Embarrassing Things I've Done

Toe Touch Class

When I got to college, I rushed a sorority, which is basically a sleepover club on crack. There were lots of activities to participate in, and one of our busiest times during the school year was Homecoming. (I will talk about Homecoming a lot- not only did I actively participate in college, I now help plan Homecoming Alumni events in my full time job)

When you’re Greek, there are specific competitions that can either make or break you. One of them is Cheer and Dance. Performed the night before the Homecoming football game, all of the Greek houses are slated to perform a Cheer and Dance routine, which they are scored on and adds quite a bit of points (if they win) to their overall Homecoming score. The girls and boys are separate, so it’s basically a waste of time because they boys have humor, strength, and skill on their side. Nevertheless, it’s a big fucking deal and all the houses practice about 15 hours a week for about a month (on average) for the competition. 

I decided when I was a Freshman that I was going to participate in this competition with all of my new sorority sisters. This is back about 35487329 years ago and girls and guys were paired together. We were matched with a great fraternity and although I was placed in the back row I had a really good time and I made a lot of friends and memories. We won that year and it was incredible. 

(Side note: I have always always wanted to be a cheerleader. There was a time in my life, specifically JR High where I would plan and plan to try out, and then I never would because I was scared and let’s face it I wasn’t born a dancer. Cheerleading is basically my white buffalo, the one that got away. I will never have a chance again to wear a cheerleading uniform except for Halloween. May my teenage dream RIP) 

Sophomore Year: I decide that I wanted to do cheer and dance again, but this year, the guys and girls were separated. This means basically signing up for this competition means signing up for 15 extra hours a week of your life sitting in a gymnastics gym, listening to an older member yell at you and tell you you’re not doing anything right, and by the end of the week you are about ready to kill yourself. This is not a fun experience. Until you compete and then you win and it “makes it all worth it”. We did not win my Sophomore year, mainly because guys can be funny and girls can’t. Also because I was stuck in the back row again. 

Junior Year: I was on Homecoming Board, which basically means I ignored all Greeks, stayed in the Student Life office all week with the rest of Homecoming Board and played iCopter on my new iPhone. It was awesome. 

Senior Year: This is the year I ran for Homecoming Queen, and I decided that since it was my senior year I was going to do Cheer and Dance one last time (plus good publicity for my campaign) a few of the seniors were going to do it with me and we had a close group of friends to ride to and from practice which was 45 minutes away. This is where my embarrassing moment takes place. This year we had a “cheer coach” which was basically a retired Cheerleader named Taylor. Taylor was awesome and so encouraging, plus he threw RAGIN’ catered parties at his house. By this time, Taylor had been coaching us for 3 years and he knew what our abilities were and what they weren’t. That last semester I had taken a Musical Theatre dance class, along with a HipHop seminar once a week. I was pretty confident that maybe I’d get first or second row this year. 

The first thing the leadership had us do was a toe touch. They would then RANK US, and then set the formation according to how high we could jump. 

Uh…. what? 

Okay, so they didn’t tell us that they were ranking us, but I snuck a peak at the computer and saw a spreadsheet with everyone’s name on it. Obviously they were planning to do something with it.

So, of course I’m dreading this moment. I stepped up to the girls (and Taylor) in charge of this little toe touch assignment, and I just go for it- I flailed my arms and legs in the air and maybe did something that might have resembled some kind of jump. Then I was like - 

“WAIT WAIT LET ME DO IT AGAIN” 

Panic was coursing through me, I had to get this right, I was a senior, I needed to set a good example. What kind of Homecoming Queen can’t do a proper toe touch? 

So I went to jump again, and I did the same exact thing. I guess cheerleading just isn’t in my blood. 

I’m embarrassed in front my my whole sorority, and although I was a good member and a funny person, I couldn’t even handle that simple jump - but here’s the worst part- I looked at my rating later and saw that I received a 1 from the team.

“A ONE. ONE OUT OF WHAT. HOPEFULLY ONE IS GOOD AND FIVE IS BAD.” 

