Ever have those embarrassing moments that will haunt you for the rest of your life? Of course, you do! Do you ever want to share them online with strangers? Probably not! Well for some reason, these folks did! Check out these downright cringe-worthy memories from people who have no shame.
What Happens In Target Stays In Target
“I was in Target, it was around 8:30 pm and it was almost closing time for the store. I was around the foods section browsing their fruit snacks – Gushers, Fruit Rollups, etc. It was the back corner of the store so it was relatively isolated and uninhabited.
I feel a gurgle in my large intestine and an all-too-familiar pressure on my sphincter. Seeing as I had gorged myself with Taco Bell earlier in the day it was finally surfacing to rear its early stages of retribution through the portal of my b-hole. I stopped walking for a second, hearing only the faint music over the loudspeaker and the beep of the cashiers across the store, looked up and down the aisles and found myself alone.
It was then time to concentrate. A large gaseous bubble was forming inside and was trying to get out. I placed a hand on the display shelf for support, lifted one foot slightly and contracted my butt. The bubble began to escape, resulting in a thunderous ripple, vibrating my posterior to its very core. The sound was unearthly, like a wet sheet being torn in half. It was a fart that lasted almost five full seconds (one Mississippi, two Mississippi, etc) It was so loud and so satisfying that I felt truly out of breath and sweat had broken on my forehead. The smell was from that of rotting corpses with a hint of eggs and broccoli.
I was sure to stand for another few seconds to make sure I didn’t poo my pants and that I had farted the full fart – because I’d rather fart for five seconds now rather than smaller farts at bigger intervals. I retrieved my Fruit-by-the-Foots and Doritos and walked away from the aisle, to come across a little old Chinese lady with a basket full of groceries. She was still, bundled up in a big parka jacket and snow boots, with one gloved hand up to her face, plugging her nose. Her eyes squinted at me with such disgusting disdain that even serial murders and rapists would feel remorse upon receipt.
I froze for a second, unsure of what to say or how to react. Contradicting thoughts flooded my head in such a speed that would crash a server in the Pentagon. Should I apologize? No, that would mean I was the one who farted. And I would never own up to it. But wait, I DID fart. But maybe she didn’t smell it. Well duh, idiot, she’s plugging her nose, obviously she did smell it. But why should I apologize? Even if I was the offender, farts are normal. But she was so quiet and did nothing to make her presence known. So what?
I just ended up awkwardly saying, ‘Hi,’ and quickly walking past her. I’m sure the speed that I walked caused the fart winds to blow faster against her face. Seriously, the smell could’ve stripped the paint off of the side of a battlecruiser.
Good thing I didn’t see her again in the checkout line.”
A Moment That Still Keeps Him Up At Night
“Okay. This is a situation that honestly still keeps me up at night.
When I was in high school (over 10 years ago) I was very much into this girl. I was always at her beck and call. She would literally have me come over to get her off and make me leave. Much like I’m assuming what girls experience with boys. I didn’t mind but I kept hoping you know-She would like me. I was actually head over heels for her since she was my first girl to do anything serious with.
One night she had left me hanging for a few hours so I decided to skip my shower, my shave, and everything else because of course she was blowing me off again. I went into my living room, my parents were asleep, and started playing a game. Shortly later I got a message from her saying to come over. She also hinted tonight was THE NIGHT. I was about to get my peen touched.
I then realized I skipped my shower and hadn’t shaved. Down there. What little experience I did have at that time I knew that girls didn’t like a big mess down there so I was very set on making sure it was picture perfect down there.
I didn’t have much time though. She pulled that whole, ‘Be here in 15 or I’m going to bed.’ So I did a hobo wash and started shaving away at my balls. Luckily nothing was cut off at the rate I was going. I cleaned up as much as I could that it was acceptable and then wiped up the mess in the bathroom with a towel and headed out.
Well, I get there and this chick asks me to go get sonic. I do. Just for her. She ends up eating a double burger in bed while watching The Wedding Singer on her laptop that’s resting on her chest. This was fine, I mean it was weirdly beautiful but it was also like omfg she just wanted a burger. So, after listening to her quote THE ENTIRE MOVIE where she laughed hysterically at her impressions-I decided I needed to scrape together what dignity I had left and just leave.
Anyways. I get home and go to sleep. I wake up in the morning and my dad has already left for work and I’m getting around to get ready for school. My mom comes in and says,
‘Hey, I hope you were safe last night. Can you please make sure not to leave a towel full of your pubes in the bathroom?’
