Posts Tagged ‘sticky situations’

Describe your top three most embarrassing moments. In detail.
That would be the first question. Let me first say that I had to go through my mental list of embarrassing moments and pick out the ones that were not completely mortifying, and that I hadn’t already blogged about.


So I was taking my French exam. (Yes, already you can tell this is going to be a Mike Daniels story of epic proportions. Buckle up.) Part of it was oral — like you had to go out in the hallway and recite a story to the teacher in French. Normal foreign language class stuff, right? But let me tell you something about me and reciting French stories.


Major update on the Mike Daniels front. No, he has not declared his undying love for me. (Any day now. My horoscope says the planets have aligned for romance.) No, instead 1) I embarrassed the hell out of myself in front of him; I don’t think I could be more humiliated if I tried… bearing that in mind, 2) he just got a scholarship to the college I’ve been wanting to go to my whole life. Also, 3) he might be gay.


Okay, confession: I never think before I speak. I think that rule was invented to be ignored by people like me.


Yes, you read that right. The arachnaphobic girly girl who can barely crush ants actually killed a spider. Well, to be fair, I didn’t do it intentionally. It’s kind of a funny story. So gather ’round, chillins, and I’ll tell you about the time I killed a spider with my ass.


FML.

11May09

Are any of you familiar with fmylife.com? If not, you should check it out. If your day is just one big pile of suck this is guaranteed to make you feel better. I mean, sure, we all have those days from time to time. But wow. There are bad days, and then are bad days. [...]


I never thought I’d morph into one of those girls who turn into babbling idiots around hot guys, but, well, I did. See, my parents are best friends with our neighbors. And they have a son who’s a year older than me. And he has a friend named Peter, and Peter’s the hot one.


Today was one of those days. To start the day off right, I couldn’t drag myself out of bed, so with ten minutes until my ride got here I threw on jeans and sweatshirt and ran out the door. Unbeknownst to me, the temperature was going to be 72. Seventy frickin two. And while everyone was wearing cute skirts and tank tops, I was sweating like a whore in church in my lovely “Eskimo in a blizzard” apparel.


Then a food fight broke out. Never again will I use mashed potatoes for anything but their intended purpose. Because between you and me, getting a mashed potatoes/chocolate syrup/unidentified meat chunk combo deal out of your hair is a bitch.



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