But that wasn’t the case. I received a rating of 1 and I lost Homecoming Queen. Tough week. We also got Second in the competition. But I reveled in the fact I would never have to participate in C&D again, although I was a little sad. It was a part of my college experience and I would do it all over again if I had to. 

-M

(Next Post: Crash) 

Harry Potter vs. Jesus

I’m currently typing this in the Arizona Sky Harbor airport and the final Harry Potter movie has been released as of midnight last night. I have not seen it yet as I’ve been at a conference for my job (no, contrary to popular belief, blogging is not my job.) I have successfully cut off myself from all things Potter. I deactivated my Facebook in May (for distraction reasons), I signed off Twitter as of Wednesday night and I set my group chat to NOT notify me if someone sent a message. I bought my ticket for tonight at seven and after that I plan to reintroduce myself to the outside world. So, since the final movie has been released and I am not at all prepared for it, I decided to discuss a Harry Potter related embarrassing moment.

The summer after my Freshman year is when the seventh Harry Potter book was released. I decided that in preparation for that moment I was going to read all of the books before I read the last one. I worked in a Sno-Cone stand that summer so it was easy for me to read on my downtime. Thats when I realized that I really loved the books more than I had previously thought and I became kind of obsessed. Yes, I had read them all when they came out in the summers but I have never really appreciated them.

That next semester I also started taking full blown English courses because I had changed my major. One of the classes I took was British Literature Before 1800. It was my first class with a professor that I would grow to really love throughout my time at school. He was funny, nice, a GREAT teacher and he used pop culture references all the time so naturally i loved going to that class.

We were studying The Canterbury Tales, in particular, The Pardoners Tale. The whole story centers around Death personified. I thought that this particular reading was really interesting and I was hanging on every word my professor said. He was engaging the class and everyone was answering questions.

He then threw a discussion question at us. As we were talking about the character that survived the grips of Death as a human being, he then asked this question to the entire class:

“Who is the only character in history to have survived death?”

Everyone was quiet for what seemed like forever. I kept thinking in my head the answer, but surely someone would speak up and we could all discuss it. Finally after contemplating it in my mind I yelled out the answer -

“HARRY POTTER” I yelled from the back of the class;

…at the exact same time my professor said…

“Jesus Christ.”

The ENTIRE class erupted in laughter and I sunk as low in my seat as one could go. (Oh spoiler alert obviously but if you haven’t seen the books or read the movies you clearly have been living under a rock the past 10 years.) (And I guess spoiler alert on the Bible too…)

Then, to add insult to injury, my professor said, “Did someone just say Harry Potter?” to which every single person in the class turned their heads to look at me and I think I even saw one person point and snicker. 

The class resumed as usual and I know that for the rest of the semester I was going to be labeled as the weird girl. So I embraced it and sat in the back and never spoke again. I think I ended up getting a B…

-M

(At the current time of posting I have seen the last Harry Potter film. Let’s just say I lost it in the theatre and was audibly sobbing for about 45 min. Not cool calm collected in the slightest)

(Next Post: Toetouch Class)

Gas Station Flasher

Obviously by the tone of this blog, being embarrassed comes very easily to me. Sometimes it’s the way I act, or sometimes it’s how I used to dress, or the fact I did something stupid when I was drunk. This time- circumstances beyond my control led the universe to hand me this embarrassing moment on a Friday night, putting me rightfully in my place and making sure I never visited the gas station on 15th and Santa Fe ever again in my entire life. 

The Scene: Friday night, 10 pm. My friend Jess and I were planning on going over to another friend’s house to hang out, have a chill night, eat and drink, play hide and go seek, and other various merriment. 

The Place: Nameless gas station, Oklahoma, America.

Let me set this up for you. I was wearing jeans, (Okay, jeggings. Men, they’ve gotten so good at making them I bet you can’t even tell the difference anymore. And that’s a wonderful thing.) and a black tube top, with a cardigan over it. Jess pulled into the gas station and I walked in, and went to the back to grab two cans of Diet Coke from the top shelf of the fridge. I walked THROUGH THE ENTIRE GAS STATION and came to the register where a very surprised looking Indian man was looking not into my eyes but at my chest. He then POINTED AT MY SHIRT (without saying anything) I looked down and realized that my tube top had fallen down and my entire bra was exposed to GOD AND EVERYONE AND THE GAS STATION. 

