Sunday, February 12, 2012

More embarrassing moments

An ironic thing about this blog - written for fun, definitely for free and without any pressure that is not self created - is that I somehow feel guilty about missing the last two weeks when I was busy traveling, helping out my insignificant other who had surgery and doing other things. I was pleased to hear from a couple of friends that they actually noticed. According to Google, there were 57 page views here last week of which I am not sure how much are spam, but probably up to 40%. But many of the other 60% are people who entered something in a Google or other search engine and I popped up. I've tried it myself after I've written a post and it actually works.

I'm going to start easy on myself by writing something autobiographical, which is really much easier and what I usually do when busy, as I don't have to look anything up or do any research. Some readers prefer the autobiographical posts, maybe because they are usually so humiliating to me, but they are not my favorites.

Nevertheless, here's a slew of yet more embarrassing moments (previously, I’ve written on my past dating life [12/17/11], some of the dumber things I've done - in fact, life threatening things  [6/10/11] and embarrassing childhood moments [10/24/08]). These are all from my adult life:

Me, thief

I've made it a point in my life to try and not to take things that don't belong to me. But, I do own up to stealing some little rubbery animal figures when I was 4 (I turned myself in to my mother), too many pens to count (albeit accidentally) and I still don't understand the internet well enough to know whether, like probably everyone, I goof all the time - arguably that is not theft.

But, one day about 3 of 4 years ago I went to the State law library in a court in Suffolk County New York. I did a bit of research and spent a few minutes getting helped by the reference librarian, who I knew as a very nice and helpful man. At one point, I was using a very well known reference book, of which almost all of the material in it could be found in the internet. I was walking around the library, looking at other books and carrying that one book in my hand together with a notepad. Eventually, I finished up, made my copies, put the books away and left.

As I exited the library, I passed a few people sitting on a bench right outside of it. I made a right turn and headed down a hallway. Now, I had not been to that library in a long time or I would have remembered that this is not the way to get off the floor. You had to walk a little further down the hallway and go down the stairs or use the elevator. But, I headed down this other corridor until I got to the door at the end. When I opened it, the alarm went off. I immediately recognized my mistake and turned around, shutting the door. I walked back down the corridor to the main hallway and made a right, passing the 3 people on the bench, made another right into the stairwell and proceeded down.

When I was almost out the door I heard a voice above me - "Excuse me."  Turning around, I see the reference librarian standing at the top of the stairs. "That's my book." What? I look down and see my legal pad in my left hand. "What book?" "That one," he says, and points to my left hand. I look at the other side of the legal pad, and there is the popular reference book I was using.

I don't know what I said. I stammered. I said it was a mistake. Something like that. He completely dismissed my apology and just demanded the book, then stormed away. I was humiliated. I would never, never steal a book deliberately. I was a book lover. I was a library lover. I was . . . so embarrassed.

Clouseau strikes again

The late Peter Seller's bumbling, accident prone character, Inspector Jacques Clouseau, in Blake Edwards' hysterical Pink Panther movies, was one of the great performances in movie history. I spent much of my childhood with friends mimicking his faux French accent and moronic actions. Later, as an adult, I was able to more than once act it out myself - unintentionally.

In 1994 I was working at a company with a really cute and very young secretary on whom I had a big crush. One day she asked me to come over to her house and give her parents some legal advice, which I was glad to do for them. After we were done, she, dressed in sweats, walked me to the door. We stood there talking. At the time I was on a "break" from my relationship and it occurred to me to try and, you know, kiss her. Over my shoulders appeared the proverbial angel and devil. The devil was saying "Go ahead, and kiss her." The angel was saying "Are you crazy? Her parents are here and she works with you." At one point her mother walked by and said, "David, don't forget that our driveway is all broken up at the bottom." "Okay," I said.

