It’s the Maineiac Contest–Get Your Lobster Lollipop Here!

This is my first contest! Probably my last! I’m so excited I’m busting out the colorful font and exclamation points!! And jumping out of a giant plaid coffee mug, looking a little too hyped-up on caffeine and sugar!!

In honor of my blog’s second anniversary, I would love to give away the following items to one lucky Maineiac reader:

  • One snazzy official L.L. Bean baseball hat with built-in lights for those 2 am trips to the bathroom! You’ll never step on those  f%$*ing Legos in the hallway again!
  • One brand new, but unbelievably stinky, L.L. Bean blueberry pillow that doesn’t smell like blueberries at all, but more like you’re suffocating in a pine forest! (Really helps clear up the sinuses.)
  • A lobster lollipop that doesn’t taste anything like lobster! Thank god, because that would be beyond disgusting! (my daughter had one and loved it, only to drop it onto the ground and it ended up covered in dirt and grass. I will give you the unopened one.)
  • A custom-made sketch of a you! Yes! A one-of-a-kind drawing of you or your gravatar by one of the most popular artists (in my house): my husband, Jim.  He’s really, really good! See above sketch from my recent cameo on The Simpsons! (if they were to ever ask me to be on a show…) And he cranked that drawing out in about 10 seconds. Just imagine what he could do if he spent a full minute on yours!

And all you have to do is:

1) Videotape yourself doing something stupid, the more embarrassing the better.

2) while videotaping, make sure you chant “She’s A Maineiac rules!” over and over. Other ideas: “She’s A Maineiac is the best blog in the known universe!” or “She’s A Maineiac saved my marriage!” or “She’s A Maineiac cured my insomnia!”

3) Send me your videotape along with 100 bucks cold hard cash.

4) Maybe you’ll win.

5) But I doubt it.

Okay, my husband just told me this contest bites. So I’ve changed the rules.

******TO ENTER CONTEST (this time I’m being serious)******

  • Tell me about an embarrassing moment from your childhood/youth
  • I will pick the top five finalists and put them to a vote.
  • One submission per person. (I have a feeling you guys might have a ton to choose from….)
  • You have until next Monday, July 30th at 12:00 pm NOON EST to send me your story through my email shesamaineiac(at)yahoo(dot)com or post it in the comments below.
  • Just remember, everyone will be reading it and laughing at you. That’s the best part of this contest!
  • PLEASE keep it rated G. Okay, maybe rated PG…this is supposed to be a family-friendly blog…(ahem)

Just to show you I’m not afraid of spilling my most embarrassing moments, here’s a quick rundown of some of mine…just off the top of my head:

  • In high school, I had a major crush on this really cute boy. One day, I walked slowly by him, trying to catch his eye, only to trip and fall down right in front of him. Guess my plan worked.
  • I leaned back and fell off the top tier of the raised bleachers while singing in a Christmas concert in junior high. To this day, every time I hear Silent Night, I hyperventilate.
  • When I was around 11, I was the proud owner of a super cool banana-seat bike with purple sparkly tassels on the handlebars and a baseball card in the spokes. I was showing off my new ride to a group of friends, so I pedaled hard to gain speed, looked back at them with a big grin on my face, then rode it straight into the back of a parked car.
  • I once was so nervous before going onstage for a play, I…uh…let one rip. In front of a cute boy I really liked. Then I tried to blame it on him. This was last year.
  • I was once on a long walk with my older brother, couldn’t make it back home to use the bathroom in time…so I…sorta, kinda…went to the bathroom anyway. Yep, in my pants. It wasn’t number one. I had to finish that walk, cars whizzing by, as I waddled back home, crying and trying desperately to look normal. (This wasn’t last year.  Sheesh! I was only six years old, don’t judge.)

See? This isn’t a hard contest! I just banged out a bunch of really embarrassing gems and that was only the tip of the iceberg. If you have no embarrassing stories to share, you’re lying! And you’ll miss out on a super cool baseball hat. So spill it, people!

She’s a Maineiac contest ends 12:00 PM NOON EST July 30, 2012. She’s a Maineiac contest is not affiliated with L.L. Bean’s, lobsters, blueberries or The Simpsons. Void where prohibited. She’s a Maineiac wants to know what ‘void where prohibited’ means. If your embarrassing story is chosen as the winner, you must forward me your mailing address so all these lovely prizes can be shipped to you and you can be the envy of all your friends. Also, free free to shout it from the rooftops that She’s A Maineiac made your life complete.