…You haven’t lived until you’ve had that experience. 

After quickly pulling up my shirt, I paid for my cokes and ran out of there, where Jess was waiting in the car. I then simultaneously broke out into tears and rapid laughter, while Jess sat there looking very shocked. 

The fact that I was alone, and no one told me that my shirt had fallen down, and I was buying Diet Cokes made me feel like God was playing a sad, sad joke on me. I never went back to that gas station, and it made a pretty funny story while we drank our Diet Cokes that night (I put rum in mine). 

-M

(Next Post: Harry Potter vs. Jesus)

Party Crasher

(A Note: I’ve decided not to do these embarrassing moments in chronological order. One, because I’m not sure I could even PUT them in order of the time they happened, and Two, I really just don’t want to. There are some things I just can’t rehash on certain days. I feel like it’s okay to relive this particular embarrassing moment today, it just feels right.)

I had a great time in college. Better than I expected, really. Whenever I was a freshman I decided (on a whim) to rush a sorority. I ended up becoming a part of a great group of girls, and meeting the friends that I am still close with today. But the fact that I was Greek also attributed to many of the moments that I will be sharing with you. Crazy things just happen whenever you get a whole bunch of hormonal college students together, if you know what I mean.

When I was a senior, I was up for Homecoming Queen. The way that Homecoming Royalty is decided is every student organization puts up a candidate, and then those candidates go through a rigorous interview process. After that, 5 are chosen and then they begin to campaign, relying on a combination of votes from the student body and their scores from the previous interview.  I was chosen by my sorority (which is actually kind of an honor because there were so many girls that were qualified in my class) and then I went through the interview process and came out in the top 5. Along with 4 other girls, and 5 other guys, including The Ginger. 

Now let’s take a journey back to my Freshman year when I was a young impressionable pledge, and I had just broken up with my HS boyfriend (Bar Manager X). The first guy that I liked in college, I mean REALLY liked, was The Ginger. He was nice, funny, and totally different from BMX. He never wanted anything serious though, and I was stuck having a crush that would never go anywhere. The summer before my senior year, we had kissed under the influence of alcohol, and I guess that I had never really let it go, because by the time Homecoming came around, I was wishing that we were going to ride in the same convertible in the Homecoming Parade. It was like the dead freshman inside of me had risen and taken control of my brain. 

I think it might have all came to a head that week, when on Wednesday of Homecoming my car had a tire blowout on Chowning, and I was sitting in my car crying when he passed me, turned around, and helped me get my tire fixed. I guess I’m a sucker for when a less-than-average guy does something that’s pretty much expected from the male race. 

You know when you’re younger and there’s things that really matter to you and you’ll literally die if they don’t work out your way? That’s how I felt about Homecoming. I’m not ashamed to admit that I really, really, wanted to win. And I wanted The Ginger to win too, so we could kiss on the football field and go off and live happily ever after. 

But then you realize that life isn’t fair, and we BOTH lost Homecoming King and Queen. Ironically, this isn’t the embarrassing moment that we will be discussing today. I promptly left the football game, went to my room in the sorority house, and cried in my bed for about 30 minutes. Then, one of my sisters that was 21 offered to buy me a bottle of Tequila for that night and I started feeling a little better. You can probably see where this is going. 

The way that Homecoming worked at my University is a Fraternity and a Sorority were paired together to work on the float, thus spending every waking moment together, and lots of friendships and romance comes out of it. Then, after Homecoming is over, the different teams have after parties. (stay tuned for the Spring Sing 2010 After Party story) It’s common etiquette that you don’t attend a party of the team you were not a part of. The Ginger’s Fraternity was paired with our rival Sorority, so that made the stakes even higher. Annnnd here comes the embarrassing. 