The angel won, and I walked out the door. But, I wasn't unhappy. I was deliriously joyful from spending a few minutes with her alone outside of the office as I walked down the walk and towards the end of the driveway. So happy, in fact, that I did my habitual throwing of my keys into the air with an extra bit of verve and watched them drop back down to me. Unfortunately, with my eyes to the sky, I tripped over the broken concrete that I had actually been warned about, pratfalling right on my face. I rolled over, but lay there, hands covering my eyes, saying to my self. . . Please don't be watching. Please don't be watching.

I peeked. Of course, she was watching. In fact, she couldn't stop laughing.

Not another key story

Long time ago I am walking down the street in a commercial area. I always had this weird habit of throwing my keys up in the air and catching them for no apparent reason, just like in the prior adventure. That day, I threw my keys up in the air and caught them. Threw them up and caught them. Through them . . . .

I was passing a restaurant and suddenly, seemingly randomly to anyone watching, walked into the door.

"May I speak to the manager?"
"I'm the manager. What can I do for you?"
"I have to go on your roof."
"Why in the world?"
"I threw my keys up there."
"Oh, sure."

He was really very nice about it. Nice view from up there too.

The treadmill incident

While I still lived in New York I worked out at a small gym. I was usually the only man in my Pilates classes, one of which was taught by a 22 year old former professional ballerina, who was not only smoking, but had one of those sweet Doris Day type faces and personalities. I had a lot fun in those classes (always good to be the only man) and we were friendly with each other, though she was literally half my age. One day she was sitting next to me talking while we waited for the classroom to empty. She mentioned that she was tired of dating jerky guys her age and wanted to date older men. Not unhappy to hear that, I hopefully, but kind of kidding said "You mean like someone say 44 years old?"

To which she replied "Ewoooooh. I mean like 26."
To which I replied "You could have left off the Ewoooooh part."
"Sorry," she said. "It just slipped out."

But that's not the story here, just the intro. One day I was at the gym on the treadmill doing what passes as running for me when she finished up a class and came out of the exercise room. Seeing me on the higher level she walked over, climbed up onto the treadmill next to me and turned perpendicular to me to talk. I have to add here that I have a little nerve problem in my left leg and when I try to run (rare enough) I really had to pay attention and make sure I plant my leg each step. A few minutes went by and I may have been a wee bit distracted by her attention.  So, put the two together, and . . . whoops. I went flying off the treadmill backwards.

Fortunately, she was a trained athlete and as I traveled backwards past her with my arms flying out to grab anything, she reached out with her own right arm and grabbed my left. I actually did not fall down. I stumbled backwards off the treadmill with her following along supporting me. I came to a rest on my feet on the floor next to her.

You know in a movie where the camera slowly pans out and you are thinking - well, obviously he would see more than that in real life. Well, that's the way it actually happened here - slowly. I looked at my left arm, which she was still holding, and then all the way down to my hand, which, unfortunately, had come to rest . . .

. . . right on her breast, actually cupping it. I couldn't have done that on purpose if I had practiced. I looked at my hand, still in slow motion. I looked up at her eyes slowly look down to my hand too, also in slow motion. Then I looked in her eyes and did what any self respecting adult male would do in that situation. I screamed like a little girl and ripped my hand off of her, covering my mouth.

And then she laughed. Me too. Good thing she had a sense of humor. You know how when you were young you might laugh with a friend forever until you couldn't breathe. That's what happened. It is possible 10 minutes went by before we stopped. 

The Rose

Long time ago I was dating a woman maybe a month and it was her birthday. I went to see her in the city and after I parked I saw a Moonie on the street selling roses. So, I bought her a single rose, thinking it was kind of romantic.

She lived in the penthouse over a six story walk-up. When I got to the bottom floor there was a delivery man there with a bouquet of roses. You see where this is going, right?

She buzzed me in and he came in too. I walked up a flight of stairs. So did he. I did another. So did he. And . . . we got to the penthouse. I was standing in front of the door with my pathetic little one stem flower. She opened the door and exclaimed "Oh!" And then she looked slightly to my left at the smiling delivery guy with the dozen in his hand and said "Oyyyy." Something like that.

