Oh, I could come up with more, many more. But when I think of humiliating moments from my past, three specific stories always jump to the front of the line, and cause me to grimace like Gilbert Gottfried. Today I’ll give you a quick rundown of them, and let you guys take it from there.
The one bathroom vacation home
I’ve told this story before, but it’s been a while. Back during the late ’80s I was dating a woman who invited me to accompany her and her parents to an island off the coast of Charleston, SC. A friend of the family lived there, and they were going to visit her for three or four days.
This was still fairly early in our relationship, so it was a risky proposition. Too much Jeff is not always a good thing. But I accepted, and it was incredibly beautiful. People actually live like this? Normal non-celebrities? I had no idea.
A couple of problems, though… The house had snow white carpeting throughout. Why?? Who would choose blindingly white carpet? I just knew I’d spill something, or track in railroad grease or something. So, that put me on edge from the beginning.
Also, I only saw one bathroom, and it was behind a hollow-core door directly off the kitchen. And the kitchen is where everybody hung out, drank wine, and talked. Whenever a person went in there, you could hear them peeing, as if the toilet was mic’d up and attached to an amplifier.
There was no way in this life or the next that I’d EVER be able to crap there. I mean, seriously. It would be like taking a dump on stage at the Hollywood Bowl. What would I do?? Maybe set an alarm, and shit at 3 am? It was something I seriously considered, but I was sharing a room with my newish girlfriend. I’d have to explain my neurosis to her, and didn’t know how she’d react.
So, I decided to just ride it out. I thought I could make it for a few days. Ha!
Around Day Two I felt like the Michelin Man. I was bloated and miserable. Everybody kept handing me coffee and beer, but I could barely eat or drink… because it only made matters worse. I was in a state of full intestinal distress.
On that night or the next my girlfriend suggested we go for a drive. And we ended up parking in a really pretty spot, overlooking the ocean. Before long we were making out, and one thing was leading to another. And at some point I moved in a certain way, and my ass went-off like a foghorn.
I mean it was LOUD. And sustained. It sounded like a cruise ship was pulling into the harbor. I might be exaggerating it in my mind, but I seem to remember a thousand birds leaving the nearby trees at once.
Oh my god! We were having a romantic moment, and I’d let-loose the fart of the century. It was one of the worst moments of my life.
But, thankfully, she thought it was hilarious. She couldn’t stop laughing, and it wasn’t mean-spirited, either. As it turned out, she and I had very similar senses of humor, and she viewed the whole episode as comedy gold.
Whew! After the laughter subsided, and we’d aired out the car, I told her the whole story. She started laughing again, and shaking her head in amazement. Then she told me about a second bathroom, in the garage. I had no idea.
And when we returned to the house, I made a beeline for that thing, and nearly filled the bowl. When I emerged, ten minutes later, this song was playing inside my head.
So, it had been mortifying, for sure. Be she’d made it a lot easier on me. AND I somehow made it through the whole visit without ruining that crazy carpet. It’s a wonder I didn’t explode all over it, in a spectacular supernova of poop.
A classroom surprise
When I was in 10th or 11th grade I went to school one day, feeling totally fine. I’d walked there with my friends, and we’d joked around, as normal.
However, by the end of first period I wasn’t feeling too hot. It was nothing serious, nothing I couldn’t manage. But I was definitely a little off. My stomach was gurgling, and I was getting sweaty for no apparent reason.
I made my way to the next class, and took a seat. And I didn’t feel horrible, but something was askew. I kept wiping sweat off my forehead, and the queasiness was still there.
I’d better get out of here, I thought. I raised my hand, to ask to be excused, and the moment I began to talk… I vomited. All over the place, with every eye upon me. It was as if I’d yelled “Hey everybody, watch this!” and puked.
The geyser came out of nowhere. There was no real build-up, it all happened super-fast. And good god… in front of all those kids. It was horrific.
Needless to say, there was a lot of shouting and people running for cover. Chris Griffith did a full Starsky & Hutch shoulder-roll to get away from me. And I had to take the walk of shame out of there, with vomit on my shirt. The memory of it nearly causes me physical pain.
The errant text message
A couple of years ago I was talking with my dad on the phone, and he was being uncharacteristically combative. I can’t remember the reason, but he was unhappy with me, and letting me have it.
I endured it, defended myself the best I could, and finally escaped the call.
Shaken, I sent a text message to Toney, who was at the grocery store. It was something along the lines of “Wow! Just got off the phone with my dad, and he was being a gigantic asshole.”
Only I didn’t send it to Toney… I sent it to my dad! I realized it the moment my thumb hit the SEND button, and the floor of my ass nearly fell out.
Yeah, he didn’t care for it. I tried to laugh it off, and pretend it was no big deal… but it didn’t work. He was offended, and so was my mom. So, there you go. Jeff strikes again.
It makes me to cringe, and I try to never think about it. ‘Cause my parents are great. I couldn’t hope for a better mom and dad. And I called my dad — who is the nicest guy in the world — a gigantic asshole, or something similar. Shit! I wish I could have that memory surgically removed from my brain.
Now it’s your turn. Do you have any tales of personal humiliation you’d like to share? Please do so, in the comments section.
And I’ll see you guys again next time.
Have a great day!
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