Monday, June 18, 2007
One of the biannual instances in which I was embarrassed
I don't get embarrassed very easily, but every once in awhile, I feel strange burning sensations in my face that puzzle me until I remember that's what shame feels like. Oddly enough, I tend to only feel this way because of something that's not really my fault, like I spill a bunch of buffer on my crotch at work and thus look like I wet my pants or something. It's not my fault the way that me getting drunk, flashing my tits to everyone in sight, and pissing in full view of the traffic on 14th Street is my fault; I'm not embarrassed about doing stuff like that, so it's odd that I get embarrassed about accidents. However, I do, and this weekend I got to experience that firsthand.
I spent most of the weekend safely tucked away working where nothing too embarrassing could occur (and even if it did, it's not like anyone was there to see; J-Sexy was getting her hair done and the other girl in our lab NEVER goes in on weekends). However, on Saturday night, I went out with Rack and her boyfriend The Old Guy for some cocktails and fried foods at McAleer's, this bar we frequent on the Upper West Side. We go there because we can sit outside, and because it's relatively cheap. We all had a nice time, drinking summery beverages (scotch and beer), talking about David Lynch movies and cocaine and my sex life and The Old Guy's 14-year-old son's punk friends and this very website. (Rack, in fact, complained that she doesn't get enough shoutouts, so...HEY RACK, WHAT'S UP? I'M JUST SAYING HI TO MY FRIEND RACK! LET'S GO TO McALEER'S WITH JERSEYGIRL SOMETIME THIS WEEK AGAIN, OKAY?) We had a nice time, and then decided to head our separate ways.
As I was about to leave, it did not escape my notice that there was a Tasti-D-Lite across the street from McAleer's. Tasti-D-Lite is this frozen yogurt-type substance that has like three calories in it. You could eat your weight in Tasti-D and probably not gain a pound. The same is not true for their wide selection of toppings, as I'm pretty sure their chocolate chips and M&Ms aren't fat free, but nonetheless, I always gladly rush to Tasti-D for a large cup of whatever-the-hell-their-frozen-dessert is with cookie crunch on top. I decided that this would be nice for my cab ride home and my mild buzz.
I said adios to Rack and The Old Guy, then trekked across Amsterdam, eager to see what flavors they had. There was a bit of a line, so while I waited for some bitch to hem and haw about what she wanted in her waffle cone, I got to check out the selection of both flavors and other customers. This couple came in behind me and the girl was really annoying. She was treating everyone to a loud debate with herself about whether she should get Oreo or cheesecake-flavored Tasti-D. I turned around to see if she looked as irritating as she sounded (she did), and caught a glimpse of her boyfriend. He was hot. Such a shame, I thought, that a perfectly fuckable specimen like him was stuck with such a nagging, shrill shrew of a woman.
Then it was my turn to order, and while the Tasti-D-Lite employee set up my cup of Oreo with cookie crunch on top, I kept giving covert looks in the direction of the annoying girl's hot boyfriend. Every time I'd look back out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking at my ass. "Ha!" I thought to myself. "While you're busy being indecisive about which Tasti-D flavor you like, your hot boyfriend is checking out my ass! Razzy wins again and as usual! Stupid bitch!" As I grabbed my frozen treat and prepared to depart, I swiveled around all the way to give him a view of my tits, since I was wearing a typically cleavage-baring halter top. We made eye contact and I gave him what I thought was my standard I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it smirk. He smirked back, but in a way that was pointedly less sexy and more amused (at me, not with me), and slightly pitying. I was taken aback and rushed out in a state of confusion and turmoil. I was expecting some fuck me eyes, not the look he gave me. Why did he look at me so weird?
My Tasti-D-Lite was nowhere near as much of a tasty delight as it should have been because I was trying to solve the riddle of the hot guy giving me weird looks. Unfortunately, when I arrived home, I changed into loungewear and discovered with shock and horror what the problem was: a huge PERIOD STAIN on my skirt!
I thought my period was over, and since I'm on the pill, usually when it's over, it's completely over. Not this weekend. I must have had some spotting or something and thus had a bloodstain the size of a baseball right below my ass. Even though I was home alone when I finally discovered why hot boyfriend guy was giving me such strange face, I was completely mortified. I know I'm not the first girl ever to have this type of feminine accident, but since we ladies have an unspoken compact with the rest of the world to keep our menstrual cycles as under wraps and out of the public eye as possible, it was nonetheless humiliating. I'd rather have my mom find a hundred pictures of me flashing my tits at the Crab Feed on her computer desktop than suffer unknown period stain ignonimy at the Tasti-D-Lite at the hands (or actually, the eyes) of a hot guy. If anyone could have seen me at home, they'd see my face growing to a deeper shade of magenta than the linen skirt I'd soiled.