↓Below is a handy-dandy little form you can fill out with your most humiliating story so no one here can read it. Unless you are chosen as a finalist. In that case, EVERYONE will be reading it.

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130 thoughts on “It’s the Maineiac Contest–Get Your Lobster Lollipop Here!

  1. What could be more embarrassing than writing all about your most embarrassing childhood moment?? I know!! Writing about it and not even making the top five!!

    Don’t worry, I’m writing anyway, what’s a little more egg on this face?!

    1. Haha! yeah! See…this is the only contest where not only can you suffer the shame of baring your innermost soul to the blogging world…but then be judged by me that it wasn’t shameful or funny enough! This is why this will be my first and last contest, Dave. I’m not good at this stuff.

  2. Tar-Buns says:

    I am laughing out loud!!! If no other human being is in the house, does that mean that no-one heard my laugh???? Too many exclamation points.

    Two Hrs ago I purchased a new ride, a slick, low miles, loaded with everything (including a moon roof, 2011 Honda CRV EX-L I’m back in debt!

    Relief that I’ve finally done it! Everyone in my family is tired of my constant search for a newer ride, oh, for the past couple of years, yeah, that’s it, um, well, maybe the past too many years. In other words, I’ve cried wolf too many times. But now it’s done!

    I’ll revisit your challenge when I’ve collected my wits about me.
    T-Berry, with smiles!

    1. Ooh, Hondas are very solid cars. Good choice. I’m looking to buy a car soon. We’re thinking either Subaru or Honda. Both are pretty durable, I’ve heard.

      …now wait a minute–this isn’t embarrassing at all, Tar. Where is your story? Will this be one of those contests where no one enters and I’m forced to eat my lobster lollipop while crying over my beer? Hm?

  3. There goes my idea of making a video remake of a dance from “Flashdance”. Perfect opportunity to chant “She’s a Maineiac, Maaaaaaaaaainiac, and she rules….and she’s blogging like she’s never blogged befooooooore…”

    But it’s okay – I’m sure I can come up with a memory that would be equally embarrassing 🙂

    1. I don’t know, I still think you should make that video. It would go viral for sure.

      And yes, PLEASE come up with some kind of embarrassing story, Leonore! I can’t be the only one…right?? Right???

      1. Ah, but in the meantime, I’ll tell you a second-place story. Picture it: Pittsburgh, 1995-ish. I got up the nerve to give my phone number to a cute bartender and we were on our first date. We were going up a set of stairways that connected one road to another parallel road that sat higher on the hill. There were two staircases and on the first level, they pointed away from each other, so he went for the right staircase, and I – thinking I was all coy – took the left staircase. They both turned at a landing halfway through, so we both went up our respective staircases facing each other.

        It was then that I tripped. Tripped UP the stairs. Coy, indeed. He definitely noticed, judging from his smart ass comment.

        At least I had some fairly instant payback. Later that same night, we were having drinks at a bar, and while he was very enthusiastically making some random point that involved a word that started with /p/, my date spit in my face. To return the favor of the smart ass remark, I didn’t even try to pretend it didn’t happen. I flinched and slapped my face like I’d just been hit by a bucket of napalm.

    1. I would even bend the rules for you and let you tell me an embarrassing story from your young adulthood. Does that help? Stir up any memories for you? God, I have a TON. What does this say about me?

      1. Okay, no promises but I will think long and hard about this and see if I come up with anything good! Apparently I’m more forgetful than I thought. And your having tons of embarrassing memories just means you’re real…and by sharing them, you give us all a good laugh. Now, doesn’t that make you feel good? 😀

      1. Elyse, any idea how I can set up a form on the sidebar…that widget thingy that lets people just type in their entry and send it directly to me?? Cuz I’d do that if someone could buy me a clue.

    1. It is quite lovely. If you’re feeling down or stressed about life, just take a deep whiff and off you float away down a river, drowning in pine needles….And the hat is pretty cool, too. My husband owns one and uses it when he goes jogging in the dark, which is never.

      1. I was actually going to enter the first contest…I love making a fool of myself – as my students will tell you. I had it all set up in my mind – chanting, and all.

