taken in the middle of the night, right outside of my window. I threw my shorts on and called the authorities. Surprisingly, they were there in about five minutes. The officer came in, we sat down, and I started giving my report.
I was perched on the edge of the cushion. I was a bit amped up, so it took me a couple of minutes to realize that the officer was looking anywhere in the room but at me. I looked down, and my nutsack had slipped through a hole in the crotch.
I figured, forget it. I’ve had to deal with their nonsense for years, so it was about time I made one of them uncomfortable. So, I left them swinging until I got up to let him out—he didn't shake my hand.
When I was dieting heavily in my younger years, I ate two large packets of sugar-free lollies. I was so happy I found them and thought I had seamlessly gotten away with a guilty pleasure. But it was all too good to be true...Little did I know sugar-free lollies have an enormous laxative effect. Sadly for me, it built up as gas in my stomach, and it felt like I was going to burst. When the gas finally passed in the emergency room, the 20-second ripper ended with a shart. It was the second most humiliating moment of my life.
I was at a friend's house for the first time ever. I met his dad, shook his hand, etc. About twenty minutes later, I asked, "Hey, where's your bathroom?" My friend told me, "First door on the right". I opened the door only to see something that scarred my eyes.
My friend's dad, sans pants and underwear, was sitting on the bed. He jumped up, ran over to the door, said, "Bathroom's across the hall", and shut the door. Turns out the bathroom door was the first on the left.
I had a partially herniated disc, so I needed a steroid injection in my back to get the pain and swelling down so it could slurp back into place while doing physical therapy. I went in, thinking the injection would be administered to my back. They told me to pull down my pants. Apparently, the steroid gets injected up INTO my spine from below, so basically, into my buttcrack.
They cleaned the site and loaded me up onto this machine that had a little X-ray above it. Somehow, the table broke; it wouldn't go up and down. The med techs kept pressing buttons, trying to get the table to move me up toward the X-ray machine, but it won't go anywhere. So you can imagine the horrific scene—there I was, face down, rear up for about 15 minutes, moving up and down in the air.
Eventually, they had to call a maintenance dude who came in and hit the machine a few times and got it moving. They went ahead with the injection, I pulled up my drawers, waddled out to my car, went home, and all seemed OK. Later that night, I was wandering around, and my fiancé asked me, "What's that on your pants"? I had no idea what she was talking about.
I headed to the mirror, and apparently, the stuff they used to clean the injection site with was bright blue. Combined with normal guy sweat, it had leaked through my pants to create a big blue stain right on my rear. I checked my actual behind, and it, too, was entirely blue. It took three days to scrub it all off.
I had just arrived into this super boring class on Zoom call. I checked to see if my mic was muted. It said it was. Then I sealed my destruction. I let my roommate know, “Hey, I’ve joined this stupid class and I probably don’t need to listen, but just so you know...” Someone from the class messaged me right away and said “Yo, your mic is on. We heard you talking trash”. I want to disappear.
My girlfriend decided to go to the park and take a walk one day. I told her that I had to do some stuff at home but she can go solo. About 15 minutes later, I decide to surprise her at the park. I go looking and I eventually find her. I sneak up behind her, spin her around, and give her a kiss.
As it turns out, that was not her, but instead a middle-aged woman wearing the same clothes. She slapped me so hard that I was seeing stars. Super embarrassed by this, I ran home and just waited for my girlfriend. I have never told her what happened.
So I met this guy for the first time and we went for dinner and drinks. He was so handsome and everything was going so well, we even kissed and there was an instant connection. But I drank so much to calm my nerves that I passed out in front of him back at the hotel. He said I was so gone that he was scared and called the receptionist from the hotel to help him.
I then went and sat on the toilet for ages. Then I was sick everywhere and he cleaned it up. But that was just the beginning. My period then started and I bled everywhere, all over the white sheets. He didn’t leave my side even though, again, he didn’t know me as that’s the first time we’d met.
Now I’m so ashamed to open his messages. He’s being so mature and understanding but I can’t come back from that. He said I was having panic attacks and eventually they had to call an ambulance, where the EMT spoke with me over the phone to help calm me down. He also said I was calling him different guys’ names. Dear Lord.m,
My husband and I have been working on a backyard project for a few weeks and finally finished yesterday. We had some cocktails to celebrate and I had a Zoom call at 7 pm for my daughter’s preschool. I continued to cocktail while on the call and didn’t eat dinner. I woke up this morning to a few text messages from other parents asking if everything was ok and if I was alright.
I was very confused as I couldn’t remember the end of the call. I called a girlfriend whose daughter is at the same school and who was also on the call. She informed me that I started puking in the middle of the Zoom call for two minutes straight before my line went off. Thankfully my video was off but the sound was not.
She said every time I would start retching, my box would light up and people would stop talking so it was very obvious it was me. I must have finally realized the meeting was still going and hung up after a couple of minutes, but at that point the damage was done. Ladies and gentlemen, mom of the year.
I'm the manager of the boys’ basketball team at school, so I video all their games. Well…I didn't realize something crucial. The recording had audio and I talk to myself A LOT. So during the recording that the team uses to study during practice, they now have a bunch of comments from me. And it's really weird stuff like, "I don't know anything about basketball, yet I'm the team manager" and "Oh shoot—the ball is over there now. Oops" and "WEEE" every time someone would try to shoot a basket from far away.
So coach came up to me after the game and told me "You do realize the video has sound right?" and I expired right then and there. Then he said, "But I think you're pretty funny so if you can't find a way to mute it that's perfectly fine". My soul has left my body. I can't decide whether I should be laughing or crying right now.
My girlfriend and I work together and whenever I walk past her, I either smack or grab a deep handful of her delicious booty. Well, I was walking by and did my usual…only to look up and see my girl on the other side of the restaurant. The person didn't even react until I realized and apologized about a hundred times.
This was super embarrassing and I almost quit out of shame. The restroom in my office has a row of urinals and a row of stalls. I was at a urinal and just started going when someone walked in the door. It was my boss with his young son (like four years old I think).
My boss had to take his kid to the bathroom and they're walking into a stall behind me. Well, the kid was holding a baseball and he threw it, hitting me in the head. It hurt more than it should have and I panicked and turned around, still peeing, and literally peed on my boss's leg and shoes.
I'm in shock. He's like what the heck? The kid is cracking up. My head is throbbing. I quickly turn back to the urinal to finish. Oh my god. My boss and I didn't make eye contact for a week.
I took my family for a Korean barbecue dinner. Somehow, my five-year-old cousin stuck her ice cream cone between my glasses and my eye. It hurt really bad, and I ended up in the ER. The next day, I went to the eye doctor. When he looked into my eye, he gasped. Basically, my cousin performed Lasik with an ice cream cone. My eye was patched all week, tinted yellow, and had no perception.
I was visiting my dad across the country after not seeing him for a while. He invited his friends over for some introducing, and we were all gathered around the kitchen with me being center stage. My dad requested I show everyone my moonwalk because I excel at it. I spun my butt around and proceeded to walk on the moon so well Michael Jackson gave a "Cha Mon!" from his grave.
But my dad being a dad, he decided to put his foot out and trip me midway. It all went so wrong. On my way down out of instinct I grabbed for anything close...the closest thing unfortunately was my dad's crotch. Yep, I grabbed my dad’s crotch in front of everyone.