Unfortunately, this whole incident made the Tasti-D more bitter than the herbs Jews eat at Passover to remind them of their days of captivity in Goshen. Alas, I was humiliated. On the bright side, however, that means I've gotten one instance of being ashamed out of the way for this year. That means I'll have to suffer through this once (maybe twice, tops) more this year. Hopefully the next time I get embarrassed, there will be neither a period stain nor a hot guy involved. Uff da.
I spent most of the weekend safely tucked away working where nothing too embarrassing could occur (and even if it did, it's not like anyone was there to see; J-Sexy was getting her hair done and the other girl in our lab NEVER goes in on weekends). However, on Saturday night, I went out with Rack and her boyfriend The Old Guy for some cocktails and fried foods at McAleer's, this bar we frequent on the Upper West Side. We go there because we can sit outside, and because it's relatively cheap. We all had a nice time, drinking summery beverages (scotch and beer), talking about David Lynch movies and cocaine and my sex life and The Old Guy's 14-year-old son's punk friends and this very website. (Rack, in fact, complained that she doesn't get enough shoutouts, so...HEY RACK, WHAT'S UP? I'M JUST SAYING HI TO MY FRIEND RACK! LET'S GO TO McALEER'S WITH JERSEYGIRL SOMETIME THIS WEEK AGAIN, OKAY?) We had a nice time, and then decided to head our separate ways.
As I was about to leave, it did not escape my notice that there was a Tasti-D-Lite across the street from McAleer's. Tasti-D-Lite is this frozen yogurt-type substance that has like three calories in it. You could eat your weight in Tasti-D and probably not gain a pound. The same is not true for their wide selection of toppings, as I'm pretty sure their chocolate chips and M&Ms aren't fat free, but nonetheless, I always gladly rush to Tasti-D for a large cup of whatever-the-hell-their-frozen-dessert is with cookie crunch on top. I decided that this would be nice for my cab ride home and my mild buzz.
I said adios to Rack and The Old Guy, then trekked across Amsterdam, eager to see what flavors they had. There was a bit of a line, so while I waited for some bitch to hem and haw about what she wanted in her waffle cone, I got to check out the selection of both flavors and other customers. This couple came in behind me and the girl was really annoying. She was treating everyone to a loud debate with herself about whether she should get Oreo or cheesecake-flavored Tasti-D. I turned around to see if she looked as irritating as she sounded (she did), and caught a glimpse of her boyfriend. He was hot. Such a shame, I thought, that a perfectly fuckable specimen like him was stuck with such a nagging, shrill shrew of a woman.
Then it was my turn to order, and while the Tasti-D-Lite employee set up my cup of Oreo with cookie crunch on top, I kept giving covert looks in the direction of the annoying girl's hot boyfriend. Every time I'd look back out of the corner of my eye, I saw him looking at my ass. "Ha!" I thought to myself. "While you're busy being indecisive about which Tasti-D flavor you like, your hot boyfriend is checking out my ass! Razzy wins again and as usual! Stupid bitch!" As I grabbed my frozen treat and prepared to depart, I swiveled around all the way to give him a view of my tits, since I was wearing a typically cleavage-baring halter top. We made eye contact and I gave him what I thought was my standard I'm-sexy-and-I-know-it smirk. He smirked back, but in a way that was pointedly less sexy and more amused (at me, not with me), and slightly pitying. I was taken aback and rushed out in a state of confusion and turmoil. I was expecting some fuck me eyes, not the look he gave me. Why did he look at me so weird?
My Tasti-D-Lite was nowhere near as much of a tasty delight as it should have been because I was trying to solve the riddle of the hot guy giving me weird looks. Unfortunately, when I arrived home, I changed into loungewear and discovered with shock and horror what the problem was: a huge PERIOD STAIN on my skirt!
I thought my period was over, and since I'm on the pill, usually when it's over, it's completely over. Not this weekend. I must have had some spotting or something and thus had a bloodstain the size of a baseball right below my ass. Even though I was home alone when I finally discovered why hot boyfriend guy was giving me such strange face, I was completely mortified. I know I'm not the first girl ever to have this type of feminine accident, but since we ladies have an unspoken compact with the rest of the world to keep our menstrual cycles as under wraps and out of the public eye as possible, it was nonetheless humiliating. I'd rather have my mom find a hundred pictures of me flashing my tits at the Crab Feed on her computer desktop than suffer unknown period stain ignonimy at the Tasti-D-Lite at the hands (or actually, the eyes) of a hot guy. If anyone could have seen me at home, they'd see my face growing to a deeper shade of magenta than the linen skirt I'd soiled.
Unfortunately, this whole incident made the Tasti-D more bitter than the herbs Jews eat at Passover to remind them of their days of captivity in Goshen. Alas, I was humiliated. On the bright side, however, that means I've gotten one instance of being ashamed out of the way for this year. That means I'll have to suffer through this once (maybe twice, tops) more this year. Hopefully the next time I get embarrassed, there will be neither a period stain nor a hot guy involved. Uff da.
Labels: gross, hot dudes, NYC, oh the horror, Rack, Razzification, stank vaginas
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