“From Awkward Slips to Epic Fails: Unforgettable Tales of Embarrassment That Will Leave You Cringing!”
One time I was at the mall as a teenager and there was a really cute guy working at the Chinese place giving away free samples. Well I took one and went to eat it but somehow my hair got caught in my hand or some s**t and went into my mouth with the chicken. So I had to pull my hair out while trying not to spit the chicken out all the while this dude is just staring at me like what the f**k.
I just mumbled okay thanks and walked away. Still have nightmares about that s**t sometimes lol. And it wasn’t a small piece of hair either it was like a whole chunk some how 😂.
History class. We were watching Roots which, if you’ve not seen it, is a decent show about slavery. I come from a former mining town in the north which had all the diversity of a single occupant flat. It’s better now.
This is where I heard the N-bomb for the first time. *However*, I hadn’t appreciated (somehow, God knows how) that it was a bad word and not to be repeated in polite company.
A tune went through my head. “Figaro”. I began to sing to myself, as can happen when you space out in the dead periods between lessons.
Luckily, the first person who heard what I was actually singing was enough of a friend to explain why I needed to stop.
I need to stress that I was 14 at the time and had absolutely no idea what the word meant, having heard it for the first time an hour prior.
I fancied this girl all the way through secondary school. I sent her a valentine’s card in the first year but had no idea what to write in it so filled it with rude rhymes. She said nothing to me but I phoned her and her mum answered and said oh it’s you that sent the disgusting card, she does not want to talk to you. She agreed to go on a date but cancelled for no real reason and would do throughout school (she came to my house one Saturday afternoon with 2 mates). For some reason I got a rush of blood to the head in the playground and ran up to her whilst she was on the grass but in my head I decided to run full pelt and knock her over. I have no idea why.
My first year at work I was asked to come in at the weekend to re-organise the archive (huge boxes full of papers for legal reasons) and I’d been DJing the night before and done acid. I came into work at 9am still tripping my tits off. The guy in charge asked me to move these boxes from X to Y but he then went off for a “meeting” which happened to be the local pub. He came back after lunch to find that I’d moved them only 1 foot. He was so enraged he sent me home and I had to walk all the way as he refused to give me a lift and then never asked me to work the weekend again.
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