A couple of years ago I was sitting in my college dorm talking to my dad on the phone. At this point I hadn’t seen or talked to my family in weeks and was spending the majority of my time with my boyfriend, whom I call “babe”. As my dad and I were wrapping up the phone call, I said “Okay talk to you later. Love you babe”.
AHHHHHHHHHH. In that moment I just FROZE. My face got so hot and I was absolutely mortified. My dad and I have a good relationship but we’re not close enough for us to laugh it off. Right after I said it, I didn’t know whether to laugh, apologize, or say nothing. I ended up pretending like it never happened and stayed silent.
I could hear my dad pause on the phone for a bit and he went “....... love you too” and I hung up. My dad and I have never discussed it. Sometimes when I lay in bed I think about it and cringe so hard.
When I worked in a medical office, I had to transcribe a report about an older gentleman who was experiencing some "dribbling" from his little guy. Rather than seek medical attention for it, he would place a small bean into the opening and just remove it when he needed to pee. Well, one day, his "solution" became a major health concern—he couldn't get the bean out. He figured it would come out on its own at some point, so he let it be.
Eventually, he did seek medical attention because the bean had begun to sprout.
During a Zoom class one day, the teacher was calling on students to talk. He calls on me and I unmute myself, but then my dad’s Christian music that he recorded starts playing EXTREMELY LOUDLY and I could not figure out how to turn it off. I muted myself and wrote in the chat that my mic wasn’t working. I can still hear my dad singing, “Christ the lord is risen today.....”
In high school, I was doing a science project that required us to carve wood into the shape of rockets, which we would then launch at a park with charges. During one of the first lessons we spent carving, I had a scalpel blade, which was attached to a handle. I was jabbing a piece of wood while talking to a mate, being preoccupied with the conversation.
I stopped, and when I started jabbing at the wood again, I took one swipe and hit the desk. I looked over to see what was up. Someone had moved the wood, and the tip of the blade snapped. Somehow, it had bounced off the desk and into my mouth. Instead of spitting it out, I made things even worse for myself—I stuck my finger in my mouth, which resulted in me swallowing it.
I was sent to the school nurse, where I puked blood and bile repeatedly. Then, the school nurse suggested that I water down my vomit and run a magnet through it to check if I had chucked it up. I did, and during that time, the ambulance arrived. I wiped my disgusting hands on my school uniform and hopped in the ambulance. I was anesthetized and woke up with nothing on except a hospital gown.
I had the worst case of morning wood ever. Then, I got wheeled to a room where I was going to get a full-body X-ray. As the doors opened, I saw a 9.8/10 nurse in there which brought my wood back again. I nervously looked down at the bulge from my gown and tried to adjust it. The nurse must have seen this and giggled slightly before leaving.
When I was in the 8th grade, I was going to try out for the school soccer team. Anyone who did any physical fitness at school outside of gym class needed to get a physical done. So, my parents and I headed to our family practitioner for a physical, but the problem was our doctor was not there that day. Instead, I got a female practitioner who was old and looked grumpy.
My parents were both with me. Once we got into the doctor's office, the doctor did the routine stuff—an eye check, pushing on my abdomen, taking my blood pressure, etc. After doing all of the tests, she asked me, "Please pull down your pants". My only response was, "What"?
My parents never told me I had to get my hernia checked because they didn't even know! So, as she asked that question and my seemingly bewildered response was given, my parents started laughing and were basically on the verge of tears in the corner of the doctor's office. At that point, I started laughing because it was my first time showing my balls to a doctor—let alone a female doctor—in a cold office. I pulled down my pants to the bare minimum.
The amount of jiggling and wiggling my nuts was doing was to the point where she just did a quick push and cough thing, cleared me, and I was out of there. It was by far the most embarrassing experience ever, not only because some old lady did a hernia check for me but because both of my parents were in the room watching and laughing.
I am a very awkward human being at the best of times, but this just takes the cake. I had just been on the phone to my boss, finished the call, and dropped my phone in my lap. All is well. I turn my car on and “Larger than Life” by the Backstreet Boys is playing on the radio. I belted out a few lines because it's just what you do in these circumstances.
That was when I heard the unforgivable click of a call ending on my phone. Unbeknownst to me, boss lady hadn't hung up for a good minute and had still been on the line during my impromptu performance. Gonna have to move states now.
I wanted to have some Italian food on a Friday night once but had no one to go with so I went by myself. I was just scrolling social media and I have a tendency to look around a lot, I don’t know why, I just do.
Anyways, when it was time to pay the bill, it all went upside down. The manager comes out and says it’s on the house because I got stood up. I was so mortified that they thought that and I told them repeatedly that I just came to enjoy dinner by myself. They insisted I kept looking up from my phone to the door, so I obviously got stood up and was now lying to save my dignity.
I told them it was just because I’m nosy and I wanted to pay, but they insisted...and gave me a dessert to go. I mean very embarrassing, but I would be a liar if I said it didn’t cross my mind to do it again for some free food.
When I was in 6th grade, to wrap up the school year in my hometown, all the schools would have a big "Beach Day". Everyone was really stoked about it. When the day came, I woke up early to get ready. For some reason, my friends and I decided to wear our pants commando so we could get in and out of the changing rooms quickly.
So, I went to put on my loosest, most comfortable, REVERSIBLE cargo pants. They were the kind from the '90s with a zipper that could flip around. I thought they were so cool...until they betrayed me. The zipper snagged my poor, prepubescent little guy in the worst of ways. At first, I thought it was no big deal, but this time was different. After fighting with it for a good 10 minutes, I had to call my dad for help.
My dad was known as being the worst morning person ever. He walked into the room, hearing me crying and trying to call out for him. I stood there with my heavy cargo pants supported by my tiny child's thingy. My dad never laughed harder, which just made me cry more. By that point, I was late for Beach Day. My dad awkwardly tried getting the zipper dislodged, but it was holding strong.
He did all he could, then grabbed a pair of scissors and cut out the small square of my zipper from my favorite pants, leaving me with a one-inch square of fabric and steel hanging on by the tip. Tiny drops of blood were visible. Painfully, my dad got me to put on a pair of snow pants— the loosest fitting pants I had—and we left for the hospital.
There was a three-hour wait, and my dad couldn't stick around because he was already in trouble for work. So, he left me waiting, crying alone, in the crowded waiting room full of strangers asking me what my problem was. It just made me cry harder. Finally, I got in to see a doctor, and an incredibly attractive nurse had me explain my situation to her, which may have been the most embarrassing moment of my life.
The doctor came around, and the nurse did her best to professionally tell him what the problem was and couldn't translate it without breaking out in laughter—both of them. I cried even more. The doctor got me to take off my snow pants and checked out my little-boy business. That was bad enough, but it just spiraled even more from there. He then proceeded to tell me he was going to have to numb the area around the tip, and the only way to do that was using a needle—three, in fact.
Once I had lost all feeling in my boy bits, he took out a tiny jaws-of-life-looking device to crack the brittle steel of my zipper. The whole thing took about 10 minutes, and the doctor swore he had never dealt with such a serious case of "zipper jamming" in his 20-year career.
He gave me some Polysporin and told me I couldn't be in a swimming pool because of the risk of infection. I missed Beach Day.