She was actually very nice about it. Left the dozen roses outside her door and put my single flower in a vase. I didn't put this in my bad date post a few weeks ago (Cherchez la femme) because it actually was a nice date.

No socks is supposed to be a cool look

I didn't realize how many of these would be about women, but this one isn't.

I was a young lawyer. A friend of mine happened to live in apartments right next to the office building I worked in.  One night, I forget why, I slept over there and walked to work in my suit, tie and Oxford shoes.

There I was working in my office when one of my bosses walked in. We were talking for a while when he happened to look down at the floor. He looked at me puzzled and then actually took my hand. He walked me out of my office and into the lobby area where the secretaries sat.

He stood me in front of them and grabbed both of my pants' legs. Then he raised them.

I had forgotten to put my socks on. And I was wearing Oxfords???? Can't explain it; don't know how it happened. Just did.

Reasons to leave work early

I was working at a law firm which had a meeting every night. I was kind of overweight and I went to pick up something on the floor and I heard a long ripping sound. My pants. There I was in an office of maybe 40 people and I was going to have walk past a lot of them. So, I called the boss in and literally showed him my riiiiip.

Then I tied my jacket around my waist and went home.

At the time, I worked with Don, who comments here sometimes. He went to the evening meeting, which I, of course, missed. Someone said - "Did David go home sick?"

To which my buddy replied - "No, he went home fat."

Nice guy. Embarrassing for me though.

Me, exposer

Last one. I was a law student and had an internship at a local firm. One day they asked me to go to the County Clerk's office and get some papers. So, I dressed nicer than usual with a pair of slacks and a button down shirt.

I walked into the clerk's office and pushed open some double doors. A young woman was passing by and gave me a really nice smile. I felt good about that. I guessed I looked nice for a change.

Then, I walked into another room and another woman gave me a nice smile. Wow. I must have really looked good.

And then I passed a third woman who did not smile. She gasped and looked straight at my crotch. I looked down. Not only was my zipper open, but the flaps on my pants were also spread wide open under my belt.

I ran all the way back to my office, my usual embarrassment defense reaction in full gear, laughing like a madman. I entered my office and in front of the 60 something year old secretary collapsed onto the floor and couldn't speak for minutes.

Ahhh, those were the days.


  1. I'm glad you are back to fulfilling to fulfilling your primary purpose in life which is blog writing.

    Even though I knew about most of these incidents they did make me laugh out loud; mayby not for 10 minutes but for a good bit.

    And for your readers' benefit it should be pointd out that while you may have to "go home fat" 17 years ago you are now a svelte greek god from all your working out. You should point out the contrast.

  2. Actually, more like an Egyptian god, as I have an animal's head.

  3. You know, these would be hard to believe if I did not know you. As you say Frodo, those were the days.

  4. I am spared from many more such moments these days by being rather solitary. Trust me, I regularly blunder into ladies' rooms and all sorts of embarrassing situations when give the opportunity.


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About Me

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I started this blog in September, 2006. Mostly, it is where I can talk about things that interest me, which I otherwise don't get to do all that much, about some remarkable people who should not be forgotten, philosophy and theories (like Don Foster's on who wrote A Visit From St. Nicholas and my own on whether Santa is mostly derived from a Norse god) and analysis of issues that concern me. Often it is about books. I try to quote accurately and to say when I am paraphrasing (more and more). Sometimes I blow the first name of even very famous people, often entertainers. I'm much better at history, but once in a while I see I have written something I later learned was not true. Sometimes I fix them, sometimes not. My worst mistake was writing that Beethoven went blind, when he actually went deaf. Feel free to point out an error. I either leave in the mistake, or, if I clean it up, the comment pointing it out. From time to time I do clean up grammar in old posts as, over time I have become more conventional in my grammar, and I very often write these when I am falling asleep and just make dumb mistakes. It be nice to have an editor, but . . . .