      2. Katy, how do I put a ‘contact form’ widget in my home page’s sidebar? Like you have for your contest? I tried to put one at the bottom of my contest post, but all I see for a form is O..the rest is blank…grrrr…

  4. John Erickson says:

    Wow – an embarrassing moment? Just one? But there are SO many – and all before high school! Bicycle headers, diving off porches onto concrete, mis-identifying parents in stores,… such a cornucopia. Any hints or suggestions? 😀

    1. ANYthing, John. All of yours sound fantastically embarrassing. My brother once dove off a porch onto concrete as well, right in front of all his friends and broke his foot right before a Van Halen concert. Not his finest moment.

      1. John Erickson says:

        Okay, I’ll try the concrete dive – more a case of me being too dumb to be embarrassed, and my parents being HORRIFIED, but what the hey.
        Background: My folks would always take a picture of my sister and I on the first day of school. There is not ONE year that the two of us didn’t have bumps, bruises, abrasions, contusions, and bandages all over. But this one year was the winner.
        Somehow, probably with goading from my sister, I decided I could jump from our front porch (about 10′ high at the top of concrete stairs) to the grass area next to the driveway. It was a great dive, but a lousy finish – head first into the concrete. Nothing broken, no major damage – yeah, I got a thick skull (and some would say, very little contained therein).
        The embarrassing part came at the ER. See, about 3 weeks earlier, my sis had been pulling me in our little red wagon, took a corner too fast, and I got my left forefinger smashed between the steel wagon body and the concrete. Again, nothing broken, but stitches were required. My folks charge into the ER, with blood all over my face. As they are frantically trying to get me logged in, a nurse walks by, pauses, looks at me again, and says “You look familiar. Have you been in recently?” I proclaim, in a wonderfully loud voice, “Yeah – I hurt my fingew!” and hold up the still-marred forefinger. (“R”s were a bit hard for me initially.) Yep, there I am, proclaiming to the world that my folks have had me into the ER twice this month, this time so bad, my head is covered in blood – and I’m too stupid to even be hurt! 😀
        I did get lost one time, 50 feet from my re-enacting unit, and the whole group knew it (as I had the unit commander’s son in tow), but that was as an adult. Most of my REALLY good stories come from adulthood, so I’ll keep those for the second round of this contest!

      2. Excellent. Thank you, John. Do you feel better after relating this story? I know I do. I would love to hear the ‘losing commander’s son’ story one day. You should really write a book of this stuff.

      3. John Erickson says:

        To be honest, the “commander’s son” story is not that big. We were on night ops, I got separated from the group, ran into the Major’s son (who also got separated), we tried to find our way, and just when we were both hopelessly lost, we heard our unit’s sergeant call out – from about 4 rows of trees away! There the entire unit stood, including the kid’s father. Oops!
        (Disclaimer: This is so silly a story, I refuse to count it as any kind of entry. Just an example of why I cannot be trusted as a navigator, and thus used to be the driver everywhere we went – until my headaches took away my driving ability. 😦 )

  5. I have such a boring life. I’m thinking, I’m thinking. I must have really suppressed all of my embarrassing moments. If they all start coming to the surface and I can’t handle the trauma, will you throw in a month of therapy with the prize?

    1. Damn. Next contest I’ll be sure to make people do any embarrassing vlog. Because I’ve had loads of experience in that area.

      The ‘crapped my pants in public’ one is probably a more universal experience than we’d like to admit.

      1. Okay, I thought of another one. In middle school, I had just started wearing a bra. I think this was 8th grade. We were in our 1st period class and one of my friends pulled me aside. “Your bra is showing through your shirt,” she said. I looked down and realized that I’d put on a neon green bra under a white shirt. Apparently I hadn’t been wearing bras long enough to realize that they can show through your clothes. There isn’t much more embarrassing in middle school than realizing everyone can see your bra in plain view, and you have the entire rest of the day to suffer through it.

      2. I could totally see that happening to me! I think it did a few times actually…last week. But now I don’t care. I just march right up to the Walmart clerk and glare at her while I buy my big box of wine.

  6. So timely! The last 3 posts I wrote were about how UNCOOL I was/am, and specific embarrassing moments. In “step into that small confessional” I wrote about the night I cracked a bunch of stupid jokes, the ones about a guy with no arms or legs (Art, etc), only to discover that one of the people at our dinner table had NO LEGS. Then, in more Tales of the Uncool, about how I was mistaken for a celebrity while trying to bravely, inconspicuously get a little tan on my assets. Finally, in “Part 3: Tales of the uncool…putting your goodies on the table, when I accidentally flashed my girlie goodies at an unsuspecting… well you see my dilemma? Those are only 3 of so, so many times when I’ve been “red as a lobsta”.