I went to a walk-in clinic to get help with a Diva cup that I couldn't remove. This was my very first time using one, and I didn't insert it properly. It was angled too far up, and the suction kept that thing in there tightly. After 24 hours of trying unsuccessfully to get it out myself, I decided I needed help. So, I sucked up all my pride, swallowed my embarrassment, went to the local clinic, and told the doctor what I wanted her to do.
I have never been more embarrassed in my life. I got on the table, and she found the bottom of the cup, pinched it, struggled with it a bit, then pulled it out. The doctor gagged, put the cup on the table beside her, and promptly left the room without a word. I cleaned myself up, rinsed the cup in the little sink in the examination room, wrapped it up, and stuck it in my purse. I left the building as fast as I could and never went back.
Some years ago, my ex and I were camping in a national forest, and on one of our days there, we decided to hike to the top of the mountain to a spring that we'd never been to. It was a very long hike, and we were unprepared. About halfway up the mountain, we ran across a group of people sitting by the side of the trail.
We stopped to ask them if they knew how much farther we had to go. They had no idea, but they were friendly, so we chatted with them for a few minutes while we rested. There was one woman, a little apart from the group, that our dog took a great interest in. He wouldn't leave her alone no matter how much we called him to us.
It became embarrassing, and we had to physically pull him away from her. He was normally really well-behaved, but for some reason, would NOT leave the squatting woman alone. We apologized for the dog's behavior, chatted a minute more, then continued on our way up the mountain.
We were about a mile or two farther when we realized that the woman was apart from the group and the dog wouldn't leave her alone because she was peeing. We had been talking to her and invading her woods-peeing space the whole time.
I used to do cable installations and would often be at someone's house early; family members would be asleep or getting ready for their day. One morning, I knocked on the door of a nice house. The husband answered, and we discussed what I was supposed to be doing for him.
He let me in and directed me to the bedroom. I was a few steps in front of him, talking about the work I was going to do when I rounded the corner in front of the bedroom. His wife was walking out of the shower with nothing on but a towel on her head and her arms raised, drying her hair.
We saw each other, and both turned around. She apologized profusely, as did I. Obviously, I couldn't just leave because I had a job to do, so I started working in the living room, talking to her husband—who was mildly amused by the whole thing—while she was getting dressed.
After I was done there and she was dressed, I went back into the bedroom where she was. She apologized again and said something to the effect of, "I probably blinded you". I kinda laughed and said, "Nah", but I so badly wanted to tell her how incredibly hot she was and how it was the highlight of my cable career to see her in the buff.
I was packing up my stuff and leaving my ex-boyfriend. My sister, who was kind enough to wait outside, was feeling impatient, so I was a little rushed. I was trying to hang a hanger in the back seat hook of her car when I suddenly got the hook end of the hanger stuck up my nose. I panicked, pulled, and in doing so, I made a critical mistake—I ripped my septum out completely. There was blood everywhere. I was pretty embarrassed to admit to the doctor that the injury was sustained in a spaz attack.
I had the mumps during my first year of college, and along with that, I got orchitis—swelling of the testicles caused by the mumps—in my left nut. It swelled up to the size of a potato. It was really painful and heavy, so I had to carry it everywhere for a while. I went to the doctor. He checked my mumps...then I told him there was another problem.
I dropped my trousers and lay on the exam table, and he came over to look. He laughed when he saw it because it was huge. He jokingly said, "What seems to be the problem". It was at that moment that I pointed to my regular-size bollock and said, "This one shrank".
So this just happened. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen, walking beside my dog towards the stairs. I am a 29-year-old adult. As I got to the stairs, my snack slips out of hands, falling down the stairs. I instantly yell out “Noooo my peanut butter square! Thank god for Saran Wrap!”…Well turns out my dad was on a big Canada-wide company meeting.
They so heard and BURST out in laughter. Oops. As I walked downstairs, he’s laughing saying, “Yes that’s my daughter having a snack SNAFU”. There was another member laughing saying, “I can’t wait to see this all written into the meeting minutes, and brought up in the next meeting’s recaps”.
Well I guess snack SNAFU is officially going on a government document. I later found out it was not only written in the minutes, but it has and AUDIO and VIDEO record. To make it even more ridiculous, when I walked by, my hair was in a messy bun but what I was wearing is where this gets good.
I was wearing a red plaid onesie with a butt flap that’s held up by three big black buttons. On the flap, there are two bears that are like you’re looking at them from behind. Basically a good view of their bums and tails. With BIG BOLD letters reading… “BEAR CHEEKS!” I found out today someone screenshotted this from the meeting and added it to the notes. My dad officially labeled it.
Oh my God. This is probably the worst moment of my life. I was with a co-worker who I hadn’t seen in a long time. Now, I’ve always been nervous about greetings and handshakes, so I was already on edge and I couldn’t anticipate which greeting I was supposed to use. My co-worker moves towards me—and we were like an inch apart because it was a small space— and I panic, thinking he’s going for a hug, and just THROW MYSELF INTO THE HUG WHOLEHEARTEDLY.
Once I let go, he threw his trash into the garbage can right behind me….I could expire from the embarrassment. I had to hold myself back from quitting the rest of the shift. I am so mortified.
When I was still in high school, I went through a phase where I dyed my hair bright, firetruck red. I also was in an emo/goth phase, so I ended up looking like a bad punk edit of Ariel. Well, there was a guy at my lunch table who I had a HUGE crush on at the time. I was super shy, but my friend helped me muster the courage to talk to him.
I asked him “How does my hair look?” I was expecting like a “It’s pretty” or “It looks fine”. It got so much worse. This boy looks straight at me and says “you look like a used tampon”. The entire lunch table laughed. I wanted to cry. I never asked him how I looked again. It was a bad day.
I had developed a nice case of hemorrhoids because of birthing children. After attending a going away party for a friend of mine, I laughed so hard that my hemorrhoid thrombosed. I felt like I had a large grape attached to my behind. After a couple of very uncomfortable hours, I called my mom because she worked in surgery and had doctor friends.
I asked her if a prescription for a cream or something could be called in. The doctor said, "Just bring her by the office". So my mom loaded me up in the car and took me in. After some awkward chit-chat, I showed the doctor my rear, who then instructed my mom to "Glove up". The doctor took a scalpel and lanced hemorrhoid, drained the clot, and popped in a few stitches. The most humiliating part? My mother held my cheeks open for the surgeon.
In my first year of university, I managed to get a cold sore on the right part of my lower lip, that slowly but inexorably spread to my upper right lip, took over the entire right side of my mouth, and then, somehow, began to spread down over my chin and across my cheek. I didn't even know cold sores could spread beyond the lips/mouth.
This cold sore covered a good third of the lower right side of my chin and cheek. After a week, I looked like a plague victim. It got so painful I couldn’t speak, and I wound up drinking soup through a straw because any other food was too agonizing to consume. I made an appointment at the university clinic. I arrived, having covered my lower face with a scarf.
I got to the nurse's room, and they chuckled, saying, "Oh, it can't be that bad. Take your scarf off; we've seen everything here"! I duly removed the scarf to display my giant cold sore. The nurse abruptly lost her smile. She stared in an awful way at it, and then said: "Wow, if we had a board with photos of the worst-case scenario for each type of affliction, we'd have a photo of that for the cold sore section".
