Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Top this! (Warning-this is not about Michael Jackson)

During lunch today the gals and I got to chewin' the fat and people started offering up their most embarrassing moments. Now while there were definitely some goodun's, after several near choking deaths from laughter it was decided that yours truly would be the winner......twice.

Now if the story my friend Vanessa had told were her OWN, she totally would've nailed it. Vanessa spun the most disgusting tale about her former fat, ugly supervisor who wore a crooked wig and had some wicked lower Gastro issues.

This poor unfortunate soul had just picked up a Taco Salad and jumped back on 85 South heading back to her job to enjoy it(I guess). Too bad the notoriously evil Atlanta traffic monster desired yet another offering and she was completely entangled in it's happiness sucking web. Side bar- she was eating a mexi-melt right before the jam and it wasn't too long before I assume a familiar rumble began to brew within her mid-section. You know it. MEXI-MELLLLLT!

She was completely blocked into the 3rd lane to the left. No one was moving an inch and she was about to shit her brains out.

"What to do? What to do? Oh I know, I'll shit in the taco salad."

I just imagine she reasoned with herself briefly, maybe she didn't.
But what she DID do was shit in that taco salad, sitting on I-85. Yessir. She pulled up her dress, moved her ass to the passenger seat of her Explorer, hovered her monstrous rump over that Taco Salad and basically...probably.... made it better. It is Taco Bell after all.

I imagine everyone has been in uber thick traffic at some point in their life.
Sitting there like I'm waiting for the world to start again, my mind drifts to some pretty far corners. Can't say for sure if I would ever recover if I was startled out of one of those little day dreams by an elephant with a crooked wig shitting in a taco salad in the Explorer idling beside me. But as I stated before, it was agreed that her story would've won had she been there to tell it herself.

My story begins about 6 or 7 years ago when my husband and I used to have a goofy little mutt named 8-ball. He was my husbands before we met but I quickly fell under his spell and completely spoiled the hell out of him. 8-ball was by all accounts an odd looking mutt. Best we could figure he was basset hound/terrier/something. All black with wirey fur and a tube like body. I used to cuddle the little weirdo every night back in Detroit because it was freezing and he was like a hot water bottle.

He did well in the move to Georgia and also in the first couple of years when we stayed with hubby's parents while we were getting our crap together. However, when we moved into an apartment he started acting like a fool. Tearing up the carpet, chewing up the furniture and crapping in the car every time you took him somewhere. No matter how upset my husband would get, I ALWAYS stood by 8-ball. Babying him and ruining him. I know that now.

Well, on this one particular night I decided to take him for a ride with me. I was running something by to a friend and had a couple of quick errands so I thought he'd get a kick out of coming with. I walked him around first and he took a massive dump so I hoped everything was all good. What we had noticed about 8-ball was that his long body held alot of doggie doo and that the little bastard could shit at will. He was like a revenge pooper or something. Revenge may be best served when it's cold but it sure smells worse when it's hot.

Anyways, I run into my friends house for a sec, come out and everything was fine. I praised him for behaving and off we went to Hibbet's Sports. I SWEAR I walked to the door, asked the lady if they had a certain insert, she said she they didn't and I went right back to the car.

Upon my return I knew something was up because 8-ball was in the back seat. I open my door, look in the passenger seat and sure as the world the little bastard had taken a dump in it. I was furious and began ranting and raging at him but since I had one paper towel in the dashboard and they were solid lincoln logs, I just got in, scooped'em up and threw them out the window.

"You little shit! You're not ruining my night! I'm still going to the video store!"

Like he knew or cared about what the hell I was saying. Psycho.

Now I should also mention that I was fat as fuck at this point in my life. My hubby and I had spent the two years he lived in Detroit with me eating 24 freakin' 7 and I still hadn't lost the weight yet. I'm about 5"7 and I weighed like 260. I was a behemoth HOG.

I continued to berate 8-ball as we pulled into the "Hollywood Video" for my weekend entertainment. (Thank god for Netflix)

I turned and locked eyes with his rebellious car shitting self and gave my sternest warning.

"You lay down and pray that I don't throw you out on the freeway" I'd NEVER do that really but it felt right at the time. And like I said before - this is a fucking dog, like he knows what I'm saying. I'm an Idiot.

So I roll my big ass out of my compact station wagon and waddled on in to make my selections.
It was right after I passed through the anti-theft thingy when I noticed it. Something was sticking off the right side of my extremely wide hip. I swatted at it.

"What the fuck?" I heard myself say aloud as I realized that I had just knocked a huge turd off of my behind in front of about 25 people at the "Hollywood Video" store. My horror was indescribable. I didn't know what to do so I just kept walking straight through the other security thingy and right out the door. I totally didn't pick up the poo or anything. Just bolted.

All I could think of was that for years to come "Hollywood Video" would use the footage of my incident for employee training purposes. Like "risk management plans" for when a fat chick takes a dump in the front of the store and bails. What do you do?

"You can see by this video that it bears some consideration" they'd say.

I also wondered what about the many children who were waiting in line with their Disney videos? Would it warp them forever?

All of this raced through my brain as I rambled back to my ride and jerked the driver's door open with my left hand. My right one was covered in crap so it was just this useless, smelly shit claw that I tried to keep as far away from me as possible.

