Have You Ever Been Mortified?
And had to keep the good face going?
I was mortified tonight. I shouldn't even write about this but... I can't help myself. It's too funny.
Tonight I was invited to an HRC event. Big fundraiser in Boston. I've been to a bunch of events- lousy food, lots of people, no big deal. Not tonight. I had a problem.
Jeanine and I met with some folks before the event in the bar and had a cocktail. The ice melting like mad, but I don't notice, I'm engrossed in conversation. I usually hold my glass... well... in my lap.
I stand up after the hour and oh my god. I had an enormous wet spot - where? My crotch. Great. I'm so embarrassed I can't see straight. I go to the ladies room- I'll take the pants off and blow dry them with the hand dryers.
ONLY THERE ARE NO HAND DRIERS. Just useless paper towels.
I'm mortified. I can't dry the enormous wet stain my cocktail glass has created. I look like I wet my pants. Or my water broke.
Ooops, I'm pregnant. must have sat on a bad toilet seat. my mother warned me... me and Sarah Palin. Or one of the Palin's.
I pace. I panic. I finally go out to Jeanine- she's alone- oh my god. I have to leave.
It's fine, she says.
IT'S NOT FINE I HAVE A HUGE WET SPOT.
No, really, it's fine.
We go upstairs.
I have an enormous wet spot and then I see Walter and Allan.
I didn't know it was black tie event. Allan, of course, is in a suit. Walter? black jeans and a shirt.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck. I set them up. I didn't know but I should have.
Fuck.
I'm sitting there with my jacket buttoned- did I mention I've had my period for about three thousand weeks in a row and hot flashes and the idea of a jacket is beyond me let alone buttoned.
But there I am with a GIANT WET SPOT- now drying- and I have to have my jacket buttoned. Hot flashes. Get me a cocktail, sweet jesus. Did I mention this is for HRC?
Finally, Walter, Jeanine, Allan and I circle. We all ridicule Jeanine's decision to bid on the most god awful ugly lamps. Fair play- Jeanine then points out my need for Depends. We ponder an instant auction item of Depends.
My pants are nearly dry by now. I still want to die.
I hate these events. But if I seemed exceptionally off? MY FUCKING PANTS WERE WET. I should have listened when my mother tried to teach me how to sit like a lady.
And I ended up with the ugliest lamps in the history of man. Oh, don't worry. When we get them? I'll upload some pictures.
I was mortified tonight. I shouldn't even write about this but... I can't help myself. It's too funny.
Tonight I was invited to an HRC event. Big fundraiser in Boston. I've been to a bunch of events- lousy food, lots of people, no big deal. Not tonight. I had a problem.
Jeanine and I met with some folks before the event in the bar and had a cocktail. The ice melting like mad, but I don't notice, I'm engrossed in conversation. I usually hold my glass... well... in my lap.
I stand up after the hour and oh my god. I had an enormous wet spot - where? My crotch. Great. I'm so embarrassed I can't see straight. I go to the ladies room- I'll take the pants off and blow dry them with the hand dryers.
ONLY THERE ARE NO HAND DRIERS. Just useless paper towels.
I'm mortified. I can't dry the enormous wet stain my cocktail glass has created. I look like I wet my pants. Or my water broke.
Ooops, I'm pregnant. must have sat on a bad toilet seat. my mother warned me... me and Sarah Palin. Or one of the Palin's.
I pace. I panic. I finally go out to Jeanine- she's alone- oh my god. I have to leave.
It's fine, she says.
IT'S NOT FINE I HAVE A HUGE WET SPOT.
No, really, it's fine.
We go upstairs.
I have an enormous wet spot and then I see Walter and Allan.
I didn't know it was black tie event. Allan, of course, is in a suit. Walter? black jeans and a shirt.
Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck. I set them up. I didn't know but I should have.
Fuck.
I'm sitting there with my jacket buttoned- did I mention I've had my period for about three thousand weeks in a row and hot flashes and the idea of a jacket is beyond me let alone buttoned.
But there I am with a GIANT WET SPOT- now drying- and I have to have my jacket buttoned. Hot flashes. Get me a cocktail, sweet jesus. Did I mention this is for HRC?
Finally, Walter, Jeanine, Allan and I circle. We all ridicule Jeanine's decision to bid on the most god awful ugly lamps. Fair play- Jeanine then points out my need for Depends. We ponder an instant auction item of Depends.
My pants are nearly dry by now. I still want to die.
I hate these events. But if I seemed exceptionally off? MY FUCKING PANTS WERE WET. I should have listened when my mother tried to teach me how to sit like a lady.
And I ended up with the ugliest lamps in the history of man. Oh, don't worry. When we get them? I'll upload some pictures.
posted by Sara at 10:46 PM
11 Comments:
And this is why I love your blog.
(And yes, I feel HORRIBLE for your complete mortification earlier.)
/me never laughed or even smiled at your story.
/me never tore the seat right out of his pants in Colonial Williamsburg causing the people on the bus to think I was a horrible pervert.
knowing all of you, i laughed my ass off reading about the night. i can just hear allan saying, "you didn't tell us it was a black tie event"!
if those lamps are that awful, they better not end up in maine, either place!! LOL
That was great-- I think the best thing to do with those situations is definitely to laugh about them.
Not I'VE ever had anything remotely like that happen to ME, of course ....
oh, donald, they have to go SOMEWHERE else. they are NOT going in my house.
I mean...UGLY.
and allan was, of course, in a fabulous suit- he was fine. it was poor walter that I felt so bad about.
Honestly, I did not know it was black tie.
You just gave me the best laugh (not at your expense, mind) that I've had in a miserable ten days. I sympathise because I've found myself in such situations. As for the lamps, eBay?
oh, no. the lamps are now cherished probably because I whined so much about them.
ouch stop can't breathe.
it pays to be introverted don't have to worry about that type of thing lol.
ttfn
OMG! Thanks for the laugh.
I think laughing about things like this helps you thru.
Put the lamps on Ebay....people by anything there.
Laughter - definitely the best way to defeat mortification. Thanks for the laugh!
"That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger"
Yeah, didn't do much for me either. My Mom told me that in reference to when I lost my bathing suit top to a rope swing 50 feet above the water in front of half of my graduating class. To this day I am referred to as "Jane" by my classmates at every class reunion.
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