I was in the men’s room, answering the call of nature and reading the news on my phone. The article said that “ping”, the social component of iTunes, had been made available on all iPhones the night before. Curiosity got the better of me, and I switched over to iTunes.
Sure enough, there was a “ping” button, and the screen had a section that said, “People Who Follow Me: No one is following you". That struck me as sadly humorous, so I decided to make a screen grab of the message to show my co-workers.
I had to press the menu and power buttons at the same time, at which point, the phone made a clicking noise like a camera. I was in the men’s room, and I wasn’t alone.
I was at a bar and saw a girl I used to hook up with casually. I had heard she was pregnant and assumed she had had the kid already, so I inquired about it. That turned out to be a tragic mistake. She responded with, "He passed. I miscarried. At eight months", then started tearing up and telling me about it and how it wouldn't be so bad if people would just stop asking her about it.
Her fiance was standing behind her shaking his head at me the entire time. A bit later, I saw her run out of the bar crying. The worst part was after I thought about it, I realized I had completely heard that something had gone wrong and they didn't have the kid, it had just totally slipped my mind.
Years ago, right when I had started university, I was walking from one building to another on campus. Due to their locations, there was a fair length of street running between both. On one of the sidewalks of this street, there was this absolutely humongous tree that had grown deformed. Half of its trunk was nearly horizontal at a VERY low height.
I knew I was running late for a conference I wanted to attend, so I picked up the notebook I had written the time on from my backpack and opened it immediately to see what time it was supposed to start. Less than 10 seconds later, I was on the floor, completely dizzy, and I couldn’t even remember how I got there.
A kind soul helped me up and to campus and told me that I had a bubbling, pulsing lump on my head. They told me that I had smacked into the tree at an almost unnatural speed. By the time I made it home, I had a glorious cartoon-sized bump on my head that lasted for nearly a week before it disappeared.
After the kind passerby picked me up and told me what had happened, the only reaction I had was, "Oh, whoops".
I was camping when I was 11. I was out with some friends and their parents. Around 9 PM, I went to take a leak when I noticed something horrifying on my junk—a tick. I couldn't get it off, so I ended up having to get my friend's dad to help. Everyone knew what was going on, and I was terrified my junk was going to fall off. I was practically bawling.
After ten full minutes of his dad tugging at the tick with tweezers, it finally came off. A week later, the bite was still visible, and I had to go to the pediatrician to get it looked at. It turned out the head was still in my head. That's two grown men who now had to tweeze my schlong in a week. It was terrible.
I was once dating a woman who had two kids. We were sitting in her living room while her children were supposedly in bed. Normally, I avoided women with kids, but she was pretty adamant about not wanting me to be a father to them. We were sitting there watching Netflix when things took an embarrassing turn.
Her two-year-old came walking out the back of the house holding something up and saying, "Ma, what dis?" In his hand was a bright blue vibrator. She went bright red and grabbed it away from him, took him back into his room, and came out a moment later completely flustered and embarrassed.
I waved it off as nothing, we finished the movie, and I went home. After that, she never returned my calls, so I guess the incident was more embarrassing for her than I thought.
My buddy was a tattoo artist, and I used to hang out at his tattoo parlor quite often. His piercer was there as usual, and we were hanging out and having a few laughs. The piercer's girlfriend was also there. I had met her a few times but wasn’t that familiar with her.
All of a sudden, I noticed her arms and screamed out, "What happened to your arms?" She had hundreds of scars running up both of her arms from a “bad time" in her life when she used to cut herself. Whoops.
I was in Golden Gate Park on one of the days when they shut down the roads for biking and rollerblading. My friend's sister was wearing rollerblades, and she ended up at the top of a steep slope in the walkway. She was just standing there because she was afraid to come down.
I convinced her to just go for it, and when she finally did, she flew so fast that she slammed right into an old woman walking in the same direction. The old woman landed on top of her, and her wig popped right off her head.
Me and my friend are very weird. For example, we once tried Benadryl just to see how tired we got. Well, I had this similar genius idea where me and my friend could try laxatives. We couldn’t get our hands on any, so I started researching natural laxatives. One of them was rhubarb. This was perfect because my mom grew rhubarb stocks.
She would cut them and turn the rhubarb into cakes, muffins, and cupcakes. I waited until June and then requested to my teacher that our class should do an end-of-year potluck. She thought that was a good idea, so she started organizing it and messaging the parents about it. I asked my mom to bake three of her famous rhubarb cakes for the potluck.
She had to cut a lot of the stocks off since it was early summer, and they hadn’t really grown. On the day of the potluck, I kept two cakes in my backpack and then gave the other cake to my teacher. After school, I asked my mom if I could go to my friend’s house and she said yes. I decided to push it more and ask for a sleepover, and she said yes.
My plan was working perfectly. That night, I ate Chinese food with my friend and his family, and then we started setting up our beds in the basement. After that, I busted out the rhubarb cakes and we each ate one. We stayed up until midnight waiting for the rhubarb to kick in, but we fell asleep.
I woke up later that night to the sudden feeling of diarrhea pounding down the walls of my intestines. It felt like the FBI was busting down the door of my butt, and a tidal wave was going to come with it. It was pitch black, but I could see the light of the bathroom from across the basement.
I ran to it, but my friend had beaten me there. I really wish I had cheeks of steel back then because this rhubarb was doing a number on 12-year-old me. I was going to try to make it to the bathroom upstairs, but I was better off just squatting down right then and there. The diarrhea finally broke free.
My friend came out of the bathroom to the sight of me sobbing in the middle of the stinkiest liquid I had ever created. I don’t think he appreciated the fact that I re-created Shrek’s swamp in the middle of his basement, but he was supportive about it. We got it cleaned up without anyone knowing, but there’s still a strange rhubarb smell in that basement that reminds me of what happened that night. Never try laxatives, kids.
So I'm a 20-year-old girl and I got a male tutor three years older than me for physics and maths. Yesterday I wore an old pair of pajamas that was just hanging by the door because my room is really messy and I can't ever find clothes. So while we were studying, my sister's cat started yelling at my cat, and their fights get pretty bad sometimes.
I asked for permission and ran upstairs to get my cat. I went and got my cat and while sitting back down, I felt my PJs were feeling a little weird. I tried to fix it, only to find out that…it was ripped. Yes. A pretty big rip. I wanted to be decomposed by a billion bacteria in that instant. I do not know if he saw it. I tried to read his face, but I am bad at reading faces.
I pretended the cats scratched me and I'm hurt to make him leave early. I ran to my mirror. Saw one whole butt cheek full-on bare. I am embarrassed beyond infinity. I could not sleep last night. I cannot stop thinking about it.
I was in a play with my good friend. The two of us played characters that were extremely close friends and co-workers. As the play progresses, the characters become more heated with each other. One scene in particular, my character reveals to his that he has been working against him the whole time.
They have an emotional blow-up that involves screaming and crying and a lot of emotion. During the scene, our faces get extremely close and we look each other in the eye, and then I walk away and he stays there in disbelief. Here’s where it got creepy and weird.
My other friend told me that she thought the two characters were more like lovers than friends, and she THEN proceeds to tell me that she actually wrote a fanfiction of the scene that ends with us sleeping together. I had no idea what to say. What do you say to a friend who tells you "Hey I wrote a dirty fanfiction about you?" I still can't look her in the eye.