I literally was shocked and just stared at her. I guess that morning my dad woke up and took a shower and thought my mom placed the towel out for him. So when he got out, still wet, he wiped off with basically all my pubes. THEN my mother had to go in there and help sweep it all away.
I was extremely embarrassed and couldn’t look my dad in the eyes for like months.”
This Poor Dude
“My sophomore year of highschool I had a crush on a girl that I had a class with. We’d talked a few times but I didn’t know her that well. It was around Valentines Day and our school did a thing where you could pay $10 and student volunteers would go sing a song you picked, in class, to whoever you picked, and give them a card.
So instead of approaching her like a normal person for a date I decided to go with the singing Valentine. I plunked down my $10, signed up, and started getting extremely nervous about the next day.
That afternoon I told my friend what I’d done and he started laughing. And laughing. More than if he were just laughing at a bad idea. Finally he told me that the girl had a boyfriend, he was a senior, and I was an idiot.
The next morning I explained the situation to a friend of mine that was involved in the program and after he finished laughing he told me it was too late, singing assignments were out, it was going to happen. My only hope was that, since singers and time are limited, they wouldn’t get to mine, which is a thing that would sometimes happen and you got your $10 back and not humiliated.
So our class together rolls around (which of course I had sent it to that one) and I start watching the clock. A couple other people got the singing Valentines but with about 10 minutes left mine still hadn’t come.
Then the door opened. And instead of the one person with a boom box we normally had there were three. One was the guy I had begged to cancel it, who gave me the biggest smile as they set up.
Now, song options had been limited. This was before streaming existed so it was just what they happened to have CDs of. I honestly didn’t know most of the songs, and didn’t want to go sappy, so I went with the one higher tempo song I knew: Wild Thing.
So they announced who the Valentine was for and she blushed, I’m sure assuming it was from her boyfriend. They started singing and she blushed harder. They handed her the card that I had written my name in and her face stopped being pink and went far more red. She looked over at me and all I could do was shrug. After they left she said, out loud, “But Chuy, I have a boyfriend!” and then everyone knew it was from me. I just muttered that I’d found out too late and happy Valentine’s Day and I’m sorry.
That was the most embarrassed I’ve ever been.”
Now This Is How To Make An Entrance
“In high school, the homecoming dance was coming up. I happened to confide that I had a crush on a popular girl to another girl in my math class. Unbeknownst to me, they were very good friends and this girl offered to put in a good word for me. The next day she told me my crush would totally say yes if I asked her. So in between periods I found my crush in the hallway, asked her to homecoming, and she said yes! Booyah.
Well, homecoming is on Saturday, today is Thursday. My crush, her friend and I go to lunch together and I offer to pay in the hopes that will make her like me even more (Yes, I was bad at this). She tells me she wants two bags of chips, a burger/fries, and a small carton of chocolate milk. No problem. I go to the cafeteria and get those items like a boss. For some reason, I decided to jog over to her even though that really only shaves off like 10 seconds from my trip. I have two bags of chips in my mouth, one hand with a burger and fries, the other hand with a carton of chocolate milk.
The girls are sitting in the common area. The common area is carpeted, adjacent to the cafeteria which has a tile floor. these rooms are separated by a relatively small metal line on the floor. As I meet that line, my left foot catches on the metal. No problem, I have another foot, I will just swing that foot forward real quick and save this. Nope, the other foot also catches. As I fall straight forward I instinctively try to catch myself with my hands. Well, one hand has chocolate milk in it which promptly bursts, sending chocolate milk in every direction.
My other hand didn’t help me either, slips on the burger in the bag and the fries go all over the place. The last thing to break my fall is my own face. The face with two bags of lays potato chips in my mouth. Do you know the jokes about lays chips being full of air? they are true. As my face collided with the ground, both the bags of chips exploded at the same time. It sounded like a firework. somehow one of my shoes flew off.
I tried to melt into the floor and fade out of existence for a moment, then peeled my chocolate milk and chip soaked face off the ground. this happened at the meeting point of the common room and the cafeteria, so everyone in both rooms either saw or heard this fiasco and looked over. about 100 students. It’s deadly silent for another couple seconds, and then the laughter. Dear God, the laughter. It was like a jet engine. Every person there was laughing the hardest they have ever laughed in their whole lives. I saw the janitor doubled over laughing, bracing himself with a mop handle.
A teacher was trying to walk over to help me, but she stopped every couple feet to use her whole body to laugh at me. All of this happens not 10 feet away from the table in which my crush and her friends are sitting. Everyone is having a great laugh, but my crush has the greatest laugh of all. She has fallen to the ground, with one hand bracing herself on her knees. the other hand is clutched at her ribs as she laughs so hard that no sound comes out, wheezing like an asthmatic dolphin.
