Tag Archives: embarrassing moments

Things Parents Do That Embarrass Us Even Though We’re All Grown Up

sex life mom ecard

At about 13 years old, my mom went from doing everything right to doing everything so very wrong. In fact, everything she did was either “so gay,” “so queer,” or “moooooommmmm, you’re so embarrassing.” (It was the 80s, I’m sure they say different things now.)  Anyway, it didn’t matter if she was singing the wrong words to Billy Jean or she sneezed at too high of a pitch, it was utterly unforgivable. And don’t even get me started on the things she did around my friends. One time, she smacked her lips while eating a bagel and cream cheese at breakfast with my besties after a sleepover!

Do you believe that?

Mortifying!

I’m sure those girls are still talking about her lip smacking to this very day. Frankly, it’s amazing we remained friends after that appalling display. Well, it’s a testament to my friends, that’s for sure.

That phase lasted for about 4 years. (It’s a phase I’m already dreading with my own daughter because well, there is just no winning, for the parent!) That said, my mom and I have managed to be the closest of friends throughout my life, but she’s still my mother, and there are still those moments when she says something that makes me cringe. You know the kind of cringe that makes your whole body pucker? The kind of cringe that makes you wish you could scour what you just heard from your eardrums with a piece of steel wool? That kind of cringe.

YOU PROBABLY LIKE: 20 THINGS WOMEN WOULD DO FOR THEIR BESTIES

Let’s start with when she says the word Continue reading →

I May Have Been a Preteen Stalker

Didn’t we all have adolescent obsessions that bordered on stalking or was that just me?  This story will make your embarrassing moments seem way less embarrassing!  It’s that bad, I’ve never spoken of it.

As you may have noticed from some of my posts, I have a flair for the dramatic.  I recall an experience of such exaggerated intensity with my first crush.  For the sake of the blog and the fact that some of my readers will know him, I’ll call him Eric, Eric Axel.  This pseudonym is not exactly cryptic, it‘s about 2 letters off from his actual name.  Look, I pursued him like an obsessed stalker, I’m sure it’s no surprise to him.

This was old school stalking I’m referring to.  Anyone and everyone stalks now a days — moderen technology: cell phones,  FB,  twitter,  my space, youtube, linkedin — it’s not even impressive.  No, I’m talking about the kind of stalking that took time and effort and premeditation, something to tell your grandchildren about.

So, I’m gonna rip off the Band-Aid, that is this repressed memory, and let the healing begin.  I was in the 7th grade … Continue reading →

The Most Embarrassing 80s Moment You Never Had | But I Did

Actual skates - oh, I keep them for parties and stuff! No, seriously.

Actual skates – oh, I keep them for parties and stuff! No, seriously.

The other day I was attempting to parlay these NBC segments I’m doing into a piece for a national magazine.  As I typed away, touting myself as an “expert,” trying to seem way more important than I actually am, and rambling on about my amazing qualifications to an Editor in Chief (whom I shouldn’t have been writing directly in the first place), Eddy Grant’s “Electric Avenue”came on and I was immediately transported to SKATELAND in Cockeysville Maryland, circa 1984.

It was Girl’s Skate and the disco lights had taken over the floor.

Now, if you’re unfamiliar with roller skate culture, Girl’s Skate is the precursor to Couple’s Skate.  During Girl’s Skate, your job, as a girl, is to look as totally awesome as possible.  You have to rock your Flashdance style off-the-shoulder-shirt with splatter paint detail, and your acid-washed jeans.

The boys watch from around that short wall AND If they likes what they sees, they put out a hand for you to slap.  The “hand out” also implies that they would like to Couples Skate with you.  SO, if you think the boy is cute, you slap his outstretched arm, buuuut if you think he’s too dorky, you hold your hand super close to your body in an overly dramatic fashion that says: “I’d rather be caught dead than be seen skating with you.”

Yep, it’s an exercise in fostering self esteem.

On this particular day, I had my eye on a very cute older boy; he may have even been a preteen!  I spotted him from across the crowded rink, as my dad laced up his skates trying to catch up to my speedy entrance.

Oh, I didn’t mention that my dad skated with me every week?  How could I forget that detail, this story is about how cool and awesome I was, right?

There I was, doing my best tricks:

  • The speed up and glide.
  • The Shoot the Duck (crouch down and stick one leg forward).
  • The professional leg cross weave around the corners.

I looked around at the outstretched arms, while Electric Avenue played in the background.  As a sensitive kid, I was an equal opportunity slapper.  So, I’d slap the hand of anyone that put it out there.  Well, unless they were super nerdy and everyone else was avoiding them, obviously!

Then I spotted him, that cute preteen.  He looked bad.  I mean, good — bad. He probably drove there on his motorized bike…  Skates hanging from the handle bars and a switchblade style comb in his back pocket to flush up his mullet.  He was definitely from the wrong side of the tracks. You know, like Matt Dillon in Little Darlings

Matt dillonI noticed that he wasn’t really offering his hand to too many girls and in a defensive action, started to skate towards the middle.

As I got closer, he did it.  He eyed me and then threw out his hand.

Holy crap, that’s for me and now I’m so far on the inside I’ll never make it, and then we won’t get to Couples Skate.  I won’t be able to hold his hand, which I’m sure will be cool and big, not small and sweaty, like the other boys I always couples skated with.  He may even be good enough to do the envied backwards hands on hips skate! My life is officially over.

Move Jenny, move!

I weaved through a few of the slower girls and reached as far as I could to touch even a fingertip.  Then in a crushing blow he pulled his hand back and pretending to slick his hair.  Holy shit, he gave me the “psyyyyych,” before the “psych” was actually invented!