I used to work at Home Depot. I had an elderly man in his 70s walk up to me and hold out his fist. I didn't have any idea what he was doing, so I figured he was trying to give me a fist bump. I reluctantly returned him with a fist bump, at which time he just stared at me with the strangest look on his face.
He began to shake his fist, which is when I realized he was trying to hand me a small part he was looking for in the hardware department.
I was sitting in a high school history class, and nobody was taking any work seriously, so I was chatting with my friend who sat in front of me. Meanwhile, they were playing with an empty energy drink I had on my desk. Unbeknownst to me, my friend pulled off the tab at the top, snapped it in half, threw it inside the can, and put it back on my desk.
Hoping I could get one more caffeinated drop of Ampy goodness, I tilted back the can, grabbed a couple of drops, and then my eyes widened with fear—I instantly began choking on a sharp jagged chunk of metal. Unfortunately, I accidentally swallowed it. I ran out of the room and down to the nurse’s station. Nobody knew what had happened; I just jumped out of my seat and ran down the hall. The ambulance came, and I went to the ER, got some X-rays, and the doctor told me, "Yeah, just wait a while and [poop it] out".
I was loading a new equipment rack into what I thought was an empty classroom. I couldn't see well around it, so I rolled right in to set it up for the company that was coming in the next day to install the equipment. About halfway into the room, I heard a terrified scream and a very strange automated sound. I turned to my side to see a woman pumping for milk.
She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Horrified, I didn't know what to do, so I quickly dumped the rack in the corner, said "sorry", and rushed out. Pretty much everyone in the office has had a good laugh about that one.
I had just started a new job working at a factory that produced and packaged industrial chemicals of some sort. On my first day, during lunch, I went to the bathroom to pee. The bathroom had one of those trough-style urinals like you find in sports stadiums.
So, I positioned myself over it and started peeing. About mid-stream, a guy came out of the adjacent stall and gave me a quizzical look. He then walked over next to me and used his foot to press a bar that was located at floor level. Water started running, and he washed his hands in the large, deep sink that I was currently peeing in.
I was 18 and had just become romantically active. My girlfriend at the time was new at things and knocked one of my family jewels. The pain would fade and return pretty frequently for a few days straight. Finally, I decided to go to the ER. My dad took me—he knew nothing of chit-chat. The doctors had me pee in a cup, took my blood, pressed on my abdomen—the whole nine yards. After about four hours in the ER, the pain had once again dissipated, and I tried getting out of there...
But it was too late. As I started getting up off the bed, a nurse came in and said all tests were negative, but they needed to administer a rectal exam. So here I was, standing in a room with a doctor who looked JUST like John Clayton. He didn't say one word to me. All in one swift motion, he put his hands on my hips, turned me away from him, pulled down my boxers, and stuck what felt like his entire lubed-up fist in my behind.
I've never felt such an excruciating and weird feeling in my life. I could feel his fingers dance on my prostate. He was up there for a good minute feeling around. After he pulled out, I waddled straight to the toilet. There was still not a word from the doctor. I walked back to my room in the ER to see my dad red in the face, laughing so hard, he was crying. It turns out the rear action fixed my twisted nut.
My father took me to the hospital when I was 15 to check a skin condition on my buttocks that I had had since I was six but had gotten worse. The doctor did not know what it was and said I had to attend the dermatologists’ morning meeting. I thought that I was going to sit with them and tell them about my condition and that the pictures the doctor had taken earlier were going to be looked at on a computer.
At 10 AM, about 10 doctors and apprentices came into the office. I was getting ready to pack my bag and go sit with them, but the doctor said, "Remove your pants, please". I was mortified, while my dad sat in the corner, trying not to laugh. I had to do as they said, and all the doctors gathered around like my rear was the most interesting thing they had ever seen. One of the apprentices poked me with his pencil, and no one even looked me in the eyes or talked to me. After that, they cut a piece of my behind off to examine it further.
During a college break, I worked as a teacher's aide at a school for autistic kids. There was this one little guy in my class who always had outbursts and would do crazy, unexpected stuff, so you had to watch your back when he was near. One day, we were sitting around the classroom with the kids, and the unpredictable little guy was sitting next to another aide.
Out of nowhere, the little guy made some loud, unintelligible noise, leaped up, and snatched the wig clear off the aide's head. The now-bald aide grabbed her wig back from the little monster and scurried out of the room.
In an old college class—Law and Morality—there was a guy who sat next to me. We were both liberals and would constantly complain about how conservative our instructor was. One day, a guest lecturer who was a doctor came in to talk about why we shouldn't have universal healthcare.
I turned to the guy next to me and said, "Ugh, do you hear this guy and his conservative nonsense? I tuned him out like 10 minutes ago". The guy replied, "Um, that's my dad". I was silent.
I worked in retail and was working at the checkouts. A customer dumped all the clothing they wanted to buy on my table, except they were half hanging off the counter. This caused the pile to fall towards the floor. So, on instinct, I swung my arm to try to catch the items.
Instead of saving the day, I ended up punching an elderly woman in the stomach. Try explaining that to a manager!
I applied to work at a Staples during high school and brought to the interview a "resume" of sorts, certificates of awards I had earned, etc. Plus…an MRI of my brain from when I had gone to Boston Children's Hospital for some research study. What exactly compelled me to do this? I have no clue. I can only begin to imagine the confusion of the store manager as he flipped through the papers. I got the job, though.
This happened a few weeks ago. I was going outside a mall and saw a man heading to the door. I thought, “How about I do a good thing?” and held the door and the man thanked me. I was about to say “You're welcome” or “Not a Problem,” but my brain just shut down and I instead told him: "You're a problem”.
I just finished my first day at a new job—it’s my first full-time job, actually. I aced the interview, did great, and finally, I had my first day. They had a nice little virtual meet-and-greet, so all the team could welcome me. They decided that everyone was going to ask me a question to help get to know me better.
Someone asked what my favorite vacation I had been on was? My idiot self says, “One time my parents left me at the Georgia Aquarium by accident when I was 12”. The second I close my mouth, I want to crawl in a hole. I have no idea what compelled me to say this. I tried to laugh it off but I could tell they were really confused and concerned.
Darn it, I can ace an interview but ask me a simple question about my personal life and I’m a total idiot. I don’t think I’m personally ever going to let myself live that down.
When I was in seventh grade, my seminal valves twisted on one of my testicles. This started when I was in class. I noticed difficulty walking to class, and it started to hurt. Halfway through class, I could feel my heart beating in my family jewels. I asked the teacher if I could go to the nurse’s office. I told him it was an emergency, but he told me I could go after class.
I waited about 10 minutes before I just got up and left. I got to the nurse’s office and had to drop my pants to show her my gigantic testicle. At that point, the left nut was about the size of a large orange, and the right one had shrunk to the size of half of a raisin. She started freaking out and called my parents and the hospital.
The hospital told her to get me an ambulance. The paramedic put a stethoscope on my ball and asked me a bunch of dumb questions about it, like “Is this abnormal? Have they ever done this before? Does it hurt? Do you normally have a testicle that is 200x times the size of the other”? When I got to the hospital, I was told to remove my pants in triage so the nurse could see. But that's not the even worst part.