When I was 20, I could shoot Tequila like it was water. Now that I am in my old age of 22, I’ve had too many awful nights (Spring Sing 2010 After Party) that I can’t really stand it anymore. But that night, the one where I lost Homecoming Queen, I took about 5 shots of Tequila and told my friends I wanted to go to the after party where The Ginger was. Nevermind that it was crawling with girls from our rival sorority, and where the reigning Homecoming Queen was. 

They RELUCTANTLY took me, and dropped me off, wasted. I stumbled into the party, and everyone turned their heads to look at me, and their mouths dropped open in shock. I don’t really remember what I said other than a lot about losing Homecoming Queen and saying “CONGRATULATIONS” a lot to everyone. I made my way around the party, embarrassing myself even more, when I met up with The Ginger, who was about as drunk as I was. We were standing on the front porch, and he leaned in to kiss me. But right before, he said - 

“I thought you should have won.”

and then I proceeded to say - 

“I thought you should have won too.”

When I think back on that night I often wonder, WHY WAS I ALIVE IN THAT MOMENT? WHAT WAS THE PURPOSE OF BEING SO DRAMATIC? Because we were on the SECRET front porch, about 15 people saw this interaction and exchange and proceeded to laugh about it in the weeks to come. When I think about that ratio of Homecoming Queen to the rest of my life, it really pales in comparison, but in that moment it was everything. 

I woke up that next morning, feeling like I was hit by a Mac truck, and feeling so embarrassed that I crashed that party and the way that I acted. It hasn’t stopped me from getting massively drunk and doing stupid things, but at least I haven’t crashed any parties lately. 

-M

(Next Post: Gas Station Flasher) 

Pirates vs. Cowboys

When I was in High School, I didn’t have many close friends. I moved in the middle of Junior High and had to make all new friends at my new school. This led to me having some interesting acquaintances, the kind of 14-year-olds that listened to Nirvana, smoked weed and painted pictures of their ovaries in their spare time. So needless to say when I got to High School and started Drama, I was relieved to see that I could be friends with (semi) normal kids.

And now let me contradict that entire statement by saying that the Drama Kids liked to throw massive theme and surprise parties whenever they saw the opportunity. One of the first parties I had been invited to was the surprise party of my first boyfriend, who we’ll call Bar Manager X. (Because he bypassed Community College and decided to become a waiter when he grew up) We were not together at the time.

In fact, I was invited by a Junior High friend who was much more involved in Drama then I was. I was on the outskirts, waiting to be invited in. I saw this as my chance. We drove to Wal-Mart to pick out our Pirate costumes, when all of a sudden and idea struck us.

Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we dressed up as cowboys instead of pirates?

(Let me just say that when I went to the Midnight Premiere of The Dark Knight, there was a guy there dressed up as Spiderman which everyone thought was the most clever thing they had ever seen in their entire lives and he even WON THE COSTUME CONTEST which proves this particular joke can work in the right venue)

We then proceeded to pick out cowboy hats, spurs and other western accessories. We even put our hair in pigtails and drew freckles on our face, and then we were off to the party, thinking we were two of the funniest 10th graders in the entire world.

I will never forget the look on everyone’s faces when we walked in and were dressed as cowboys. It’s like the world had stopped and the entire party was ruined. I was mortified. They ushered us in and told us to hide, and about 25 times I heard the question “Why are you dressed like a cowboy?” and the only answer that I had was “We thought it would be funny.” Later, Bar Manager X would tell me that he had second hand embarrassment from that night. Great.

I ended up slowly removing the parts of my cowboy costume throughout the night, like I was trying to phase it out. By the end of the night, no one had remembered the costume, but I was still completely embarrassed. I now always strictly adhere to theme costume party requirements.  

-M

Introduction

I bet you’re wondering why someone would ever subject themselves to listing out all of the embarassing things that have ever happened to them, why someone would actively let the entire world know what a klutz they are, and admit to all the stupid things they’ve ever said. The reason is this: she’s bored.

I’m in the current process of writing a novel, and this this the place that I can come to just write what I know, instead of story-mapping and character-creating like I’ve been doing in my spare time. This is a place where I can let it all out and laugh at myself. And I’m sure eventually you all will be laughing too.

Or not, whatever.

-M