    1. Whoa! You have a treasure trove of mortifying moments! I’m curious what celebrity you were mistaken for…people used to tell me when I was younger I looked like Alanis Morrisette. (ahhhh!)

      1. I’m curious too- but I’m sure it would have been disappointing. I was also confused for Linda Blair (The Exorcist) when I was about 15 (the film had just come out). One of the most disturbing comparisons ever. At least my head wasn’t spinning and I wasn’t vomiting pea soup. 😉
        No offense to Alanis, but I’d rather look like you. I’d like to sing as well as Alanis. Or you, for that matter. It would just be nice to be able to sing in my own car without the kids threatening to jump out!

  7. Well, at first I couldn’t think of any embarrassing events, but then I read your list…and I still couldn’t think of anything embarrassing. Do you mean to tell me I’m supposed to be embarrassed over the idiotic things Is say? Or stumbling into the Pope? or burping on people? No wonder I have no friends. Sounds like a fun contest. You’re secretly recording this stuff to use against us later, aren’t you?

    1. Idiotic things you say? Yes! Burping on the Pope? Hell, yeah.

      I plan on collecting all of these stories for future publication: Bloggers’ Secrets Revealed! and selling it on Amazon for a buck a copy.

  8. Let me get this straight…you want us to dig deep down into the recesses of our brain to unearth the ghastly events that we have blanked from our memories, that we had to erase for fear of destroying us in our tender years.

    I can physically feel it working on my brain, it’s like an annoying scratch in my head trying to recover the memories, there must be some- I can feel it knawing at me.

    I’ll need to get the number of a psychotherapist should recalling these events send me over the edge.

  9. I have several embarrassing moments and it’s so hard to just choose one, but I believe it was when my friend and I were exotic dancers and were performing a joint routine (no, not smoking one, although I wish I had been). But it was a routine with two girls on stage at once, nothing kinky, swear it. But, we were naked (Yes, in the individualized country of Utah.)

    At any rate, it wasn’t me (swearing again) but it may as well have been, because I was the one everyone was calling over to the table to speak to. My friend *Nina* had been following the routine perfectly and everything went well, up until the black lights came on. Her beautiful shoes glowed, as did her white gloves, and mine that matched. The only thing that didn’t match was the glowing string extending from between her thighs. I was the lucky soul who notified her as she quickly hustled off the stage to make the “necessary adjustments.”

  10. Pooh, I didn’t read it was from my childhood/youth until just now… dammit! Probably the time I walked to 7-11 to use the phone to call my boyfriend. (My father had taken the house phone in order to enforce the rules) and I was fifteen. (Keep in mind, this was the early 80’s before cell phones.) I was sicker than hell, but promised my boyfriend I would call him when I got home from school to ensure my safety–of course not realizing the phone was not there, so I began my trek a little over two miles away to a pay phone.

    I spoke to my boyfriend and told him I was safe, but that I needed to hurry home because I could feel and hear my stomach churning horribly bad. I began my longer than long walk, as quickly as possible, although it was extremely difficult to walk fast with my legs cinched together. Soon, that didn’t matter.

    That hot August day the flood gates of hell broke free and so did my bladder. No, not the damp and itchy kind that may have been from the sprinklers; the slick and muddy kind that coats like Pepto Bismol, clear down to my socks, without the minty aroma. I felt like Calamity Jane after a week’s ride, my legs were so far apart. What was I to do, take my pants off and walk naked?

    I did try to appear like an average teen, but a friendly group of elementary tykes began following me in a mimicking style until a woman came out and called them back. I’m unsure if she figured it out or thought I was “special” and didn’t want her kids teasing me. Whatever it was, it kept me home until long after the illness had left.

  11. Hmmmm…embarrassing…. I got nothing.

    Oh wait…there was that one time that thing happened. Actually I was pretty shy when I was younger and I think that kept me from doing stuff…which meant less opportunities for me to embarrass myself. Or maybe I just blocked it all out. I did have horrible breakouts when I was younger. Once a girl told me my face looked like a pepperoni pizza. Another time I got a zit in the dead center of my forehead. A boy asked me if that’s where my third eye used to be.