The hospital was under construction, so triage was in the middle of the waiting room. I bared myself to 50 people or so. They started an IV and made radio calls to set up an operating room. They started rushing me around the hospital, room to room, on a chair with my pants and underwear off. Finally, they decided to do an ultrasound on my testicles to see what was really wrong.
I was finally in a room with the ultrasound device, surrounded by 30 med students of some type, looking at my nuts. Many came up and touched them at some point. Finally, the ultrasound tech got there and started looking at my nuts. They applied a bit too much pressure and crusty GREEN puss burst out of my willie onto a doctor's white lab coat.
The ultrasound tech and ER doctor told me, "It looks healthy. No need for panic", and referred me to see a urologist. He gave me a bunch of pain meds and told me to stay home from school.
I was an E3 electronics tech in the Navy, fresh out of school, at my first duty station, which was an airfield. I took the big air search radar out of service for maintenance. There was a safety interlock that prevented it from radiating when it wasn't rotating.
Three of my coworkers were up on the platform, doing their thing in front of the dish, while I was down below in the shelter, checking the electronics with a voltmeter, sig-gens, o-scopes, etc. One part of the procedure I was following required power to be applied to check signal strength in a part of the circuit.
Not thinking, I defeated the interlock and applied power for about 15 seconds, accidentally irradiating some of my co-workers. Two seconds later, my supervisor came down the ladder, wide-eyed, asking me if I was radiating. Seems there was an indicator lamp that lit up on the dish. I just said, “Nope, just doing a check".
I recently moved back to Toronto, and while I was living away, I had dinner at a minister’s house that my aunt and uncle were friends with. The minister had the same name as a good friend of mine from Toronto. Unfortunately, I entered the minister in my phone under the identical name as my friend.
Three months later, when I was back in Toronto, I tried to get a hold of my friend via text. The first text I sent clearly stated that I was back, asking him to come out and meet me at the corner of “Shut Up” and “Shut your mouth".
I wondered why he was not replying, so I checked the number. Suddenly, my blood ran cold. I had sent that to the minister's cell phone. I didn’t hear a reply, but without a doubt, I know he received that text.
I was playing frisbee with some friends in front of my dorm in college and took off at a full sprint. I had my head turned, watching the frisbee, and I looked forward just in time to run straight into a flag pole and knock myself out. I was wearing sunglasses at the time, which luckily didn't break, but the corner of the sunglasses gouged a huge cut just to the left of my eye socket, and I had to get 21 stitches.
It was really hot, and the classrooms didn't have AC, so a lot of people were having class outside. They could hear the "DING" from across the quad. After that, at parties, girls kept asking me if I was a fighter.
I got a runner's rash after doing my first ten-mile run. I let it fester for about two to three weeks before I got medical help. It was all over my gooch and to the right and left of my nutsack. Every step I took felt like I was tearing the area, and every time I stood still, it felt like there were ants nibbling on it. It also smelled like fish because of the baby rash ointment that I used to try to stop it from getting worse.
I finally went to the student health center, and I prepared myself for an older person to take a look at my junk. Whenever I had been to the hospital in the past, I had never been examined by someone who wasn't old. I walked in, checked myself in, then the nurse came in. As expected, she was an older lady and started asking me about the "damage", which I explained to her in good detail.
Then, she started asking me about my weight, height, and other random things that she typed into the computer. When she was done getting her information, she said, "Well...that's that. I'll bring the doctor in". I was thinking, "What!? Why can't she just check it out and get this over with"?! Then, the doctor came in, and my jaw dropped to the floor. She was beautiful and dressed to impress.
At first, I thought it was a joke because she was just so darn hot. I thought that maybe the older doctors put her up to this because she was recently out of school, and they wanted to give her a hard time having to look at my stuff. She asked me some questions and then finally said, "I'm going to leave the room for a bit, so why don't you get undressed and ready for me"?
I responded with an "Ok" and snickered in my head because she made the situation a lot more suggestive than it already was. I took off my clothes, jumped on the weird examination bench, and covered myself with the sheet of paper she gave me. The doctor came in and said, "Well, let's take a look, shall we"? She pulled the paper away with her gloved hands.
My heart started thumping hard. She slowly traced my inner thighs with her fingers and ran them all the way to ground zero. My heart started double timing. She chuckled and told me everything was going to be alright. When she finally saw the damage, she gave out a sympathetic sigh, grabbed my balls, and said, "Oh, you poor thing. These will look wonderful after I help you out".
I began to get excited and let out a nervous chuckle. When she was finally done, she told me that I had a couple of fungal infections and that it was a wonder that I managed to fight the pain as long as I did. She gave me a prescription for my rash. I said my thank yous and goodbyes and left. After using the whole bottle, my infection was better but not fully cured.
I went to the pharmacy to get a new bottle. They told me to call the nurse and ask her for a go-ahead to get a new prescription. When I made the call, I told the person on the line about my rash. Here's where it gets interesting—I had no idea the person on the other end was the hot doctor. She said, "Oh, it's you! I remember you! So it isn't fully healed? Well, how about we have another check-up? The first time wasn't so bad. This way, I know that I am doing my job well".
I agreed and went back to see her. During that visit, she was handling my stuff even more generously, and she stayed in the room to watch me undress. I told her that I didn't mind her being in the room, so she took a seat and watched me. She gave me a new prescription, and it did the job. After the rash was cured, I was happier than a pig in mud.
So, I decided to write the hot doctor a thank you note. I gave it to the front desk, and the next day, I got a call from the doctor herself. She asked me if I wanted a final check-up, and I joked around that she just wanted to see me again. We talked for a while, and I decided, "How about I just throw myself out there and ask her out" so I did. She laughed and accepted my proposal.
I’m a guy. Back in 11th grade, my best friend who I’d known for a long time was also my crush. She’s really nice, and is my current girlfriend. So, it was the day that the town carnival came. I was shirtless and was wearing nice jeans. I forgot to wear underwear, though, and the jeans were pretty loose on me. It wasn’t that bad, I just pulled them up from time to time. You can see where this is going…but it’s probably much worse than you think.
All of my school classmates were there, hanging out, and we decided to go on that ride that shoots you up in the air vertically. We went on that ride, and as I shot up, I noticed my pants were a little loose again. I couldn’t pull them up this time because of the seatbelt. Then, we kept going up and down faster—and my pants slipped down right to my ankles.
I was very high in the air at this point and tried keeping the jeans on my feet, so I could easily pull them up when the ride was over. Instead, they FELL ALL THE WAY DOWN. Probably 100 feet down. I was completely pantsed by this ride, with no underwear. Meanwhile, I was sitting next to my crush, and she hadn’t noticed anything…yet.
When the ride was over, everybody saw what happened, which was the most embarrassing moment of my life. I didn’t stick around. I ran across the town fair to the parking lot where I had my car. The worst part was that when I got to my car, I didn’t have a change of clothes, and I had given my best friend/crush a ride.
The fair was 20 minutes away, so I couldn’t call her or text her because she had my phone. I had thankfully left the car unlocked, so I could wait in it. After a few minutes, she came and sat in the car. It was pretty awkward, and she said she understood what happened.
She said I could cover myself with her sweater, so we drove back, nobody talking. We got to my house and I asked if she wanted to hang out, and she said yes, so I got some clothes on and we spent the rest of the night talking as I cried on her shoulder about how embarrassing it was.