There is no recovery from this. I walk to the bathroom to clean myself up. The teacher could only manage to hand me my shoe along the way and continue laughing. In the bathroom, the laughter didn’t die down at all for what seemed like an eternity. When the bell rang I was still in the bathroom, and people were still laughing.
While I spent the whole day wallowing in easily the most embarrassing moment of my life, I thought well maybe I’m the funny guy now and she will like that. The next morning I see my crush before class and she walks up to me.
‘So homecoming is tomorrow,’ she says.
Eager to totally not talk about the trainwreck yesterday, I just excitedly say ‘Yes, yes it is.’
She then delivers a crisp ‘So this guy that I actually like asked me to go to the dance. So I’m gonna go with him.’
To which I replied ‘Ah, yeah, that makes sense.’
I totally did not go in the bathroom and cry after that.’”
I Wonder If She Kept Her Job
“I was a hibachi server. We used these little bottles to squirt sake into people’s mouths. This one night I had a party of like 20 people. After the show and everything, the owner goes up to the table and asks them if they had a good time. One of the customers jokingly says ‘I don’t think we got enough sake!’
The owner then hands me two bottles and asks me to go back to the kitchen to fill them with sake. So I run back to the kitchen and see two boxes of ‘Sho Chiku Bai’ sake. One of them has sharpie writing in Japanese all over it. This will become important in a moment.
So I randomly pick a box of sake to fill the squirt bottles with, and the manager and I ask them ‘Who wants more sake!?’ Several people kind of cheer because they’re hammered so the owner starts rainbowing sake into one person’s mouth, while I do the same to another patron.
Suddenly the patrons’ eyes go wide just as I notice something strange. Under the harsh lighting, the liquid I’m squinting into this young woman’s mouth is…glistening.
The mystery liquid also looks quite shiny running down her face and onto the front of her sundress. So I stop spraying the ‘sake’ at her as she swallows and shrikes, ‘Ew, what the heck was that?!’
I blink and make a terrible discovery. It was vegetable oil.
The Japanese writing said vegetable oil.
I do not read Japanese. Oops.”
They Shared A Moment (And Biscuit) Together
“This actually happened to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train.
I’d gotten the time of the train wrong. I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of biscuits I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind. Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee and packet of biscuits.
There’s a guy sitting opposite me, a perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird.
What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up my packet of biscuits, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now, this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with.
There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your biscuits.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been helicopters coming in, CNN, you know. . .
But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end, I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened.
I took out a biscuit for myself. I thought, That settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another biscuit.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around.
‘Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice . . .’ I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this.
When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight biscuits, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one.
Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away. Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back.
A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my biscuits. What the heck is wrong with me.”
A Public Speaking Nightmare
“About six years ago, I was working as an Account Manager for my previous company. I had a portfolio of clients for who I was responsible, maintaining relationships, dealing with complaints, attending events, etc. All of that fun stuff.
I was invited to an evening event a client of mine was hosting, which was a networking thing with a series of little talks/seminars throughout the night. I used to go to these all the time so it wasn’t a big deal.
At this particular event, the client had asked if I could do a Q&A-type thing about the subject my company specialized in. Again, no biggie….usually you just sit in a room and answer some easy questions, most of which you’ve been asked 1,000 times before. I never really bothered preparing for them, as they became a little bit routine.
So I and my boss turned up to this event in a typical nonchalant fashion, expecting it to just be another one of these easy-breezy things we could just sleep-walk through and load up on some gourmet buffet food. But it turns out we didn’t read the invite properly, as we were disastrously under-prepared. And that’s putting it mildly. It was an absolute car crash, is what it was. I’ve been in an actual car crash and honestly preferred it.
Basically, we were ushered (along with about 200 other people) from the reception area where everyone was schmoozing to this large auditorium with a stage. On the stage was a podium and four chairs, one of which was for me. My boss took his place in the audience and I was ushered to one of the seats on the stage, my palms sweaty and my buttock area increasingly moist.
I rapidly learned from the other three people on stage that we were supposed to give 10-15 minute presentations in front of the whole audience, who were all sitting facing the stage. Just a sea of expectant, unfriendly, judging faces.
I was scheduled to be the third person to speak, and I watched in horror as the two people speaking before me conducted REALLY GOOD speeches, complete with colorful PowerPoint presentations. They had stats. They had figured. They had jokes.