To add insult to injury, my arm had overstretched to meet his teasing gesture.  I felt myself going down.  Think slo-mo in some cheesy 80‘s film, “Ohhhh Nnnoooo.”  I grabbed at the short wall to pull myself in ricocheted off it and slammed straight to the ground a few feet away from him.

Yep, COOL, I was!  (if you say that with a Yoda accent, it has the truest effect.)

I got up quickly and ran to the bathroom to cry in a stall, while Couple’s Skate started without me.  Seriously, it just began like normal, as if the most horrifying incident had not just occurred on that concrete slab of rejection.

I remember the song perfectly, it was Air Supply’s, “All Out of Love”  I also remember the pain.  Oh, the pain and the “uncoolness.”

“I’m so lost without you.”

Apparently, you can’t get too cocky in Cockeysville or anywhere, because someone will put you right back place. Unfortunately or maybe fortunately, I’ve been put in my place more times than I care to remember.

Even as an adult, a simple song can bring back an experience that sends you to rock in a corner.  I guess you’re supposed to dust yourself off and get back in the ring or the rink as the case may be.

So back to my pitch:
Dear Editor in Cheif – I AM A kick ass writer and I’m not half bad on a pair of skates…

PS : I got that job – eat your heart out mullet boy, everyone knows rat tails are like way hotter anyway!

BE AWESOME, SHARE THIS POST

BE AWESOMER, TAKE ME SHOE SHOPPING

Join the fun on Facebook

Enter your email address for notifications (I promise not to hock Viagra):

 

Total Humilation on the Roller Rink, circa 1984

You know when you’re feeling a little big for your britches? (Using that phrase alone should nullify anything I’m about to say.)  Then you get a flashback, a glimpse of some past experience that is earth shatteringly embarrassing and the universe puts you right back in your place?

Well, here I am trying to parlay this “CBS Expert Mom” thing into a piece for a national magazine.  I am at my laptop touting myself as an “expert,” and trying to seem way more important than I am.  Just as I am rambling on about my amazing qualifications to a senior editor, whom I shouldn’t be writing directly in the first place, Eddy Grant’s “Electric Avenue” comes on the radio.  I am immediately transported to Cockeysville Skateland circa 1984.  Its Girl’s Skate, the disco lights take over the floor.

Now, if you are unfamiliar with roller skate culture, “Girl’s Skate” is the precursor to “Couple’s Skate.”  During “Girl’s Skate,” your job, as a girl is to look as cool as possible.  You have to rock your shirt with the iron-on decal, those jeans with a comb sticking out of the back pocket, and those leg warmers you shoved up over them to add a “Flashdance” effect.  The boys watch from around the rink and if they likes what they sees, they put out a hand for you to slap.  The hand out also implies that they would like to Couples Skate with you.  If you think they’re cute, you slap their out-stretched hand.  Yes, it is an exercise in self esteem.  Years of this did quite a number on my psyche.

On one particular day, I had my eye on a very cute older boy; he may have even been a preteen!  I spotted him from across the crowded rink, as my dad laced up his skates trying to catch up to my speedy entrance.  Oh, I didn’t mention that my dad skated with me every week?  How could I forget that detail, this story is about how cool I am right?

Here I am doing my best tricks: The speed up and glide,  the crouch down and stick one leg forward, the professional leg cross weave around the corners.  I look around at the outstretched arms, More than a feelin, should be my background music.  As a sensitive kid, I am an equal opportunity slapper.  So, I slap the hand of anyone that puts it out there, unless they’re really dorky and everyone else is avoiding them, obviously! Those poor kids go home and make “kill lists,” or comfort themselves with their Star Wars figurines.

Then I spotted him, that cute preteen, he looked bad.  I mean good bad. He probably drove here on his motorized dirt bike with his skates hanging from the handle bars and a switchblade hiding in his pocket.  He was definitely from the other side of the tracks. You know, like Matt Dillon was in Little Darlings. I noticed that he wasn’t really offering his hand to too many girls and in a defensive action started to skate towards the middle.  As I got closer, he did it.  He eyed me and then threw out his hand.  Holy crap, that’s for me and now I’m so far on the inside I’ll never make it, and then we won’t get to couples skate.  I won’t be able to hold his hand, which I’m sure will be cool and big, not small and sweaty, like the other boys I always couples skate with.  He may even be good enough to do the envied backwards hands on hips skate! My life is officially over…Move Jenny, move. I weaved through a few slow girls and reached as far as I could to touch even a fingertip.  Then in a crushing blow he pulled his hand back and pretending to slick his hair… Shit, he gave me the “psyyyyych.”

To add insult to injury, or in this case injury to insult, my arm had overstretched to meet his teasing gesture.  I felt myself going down think slo-mo in some cheesy 80’s film.  Ohhhh Nnnoooo, I grabbed at the wall to pull myself in and slammed straight into it, then ricocheted off, and slapped to the ground.  I am SO COOL!  I got up quickly and ran to the bathroom to cry in a stall, while reading about who is ez, and who loves whom 4-ever.  “Couple’s Skate” started without me, as if the most horrifying incident had not just occurred on that concrete slab of rejection.  I remember the song perfectly, it was Air Supply’s, “All Out of Love” or maybe Journey’s “Open Arms,” or some ballad  by Foreigner or Styx.  I also remember the pain, oh the pain and the uncoolness.  Apparently, you can’t get too cocky in Cockeysville, cause someone will put you right back in your insecure, struggling, awkward place… where you belong.  Unfortunately, I’ve been put in my place too many times than I care to remember.  Even as an adult, a simple song can bring back an experience that sends you to rock in a corner.

Dear Senior Editor- I am a lowly writer, eh forget get it.