When I was about nine years old, my year went on a school ski trip. One night while I was in my pajamas after coming back from the showers, I thought it would be a good idea to give my friend a fright while she was walking back to our dorm. Wet towel in hand, I waited for footsteps coming round the corner. My other friend who was on watch for me gave me a raised eyebrows look of caution and walked back to our dorm.
Me—the idiot who assumed this meant my friend was coming—screamed “RAWRR” and whacked the towel at the person walking around the corner. That person was the head teacher. I whacked the head teacher with a wet towel. She then yelled at me and the whole year probably heard. I didn’t talk to my friends for the rest of the night.
I just picked up my contraceptive pill prescription from my doctor (I live in Australia) and was filling it at the pharmacy. There were a few people waiting but my name was called fairly quickly to pick it up. I paid and was given a pen to sign for the script. This is where I messed up. The pen I was given started to run out of ink and I was struggling to sign.
The pharmacist looks at me and says, "Oh, is it working for you?" Me, thinking she was talking about my CONTRACEPTIVE PILL, decided to pat myself on the stomach and go, "Well yeah I hope so". The other man there waiting for his script could NOT stop laughing and the color drained from my face.
Then I realize. The pharmacist then said, "I meant the pen..." I made a hasty retreat and cried when I got home.
When I was 17, I was having a lot of intestinal distress. So, along with a ton of other tests, my gastroenterologist scheduled me for a colonoscopy. As anyone who has had a colonoscopy will tell you, the actual procedure is far less unpleasant than the preparation, which involves taking powerful laxatives with each meal for the three days leading up to the day of the procedure.
Two nights before the colonoscopy, I woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee. I knew I needed to take a dump too, but I was tired of doing so eight times a day for 20–30 minutes at a time. So, I was just going to stand in front of the toilet, pee, and go back to sleep. I lifted the seat, dropped my trousers, and sneezed. Then, I realized what I had just done.
In short, there was an eighteen-inch diameter circle of mess spray-painted on the wall two feet behind me. I was exhausted, so I sketched a biohazard symbol on a piece of paper, taped it to the bathroom door, and went back to sleep.
When I was a kid, my family and I used to go to this private pool reserved for service personnel. My brother and I were about 10 and 12, respectively, and swimming in the shallow end of the pool. There was a pretty young woman in a two-piece suit with pale white skin talking to what looked like her grandfather.
She raised her hands above her head to give him a poolside hug. The hug turned into a lift as he tried to pull her up and out of the pool. He did it so quickly that her suit bottom slipped down to her knees.
She immediately went into a convulsive shake to get back into the water, but the old man just continued to try to lift her out. It was only a wet behind, but it was a blissful sight that has been indelibly burned into my preteen mind.
I lived with my “aunt” and “uncle". We're not blood-related in any way, but I had known him my whole life and his wife for the last few years. I got home one day, walked in, sat on the couch, and started reading a magazine. I could hear the shower running. It stopped, and I heard the usual noises of somebody getting ready. All of a sudden, I heard, "TA-DA!!!"
My aunt hadn't realized I was home and ran into the room to show off her newly bare self to who she thought was her husband. I lowered my magazine, yelled, and immediately raised the magazine back up in front of my face as she ran back out of the room. It was extraordinarily awkward for the next few days, but now she makes jokes about it, so I think we're good.
Today my younger brother, who is 10, was giving me a feet and leg massage because he wanted to play Uno with me and I was not in the mood. He was being very sweet, so I made a video of him doing it to send to my mother. But what I did instead was send it to my school group.
Five minutes later, I received a call from my teacher informing me about that video and another teacher saying not to send these videos in the group. I quickly deleted it and typed an apology message. The worst part is that the video contained some sound of him trying to get me to play and me refusing. I was also wearing shorts and the video was made from an angle that makes it look like my legs were bare. UGH.
My co-worker gave me a lift to the supermarket today, as I needed to stockpile some food for the upcoming week. I loaded my cart up with the essentials. I’m legitimately negative in my bank account right now, and went to pay using my credit card in the self-checkout section. It declined. A really hot worker came over and asked if everything was okay.
Me (sweating buckets out of pure shame) had to tell her that my card declined. The look of disdain she gave me made me want to jump out of a window. My friend covered the cost of the food (around $60) and I promised to pay him back this coming week.
But darn, I can’t help but feel so weak. He has the same job I do, yet is doing SO MUCH better than me. He’s married to a beautiful woman, has a nice car, owns a LITERAL HOUSE at 23. Yet here I am, needing to be taken care of like a child. I feel ashamed of the fact that I’m not fiscally responsible enough to take care of my own problems and get my life together. Everyone else can. Why can’t I?
The subway train was pretty crowded, every seat was taken, and every pole was occupied too, so I was holding onto one of those overhead handles with one hand while doing stuff on my phone with the other hand. As we were stopping at a train station, I decided to let go of the handlebar and rest my arm a bit.
Unfortunately, I didn't notice there was a kid behind me and I hit him with my hand right into his face. Kid started crying, his mother got really upset, and everybody on the train was staring at me...I've never felt so embarrassed in my whole life!
When I was about 15 years old, I woke up one day, and the tip of my schlong started to hurt when I went for my morning pee. I got really worried as I hadn't experienced the joys of a romantic partner yet, so I went straight to the doctor. The usual guy was not in, but there was a cute-looking female doctor who was available. At that moment, I knew things were going to get awkward.
Needless to say, I was a bit shy, but I really wanted to see if everything was okay down there. She asked me a few questions about my (lack of) romantic activity, then told me to show her my little guy. Using every ounce of willpower to force myself not to get hard, I complied while she held it there, inches away from her face.
Back when I was in middle school, I was on the floor in my room naked while playing some video games. At one point, I strained a muscle in my chest and couldn't get up. Realizing that I couldn't help myself off the floor, I came to a horrifying realization—my dad would have to come home from work, pick me up off the ground, and bring me to the emergency room. I told him it was just a chest muscle strain; he still doesn't know how it really happened.
When we first moved into our apartment, strangers would regularly walk in the front door daily. I guess the people who lived there before us ran a business or Bible study or something. People were often holding Bibles, and sometimes they had kids with them. My then-boyfriend—now husband—wasn't used to locking the door.
As a result, there were a few awkward moments of being caught in pajamas or eating dinner. One day, we were loud while getting busy in the afternoon and came into the living room to find our door wide open. Someone had left in such a hurry, they neglected to shut the door behind them. We finally got in the habit of always locking the door after that.
I was working the register at a buffet restaurant during lunch, and it was busy. I had approximately 12–14 people in line and probably 160 diners in the restaurant. I noticed that a couple of guys in line were snickering and trying to get my attention like they were going to do something really funny. I didn’t pay too much attention and proceeded to take care of the next customer in line, who happened to be a full-figured lady.
I asked my usual questions, including, "What would you like to drink today?" To everyone's surprise, one of the guys blurted out in a loud and sophomoric tone, "She NEEDS to have a Diet Coke". At that exact moment, the entire restaurant froze, like in the movies. The guy and his buddy were howling. Everyone turned and looked at them. The lady I was helping turned around and asked, "What did you just say?"