    PS: This is the day I catch up on your blog and leave a gazillion comments. Please don’t think I’m a pizza face stalker.

    1. Never! I love a good Thoughtsy-stalking! (that is one sentence I’d never thought I’d type out before)

      About the boy asking about your third eye: if I had to list the taunts and teasing I endured growing up, I would be here forever. I wore ugly glasses, had crossed-eyes, buck teeth, bad skin…I was extremely clumsy. So I basically suffered through your typical average teenage torment every single day.

  12. Oh my jeezum crows, you almost gave me a panic attack re: the vlog, because I was all, “Well. She did it for me. I’m gonna have to do it. Will she accept a replay of the slushie video with ‘I love you, DarDar!’ dubbed over it?!”

    And seriously – what DOES ‘void where prohibited’ really mean?? I laughed so hard at, ‘This was last year.’

    I feel like this is the first time I’m in a competition against Renee, and I’m a little scared. I need to think this through, because you said only one entry… (You pegged us there!)

    1. Oh, no. I’d never make you guys do an actual VIDEO of embarrassing things! (like I did with my baton twirling)

      Just tell me your deepest, darkest childhood secrets so I can reprint them here solely to exploit you guys in order to promote my blog! Is there something wrong with that??

      Renee hasn’t sent me any juicy stories–yet. She does tend to win everything though, doesn’t she?

      1. Darla lama, I was just thinking how if you did make us do the vlogs, I’d actually have the perfect submission. I would reenact that team-building exercise with the pasta!! HA HA!

        Please note: this story is NOT my submission. Wait for it (I’m typing it now…)! 😉

      1. Whoa MJ this is the second time you’ve done this in two days – I was JUST about to comment back with my embarrassing story!

        I’m assuming this is a joke, because I’ve spent 99% of my life being mortified over something. Even now. But I can’t talk about it.

  13. Embarrassing moment you say. Let me flick through my old therapist session notes and see what I can find. Perhaps the time I fell gentlemanly area first into my parents thorny rose garden whilst wearing very short shorts. Too painful. Maybe the time I was punched by an elderly nun whilst at a school library. Hehe. Not really embarrassing but it still gives me the giggles.

    Ok, here we go. It happened when I was about 11 years old. I was at that age when girls made me feel uncomfortable, nauseous, and stupid when they were around but for some reason I still thought they were neat. My gran had come visiting from overseas, Ape was not born in Oz but was a Latin import from South of the Border, and she had brought presents for her two cherished grandsons. My little brother I was given some kind of cuddly toy which given his young age was quite appropriate. I, on the other hand, had a real surprise coming my way. My gran had made me, with her own little gran hands, an outfit to wear while she was here. You know you are in for a bit of wild ride when your gran says, “I am not sure if the kids are still wearing these?”. These words haunt me to this day.

    I remember slowly opening that package wondering what could possibly be awaiting me in those multiple crepe paper folds. When I finally made my way through the multiple layers of wrapping I was able to hold up the garment in the light of day and fully appreciate the magnificence of the garment. I held in my hands a pair of deep cherry red corduroy lederhosen. Yep. Friggin’ red lederhosen. To add to my suffering she had made them a few sizes too small and there was no way to adjust them. I know my parents thought this was hilarious but they insisted that I wear them to make gran happy. I reluctantly took them upstairs, put them on, and came back downstairs with a less than impressed look on my face. I am still convinced to this day that gran had won some sort of bet that day.

    That day we played tourist guide for my gran and took her around the many sites of Sydney, my parents in cool 70s gear, my little brother with his little cuddly toy, and me the weird hunchback kid, damn small lederhosen bending my back, moping about just behind them looking like a 1700’s era Bavarian character out of the Munsters. Nothing says Aussie chick magnet like a skinny hunchback in red velvety lederhosen with a constant grimace on the face due to the awkward pressure points of an ill fitting vintage Bavarian style garment.

    Damn friggin’ lederhosen!

    1. Ape, I read your story earlier this morning and laughed so hard I almost choked on my Frosted Flakes. You poor, poor thing! 1700′s era Bavarian character out of the Munsters. Ah! Haha! I can totally picture it now. This explains so much. Thanks for sharing your deep dark shameful past with us.

  14. Forget about the hat, I want the Darla-in-the-Mug (like a Jack-in-the-Box) when I win! I’ve spent thousands of $$ and countless hours on the analyst’s couch repressing all those childhood memories. As far as I can remember, my childhood was idyllic.