In, in turn, had nothing. Not a PowerPoint presentation. Not a laptop. Not even a pen. Nothing. Sitting on the side of the stage awaiting my turn, I knew I had about 20 minutes until I had to speak and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say I had less than about three minutes worth of improvised gibberish in my head. At best. It was as if I had been bundled onto the stage and instructed to give a TED talk with no warning. I don’t think it would have been that much more terrifying if I had been up there wearing nothing.
I genuinely considered just silently standing up from my seat, walking off stage, and just keep on walking. Out of the venue. Down the street to the tube station. All the way back to my house. Into my bedroom where I could turn my phone off, close the curtains and climb into bed and just never explain to anyone what happened. As a 28-year-old man, that was honestly my best idea.
But no. When it was my turn to speak, even as I stood up to walk from my seat to the podium, I still didn’t know what I was going to say. I was just thinking: ‘well, here I go. If I just open my mouth, maybe something good will fall out and it will all be fine.’
It did not and it was not.
I can’t remember specifics because I was awash with fear, anxiety, adrenaline, and shame but I DO remember long periods of awkward silence interspersed with timid mumblings which must have made almost no sense in the context we were in. At one point I cracked an industry-specific joke which I was certain would get a big laugh, but it fell completely flat which knocked ANY tiny fraction of confidence I had straight out of me. It was kind of like Jerry’s ‘Hungry For Apples’ presentation in Rick and Morty, only about 1,000 times worse.”
Careful Down The Bunny Slope
“I was 13, and my family and I were on a skiing holiday. My parents had decided to sign me up for lessons so that my dad could get some good skiing in and my mum and sister could relax and drink hot chocolate (my sister had broken her wrist a few weeks prior to leaving and my mum isn’t really a winter sports fan.)
I had been throwing myself down mountain slopes with about as much grace as a brick, with the tutor occasionally griping about said demeanor, and was exhausted. We had time for one more run, so we all waddled over to the T bar machine. This imaginatively named device is so-called because a metal bar, shaped like an upside-down T, hooks below your butt and drags you upwards so you’re not constantly climbing for ten minutes and skiing back down in a few seconds.
Somehow, my jacket got caught on the bar, which knocked me to the ground. This is not the embarrassing part.
It then dragged me along the snow, past where I was supposed to ski off, and carried on along a very icy patch towards the mountain where it would turn back. Still not the embarrassing part.
The embarrassing part was when the rough ice dragging under me somehow managed to pull down my ski pants, thermals, and underwear, exposing my bare butt to an entire slope of people and giving me a nasty ice/friction burn all down my thigh. Also, I was yelling my head off to get someone to stop the machine. A lot of people saw.
I was helped up and off the ice, and skied down to the bigger lift to take me back down to the hotel. I cried the entire way down.
The real kicker was getting back, telling my family this story (while still sobbing through the wounded butt and wounded pride) and having my dad and sister howl with laughter while my mum desperately tried to comfort me.”
“My Life Is Pain.”
“My middle school did a program where a bunch of Japanese students came to visit our school for a couple of weeks. I was assigned as a buddy to show someone around and stuff, and at the end of their visit here, they all took a trip to NYC. Only a few of the American students came along, but I was among them. The Japanese teachers wanted to be inclusive, so they took the mic that the bus driver uses to make announcements and kind of like awkwardly interviewed each of us in broken English, though the students didn’t seem all that interested. When it was my turn, I got the typical ‘What do you like to do?’ which I tried to shut down quickly with a simple ‘Oh i’m in choir, I like to sing sometimes.’
‘Oh, why don’t you sing for us!’ the student asked.
And suddenly, the mic is in my hand.
I really am not one for singing solos, especially in front of a BUS FULL of students who probably don’t know what the heck is going on. I guess the teacher picked up on this, so she encouraged me to sing a Christmas song because those are the only songs that the kids would be able to sing along to in English. So I’m thinking, okay, it won’t be too bad if they all join in right? So I start.
‘Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer!’ I belted.
I painfully sing the ENTIRE SONG, acapella, completely solo, all eyes on me. Finally, the pain ends, and I crumble into my seat as awkward polite applause ensues. But this wasn’t enough for the teacher. She wanted this to be a participatory event. And she didn’t care who had to suffer in order to make that happen. So what does she do?
‘Okay, try again, but this time everyone sings along!’ she commanded.
I pray for it to be a dream, but somehow, the mic is in my hand yet again, her expecting eyes upon me. At this point, all dignity is lost so I figure why not. Again, I start the song. And again, I sing it completely alone.
My life is pain.”