The guys were immediately poker-faced. Then, out of nowhere, another lady, who also happened to be full-figured, walked up to the register and shouted, "I knew when I heard your voice you were going to say something stupid. What is wrong is wrong with you? OOH! You saw my car parked right in front and you thought she was me, didn't you?
“That is why I divorced you. You're an idiot! Apologize to this lady and get out of here". The guy and his buddy apologized and left. Everyone in the restaurant was stunned. The ex-wife also apologized to the lady and even offered to buy her lunch. It was awkward.
I'm a lifeguard. On our rotations, we have to walk through the locker rooms to make sure people haven't passed out in there. I worked the morning shift at 5:30 am, and usually, it's just a bunch of old ladies. Some like to use the family changing room, which has a few private rooms and a co-ed locker hallway. The other day, I stumbled upon a shocking sight when one of the older ladies, who was about 70, decided to "forget" that it was co-ed.
She started showering in one of the private rooms but left the door open to the hallway. I was on autopilot and was doing my rotation. I started walking through, heard the shower, and saw the light on. I kind of guessed what was going on, but I was in robot-walking mode and just walked by.
Luckily, I realized what was up in time to walk by the door quickly and keep my head straight. However, I still get fears about what I saw out of the corner of my eye.
I once had to take my daughter to the ER because she had stomach pains under her ribs, and we thought it might be her gallbladder. She was bent over, crying, and in a lot of pain. Once we were in the ER, the doctor pushed on her stomach and her face turned bright red—she let out a massive amount of gas. She then said she was feeling better, so they discharged her. I didn't know a girl could pass gas like that. She was 15 at the time, so we still bring it up at family gatherings.
I had a horrible ear infection along with a terrible throat ache. I wasn't eating or drinking anything and mostly just laid on the couch like a lifeless fish in summer. After a couple of days of my illness getting worse, my mother decided to lug me to the doctor. I sat on the table feeling insanely tired as the doctor ran down the usual questions. Finally, she inspected my throat and ear.
She came to the conclusion that I would need an injection. As she explained to my mother what it was, my mom's face changed, and a smile came onto her face as she was going to tell me the glorious news. She told me, "Honey, this shot doesn't go in your arm". The doctor smiled uncomfortably as my mom told me the needle would be heading straight for my rear.
So after a couple of minutes, the nurse came in. He was a pretty good-looking dude. He told me to lie down on my stomach. Down went the pants and in went the needle. My mom tried to cover up my crack, but it was no use.
This happened about 10 years ago. It was my friend's bachelor party. We’d organized for a topless waitress through a party company to attend for two hours and serve drinks. She arrives late and can only stay for one hour, but to make up for it she agrees to take off all her clothes for the hour.
She walks out of one of the bedrooms after taking her clothes off and gives the groom a big hug. From the back of the room a guy goes “What in the world”?! That's when we made the most shocking discovery. It’s the best man's sister. No clothes, in front of all his friends.
She runs off crying and we just all stand there for like 10 seconds in silence before we laugh our butts off. She lives about an hour away and apparently told the family she worked in hospitality, but nothing more specific.
My now ex-wife and I were doing fertility treatments, and they wanted a sperm sample to count. They gave me a script and told me to go to the local hospital for their lab. I walked into the hospital and gave the young pretty desk nurse my scrip, and she gave me a cup. She told me to go into the single-person bathroom in the waiting room and fill it.
I asked her again to make sure she meant that one, and she said yes. So, I made my way through the waiting room filled with various aged people into the single person waiting room and into the bathroom to fill the cup with my procreative fluids. I quickly filled it as fast as I could, washed my hands, and brought the cup back to the front nurse.
I sat down and waited about five minutes before she called my name. Walking up, I felt like everyone was staring at me, knowing what I had just done in the bathroom. But it was even worse than I thought. She looked at me and said there was a mix-up, and they don't do that here. She asked me if I wanted my sample back, and I declined and just turned around and left.
In high school, I was on the verge of sleeping with my girlfriend for the first time, who also happened to be my neighbor. The scene was set perfectly, both my parents were gone (dad was out of town and mom was working until nine) and I had just asked her to prom that day...So things are getting hot and heavy, and all of a sudden I hear a noise downstairs, but assume it's one of my cats wreaking havoc as usual.
Things continue and about a minute later my (extremely conservative) mom walks in, and as the door opens she lets out a faint scream and runs downstairs. BUSTED. Now while this moment was awful enough, after going downstairs to face my mother who had immediately called my (also very conservative) dad, she goes on a rant about how irresponsible I am and how protection doesn't always work, and I'm proof of that.
So that's the story of how my relationship was ruined (just got really awkward after that) and I found out I was an accident. Maybe the act itself isn't anywhere near as embarrassing as some of the ones on here, but I swear the situation made it mortifying.
My little brother once went to nursery and told his teachers about how his dad acts at home. To demonstrate, he pretended to drink from a bottle, loudly said "glug, glug, glug" and then fell over backward. But my stepdad hardly ever drinks, especially not at home.
I’d moved to New York for a big promotion. The most senior people at the company were feeding me drinks at my welcome party on an empty stomach, and I kept just obliging. I went with my former boss, new wife, and two other senior executives to a restaurant after the initial welcome drinks, and I was absolutely blasted.
I didn’t make it to the toilet and threw up all over the washroom. Then when I walked out, I walked into the kitchen by mistake. I walked back to our table then stumbled when I got there. Still, the worst was yet to come. My wife ordered me a burger. I took one bite and hurled, yes, fully hurled, into my dinner plate in front of the entire restaurant.
I spent the next three months being teased. It was definitely embarrassing but a good way to start with a story, I suppose.
When I was about 18 years old, I went into the doctor’s office because I was experiencing some extreme nausea, among other things. He kept asking me if it was possible that I could be pregnant, over and over again. "So, uh, could you possibly be pregnant? Maybe we should run a pregnancy test".
"Pretty positive I'm not," I responded. He then asked, "When was the last time you had intercourse"? I replied, "Uh... never"? He started laughing and shouted out, "NEVER"?! At this point, he suddenly whipped his head around to face me from behind his clipboard. "Oh, haha, wow, I had no idea. That simplifies things a lot"!
Was that really necessary??
It’s true what they say: money makes the world go round. In order to succeed in this life, you need to have a good grasp of key financial concepts. That’s where Moneymade comes in. Our mission is to provide you with the best financial advice and information to help you navigate this ever-changing world. Sometimes, generating wealth just requires common sense. Don’t max out your credit card if you can’t afford the interest payments. Don’t overspend on Christmas shopping. When ordering gifts on Amazon, make sure you factor in taxes and shipping costs. If you need a new car, consider a model that’s easy to repair instead of an expensive BMW or Mercedes. Sometimes you dream vacation to Hawaii or the Bahamas just isn’t in the budget, but there may be more affordable all-inclusive hotels if you know where to look.
Looking for a new home? Make sure you get a mortgage rate that works for you. That means understanding the difference between fixed and variable interest rates. Whether you’re looking to learn how to make money, save money, or invest your money, our well-researched and insightful content will set you on the path to financial success. Passionate about mortgage rates, real estate, investing, saving, or anything money-related? Looking to learn how to generate wealth? Improve your life today with Moneymade. If you have any feedback for the MoneyMade team, please reach out to [email protected]. Thanks for your help!
The Moneymade team
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