    Only one? Hmmm. This is tough.

    1. I am considering throwing in a big bag of Skittles, too. Maybe some circus peanuts in place of packing peanuts. The hat is unique–It lights up, so it’s functional AND makes you look like the worlds’ biggest dork.

      1. Darlinkidinkidoo – I think I saw you at the Y last night! Did you sneak into Illinois without alerting the authorities (as required because of that LAST time)? Seriously, there was a young woman talking to someone at the desk who looked just like you. I grabbed a towel and was kind of hiding behind it trying to scope her out without being obvious. But when she left without twirling something I figure it wasn’t really you. Sigh.

        Do you have a twin from whom you were separated at birth, by any chance?

        1. Oh, Pegomaniac! If I had a nickel for every time someone said they saw my twin. Seriously. All my life I have strangers walk up to me and say, “Hey, don’t I know you? Aren’t you _____? Didn’t you go to _____high school with me? Or are you _____’s sister/cousin/girlfriend? You look JUST like her!” I must have one of those everyday run-of-the-mill mugs. I feel so special!

          If only you and I could go to the Y together. We could exercise AND gossip at the same time. Then when I collapse, you could drag me off the treadmill and revive me and vice versa! We’d be such a team, you and I.

  15. Yaaaay! Happy 2nd bloggy anniversary! I can’t imagine like this joint near as much without you here. I have a story to contribute. Let me get the juices flowing and I’ll send it to you. Can’t wait to read others’ stories!

      1. I don’t think there was one single concert where I DIDN’T fall or trip while climbing up those bleachers. And I’d be wearing this long frilly Little House on the Prarie skirt that really helped make my falls that much more spectacular. Jack Tripper had nothing on me.

  16. At first I thought the first light beam option on the L.L. Bean hat was “Love Beam” and I was totally going to enter the contest, because who doesn’t need a good love beam? I bet it accentuates all the right places. Then I realized it was “Low Beam,” which was fitting because as it turns out, that was the lowest, most disappointing moment of my day. 😦

    1. Oh man! hahaha! I am sorry to disappoint, Cassie. But this hat has 3 light settings. Low beam for tripping over Legos…medium beam for jogging at midnight so you can blind the oncoming cars..and high beam for all those times you’re in the kitchen in the dark at 2 am and you’re trying to discreetly reach onto the top shelf to get to your secret Reese peanut butter cup stash. See? You REALLY want this hat. Even without the Love Beam! Enter my contest!

  17. Okay guys, ever since this contest started I’ve been having flashbacks! Have you ever been stuck in a public restroom with NO PAPER? Well it happened to me. I was only a kid, maybe 4 years old, and back then I was really shy and a bit quiet. My parents were at Sears shopping. I asked my Mom to take me to the bathroom, and she kept putting me off. It was so annoying, as I could even see the bathroom from where we were and I really had to go. After a while the potty dance just wasn’t cutting it. You know how one thing of that sort leads to another? Well, finally I couldn’t wait. I ran into the bathroom and did a number 7 (I always loved George Carlin for that one – a #1 plus 3 #2s). Then I noticed: no toilet paper. I did what anyone would do- yelled “MOM” at the top of my lungs. I’m not sure if this counts actually, as my parents were more embarrassed than I was. They had to deal with the fact that their darling daughter just took a dump in a display bathroom in the kitchen and bath section of Sears.

      1. So, to be fair, they were far more embarrassed than I. Since then I’ve caught me son (now 24, then about 3) doing the stand up job in a display potty at Sears. There wasn’t even a fake bathroom built around it though! That was just pathetic. Thanks though! 🙂

    1. First off, I love the Darshashian name. That even rivals some of Peg’s gems. If only they would make a bad reality show about me.

      Second: I don’t buy it for a minute. You’re from Nebraska, right??

      1. I don’t recall from your many vlogs, but do you have the booty to be a Dardashian?

        Seeing Bruce Jenner on shows about the upcoming Olympics makes me remember when he was world famous as a (cute) athlete and not for having his face stretched back so much he has a skin ponytail. Sad.

        1. I do have a booty, not an epic-Dardashian booty, but a booty nonetheless. When I was doing my twirling you can catch a glimpse of the junk in my trunk. And the older I get, the more junk I store in there…ain’t that a b*tch, huh.