As I viewed the huge pile of smashed dookie in MY seat I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed it when I got in the first time. It was HUGE but so was I and in the end I just chalked it up to lazy fatty who just wanted to sit down so bad that she didn't even look.

I had nothing to clean my hand or my seat with so I was forced to ride 10 miles home, sitting in a pile of dog feces and holding my crappy right hand in the air.

Please feel free to share any embarrassing stories ya got. I love'em.


  1. Oh my God. I am laughing so hard, I'm crying.

    I lived in a fraternity house in college, so I was surrounded by stuff like this, but like your coworker, most of the stories were of other people. There was the one brother who was in the backseat, drunk, with his date, and he puked on her right in front of our house. She then got sick, and puked on herself. He got out of the car, smiling, with nary a chunk on him. We were in the front yard drinking and witnessed it all.

    And then there was the other brother who brought a "date" into his room (Fuck Buddy would be the contemporary term for this girl). Her nickname was Scary Sherri. They stripped and started doing the nasty on the floor of his room. Thing is, he left his door open, so everyone walking by stopped and got a free show. He also neglected to notice his roommate in bed, on the phone with his long-distance girlfriend. If you ever saw PCU, and the flashback scene with Jeremy Piven and David Spade sharing a room, and Piven brought a girlfriend home, it was like that but worse.

    The embarrassing part is that this guy is a kick-ass pediatrician and a super-nice guy, and still can't live this down whenever he talks to any of us.

  2. You know, you missed an excellent opportunity to pick up the turd, walk over to "New Releases," and say loudly, "This is what I think of "The English Patient"!" And then smear the turd all over the box on display.

    Followed by a lot of running like hell.

    So have you been in this Hollywood Video since?

    Compact, I'm guessing cloth seats, not easy to clean leather/pleather?

    Did you have to awkwardly reach around and start the car with your left hand? Or did you use the right, and boil the keys when you got home?

    There are so many questions unanswered here.

  3. Hahaha...damn your right! I love the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine's boss makes her go see it. That movie sucks monkey balls.

    To answer your questions....

    I never went back to that Hollywood again sir.

    It was a green Ford Focus shaggin' wagon with all the bells and whistles so yeah....cloth seats and she WAS a whore to scrub out. The old shit wagon got traded in last year for a pimped out Magnum though. Chromed out with twenties', I look very out of place in it if ya know what I'm sayin'.

    I used my left hand to start the car which was pretty hard considering I had to reach around the circumference of my massive gut.

    Oh and we gave him away to a nice family 3 days later and we all lived happily ever after. I just couldn't get over it and having a grudge against your own dog just isn't sane or rational.

    My bonus story takes place a couple of years later at the gym. (This is short) I had lost most of the weight at this point- had like 15 pounds to go and my friend and I were running side by side on the treadmills.

    The treadmills faced the classroom where various aerobic activities were taught. This usually wasn't a big deal but on this day they were teaching a "stripping" class.

    You need not even think it because I assure you it was horrifying. The most un-sexy thing you've ever seen is a group of 50 year old chicks workin' the pole. And boy were they gettin' into it. There were also a couple of collossal mastodon's out there slidin' up and down it like it was a giant Ice cream sandwich.

    Needless to say, my friend and I got to laughin' and bein' bitches when I happened to notice that one of them was wearing a "depends undergarment" through her spandex pants.

    As I turned my head to clue my work out buddy into my discovery-Karma kicked me right in the crotch.

    Somehow my left foot just took out my right foot and before I could get the first word out I lost my balance and hit that treadmill like a sack of potatoes.

    BOOM! You could hear it over the "Beyonce'" song the snaggle bitches were fake strippin' to.

    I skidded to a stop on the carpet like a dragster after it releases it's parachute. I made it almost all the way to the tile of the check in counter. I instantly jumped to my feet like Mary Katherine Gallagher and looked around at the 70 plus people who were staring at me with mouths wide open.

    "Everyone!" I announced "I'm alright. Please go back to your work outs!"

    Never went back there either. Thank God for P90X

  4. Is it safe to say, however, that you're "Gallagher" move was totally worth it at the laughter you still get today over watching a bunch of Golden Girls work the pole?

  5. There is not a memory funny enough to be worth that kind of rug burn.

  6. ROFLMAO. Nasty.

    Have to laugh at the dog pic at the top taking a dump. They even got the arch right in its back.

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  8. Moko 2.0 - God I can't type this morning. Trying to say "Glad you thought it was funny!" I'm tarding out bad this a.m.

  9. You know, that might not have been an aerobics pole dancing class for 50 year olds. It might've been a workout group for dancers that work at the Clermont Lounge.

    (for those not from Atlanta, google it)

  10. Too Classy! Why do I need new tires every time I drive down "Ponce"? Do the ho's throw tacks in the road to slow down potential customers?

  11. I would think they would get more potential customers in that place if their advertising campaign was, "Come in and buy a Pabst, or we'll remove our clothes.

    Scars from surgeries that took place before laproscopic surgery was invented are NEVER a good thing for a stripper to have. C-section scars? Even worse.