          Whenever I see Bruce Jenner I scream at the TV: Blink, dammit! Just BLINK!! His eyes are stretched so far back I think he’s lost this ability.

  18. All right, Darla Clementine, my most embarrassing stories are of the variety that would send us both to therapy, so I’ve chosen to share one that I can actually laugh at:

    About 10 years ago, I was walking at a local park, where they have a 2-mile ‘loop.’ I went there all the time. I’d been losing weight and was filling pretty spiffy. At one point, a cute guy in his 20s waved and said ‘Hey!’ as he jogged past. I smiled and said hi, even though I was normally shy about that kind of thing. After that, I walked with a little extra pep in my step.

    As I was almost done with the 2 miles, he jogged up behind me again, and started chatting. I was feeling so emboldened by his friendly, non-threatening approach that I actually chatted back. Then he asked me how “Brian” was doing, and in response to my puzzled expression, he went, “I’m one of Brian [last name]’s friends! What, did you think I was just some guy following you at the park?”

    Turns out I’d met him before (a friend of a friend named Brian)! Annnd there went my peppy step.

    1. That is classic! Ha! I love the ‘extra pep in my step’ line. This has happened to me millions of times, but the guy was actually waving to someone right next to me or off in the distance (I have bad eyesight and depth perception). I have forgotten people before, too. I am terrible with names. And faces. And people.

  19. Darla I am glad that, you could make so many people feel embarrassed with this post. Great Idea. You are genius.
    Now I have to email you one from many of such moments. But let me think which one can help me win this contest. 🙂

  20. One time, as a young chicken, my family and I were heading to a really nice pool in Hot Springs and I was excited. I put a towel over my head (I don’t know why), and ran smack into a pole. It hurt my face but my pride smote most of all. My whole family cracked up. I was not impressed, and vowed to get them back some day. I’m still working on that.

    1. There is nothing worse than getting hurt when you embarrass yourself…AND having your entire family laugh at you. Been there, done that countless times. The more I got hurt, the more my brothers would laugh. *shaking head*

  21. I really believe I have blocked a lot out, I posted once about when I played Pinocchio in the school play, I remember all the rehearsals but not the shows, I think I must have crashed and burned something bad on stage to block it all out. Anyway, something I can remember….

    When out shopping at the Arndale Shopping Centre, we would go to the department store cafe for lunch (chips, eggs and beans, we liked orange food as mentioned in a previous post I did, and a limeade) On the way up the escalator this giant red button just spoke to me, I could have sworn it had a big sign saying “Press Me” on it. So I duly obliged, the alarm sounded and the escalator came to a screeching halt. The staff and security rushed over to ask what happened as my mother tried to shuffle me behind her out of view when two old ladies pointed and declared “It was HIM!”

    They issued my mother with a stern warning and as we continued back up the escalator I stuck my tongue out at the purple-rinsed snitches. A short while later whilst at lunch I had to go to the toilet, but I couldn’t make it in time and wet myself, I was in grey sweatpants, and they absorbed it all spreading all over my front. I had to wait it out in the cubicle for ages until my mother sensing something was up sent my brother to check on me. I was in tears in the cubicle by then and he had to lend me his jacket which I had to wear around my waist but back to front like an apron to cover my embarrassment (karma for the tongue poke? Maybe they were witches?)

    1. Ha! Thanks for your entry. Karma will get you every time, Joe. It’s amazing how many entries I’ve received that mention either peeing or pooping in public. Must be a phenomena no one ever talks about. Until I had to bring it up on my blog, because my blog is all about class.

  22. Hi Darla,
    Just sent in my entry — it looks funny, without paragraphs. But I am presuming that all will be well and I will win that lolipop. Because I already have one of those hats (no, I’m not kidding).

    Good for you in doing this contest. You will be reading entries for months though!

  23. Oooh, too late to enter the contest! But I’ll tell you my embarrassing story anyway. Marty and I had just started dating (so I was in my early 20s), and we were hiking and camping in Alaska. It was super wet outside and we were frantically trying to set up our tent and get inside for shelter. As soon as we were inside and had zipped up the tent, I let a HUGE one rip. It sounded all gross because my pants were all wet from the rain, and there was no possible way to even blame it on anyone else. Thankfully, we’re still together, but it was totally gross and embarrassing at the time. (Who doesn’t have a good fart story to tell?)

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