Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Lessons I've Learned, Part 10

Let your underwear be a camouflage for your ass.

I don't have time to recount here the many and various times I've made a fool of myself, nor do you have enough years left to read them all before you die. But I'll tell you about one of them, and I'll leave you to speculate how many hundreds more exist in the record books.

Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror about two hours after a meal and noticed you had some huge, incredibly eye-catching, uniquely disgusting bit of food stuck in your teeth? Or maybe a couple hours after your last lipstick application, you notice a big smear of lipstick across your chin, or maybe a couple hours after your last killing spree you notice an unsightly streak of blood across your forehead? Whatever the faux-pas, your reaction is always basically the same: Once you realize how goofy you look, your mind starts reeling back over the previous few hours as you wonder how many people saw you in this condition. Suddenly those just-slightly "off" looks people were giving you make sense. First, you're embarrassed for yourself, and then your embarrassment turns to anger at the parade of people who obviously took note of your appearance and didn't say a thing to alert you that something was amiss.

At my previous job we used a parking garage with valet parking. We had no choice--it was the only parking available downtown, so our company paid for us to valet park there. This might sound like a perk to you, but it sucked. I prefer to drive vehicles with a standard transmission, and at the time I drove an Isuzu Rodeo with a stick shift. As it happened, only one of the parking garage attendants knew how to drive a stick, so sometimes I had to wait 20 minutes for that one yahoo to become available to get my car. And their so-called safety rules prevented me from being able to get the thing myself, despite the fact that I was often able to see it from where I stood fuming. How can it be that a person who is hired to park cars only knows how to drive half the cars out there? Shouldn't that be a job requirement for a guy who valet parks? Eventually when it was time to trade my car in, I went against my preference and bought a vehicle with an automatic transmission just so I could get my car from the stupid parking garage without having to wait forever. That's neither here nor there, I just wanted to bitch about that. At any rate, I liked all the guys who worked at the parking garage and they liked me, and we often exchanged pleasantries while I waited for my car.

One day Mike, one of the attendants, was acting a little bit "off" while I was babbling to him about God-knows-what. He just kind of gazed at me with this glassy look in his eyes and didn't have much to say, which was unusual for him. Normally, he chatted away and flirted, but today there was clearly something wrong. I'm incredibly self-critical, so I assumed I had said something to offend him--which wouldn't be unusual for me, since I often yap before I think, and then am later aghast when it suddenly hits me how insensitive/retarded/high-on-PCP I must have sounded. So on my drive home, after taking note of Mike's strange gaze following me as I got into my car and drove away, I mulled over our past few conversations in my mind, picking them apart to find the offending barb. I couldn't pinpoint anything, but then again, the truly insensitive/retarded/high-on-PCP aren't always cognizant of their blunders, even when they try to be, so the fact that I couldn't think of what I'd done wrong certainly didn't mean I hadn't done anything wrong. I pondered it for awhile, eventually giving up and moving on to other thoughts. I went home home to relax for the evening.

At some point, I went to the bathroom at home--which is where everything suddenly snapped unhappily into focus. I was wearing a cute pair of black dress pants with an unusual design--they zipped up the back rather than the front or side, and were fastened above the zipper with a single button. I reached behind me and unbuttoned them, then went to unzip them--and realized they were already unzipped. They had been unzipped for hours. Stricken, I buttoned them back up again and left them unzipped, twisting in front of the mirror to see what I had looked like for the past few hours. This was not the kind of unzipped fly that you barely notice--I was wearing black slacks, a black, short-waisted sweater, and the whitest panties money could buy. With the button fastened and the zipper unzipped, my virginal white panties presented themselves in a huge, gaping 4-inch long oval that seemed to start at my waist and run halfway down my butt. To top it off, my panties weren't cotton, but kind of a sheer material, in spite of their glaring whiteness. I had truly made an ass out of myself. The only thing I was grateful for was that I hadn't been wearing a thong.

Naturally I did that thing I mentioned above--I stood there in my bathroom, mind racing back over the last few hours to determine who had seen my big white ass and cheerfully declined to alert me to the fact that I was strolling about half-nude. By my calculations, it had been probably about three hours since my last trip to the bathroom, which must have been where the problem originated, and in that span of time I had interacted with probably 15 people or more. All of them wretched, disease-riddled, soulless weasels without the slightest remorse for letting me sashay around town with my hiney on display. I wished them all a painful death by fire.

The next day I accosted each one of the gutless swine who had been with me in the midst of my previous day's streaking incident, and demanded to know why they hadn't said anything. My coworkers claimed not to have noticed, which was bad on two fronts: Either it meant they were all big fat liars, or, considering they were all men, it meant that apparently not one of them ever took an interest in looking at my ass. So either I was working with a pack of lying scumbags, or worse, I was an unattractive toad who my male coworkers did not readily identify as "female" in any way. When I interrogated Mike, the parking garage traitor, he paled at the mention of my panties and began to stammer and wet himself, offering me no explanation for why he had allowed me to humiliate myself.

So I learned a lesson that day. No, not "zip up your pants," goofball. I learned that one right about the time my mom potty trained me. This was an accident, and there's no way to guarantee I'll never again have another wardrobe malfunction after using the bathroom. No, the lesson is to wear panties similar in color to my clothes. Not matching--that's a little overboard. But if I'm wearing dark colored pants, I wear dark colored panties, just in case my ass ever makes another public appearance without my consent. I'll still look like a dumbshit, but hopefully only the very alert few will notice it this time. And the extra bonus is that if fewer people notice me making a fool of myself, I'll have fewer people to wish cancer upon later when I count up how many people could have bailed me out and chose not to.

36 comments:

Joe said...

Was it wrong that this post got me a little excited?

Bookworm Kiki said...

I once went to visit a friend of mine for dinner and a movie. Since I had time before we were to meet, I decided to take my filthy car to one of those coin-operated wand washes. I was very careful to keep out of the way of any side-squirting that would have wet me or gotten dirt on me. Or so I thought. When I was finished, I put the wand back in its holder, got into the car, and drove to the restaurant. The waitress met me at the door, smiled, welcomed me, and took me to the table where my friend was waiting. We sat there, exchanged pleasantries, ordered our meal, ate and then went to our cars to drive to the movie theatre. I looked into the rearview mirror and, what's this? A streak of dirt on my cheek. A very visible, dark streak. And NO one said anything. Not the waitresses that helped us and, worse, not my "friend" throughout the entire hour we sat there in the restaurant.

I wiped off the dirt and applied dry powder to my face and drove to the theatre. When I got there, I literally squealed at her, "YOU! You're supposed to tell your friends when they have dirt on their faces! Or anything that's not supposed to be there!"

And what did she do? She shrugged. That's it. I could have killed her.

miss kendra said...

maybe i should considering wearing underwear?

seth said...

So it's early in the morning, I had just gotten out of the shower and am looking for something to wear. The closet is full of choices, but all of a sudden, I find a shirt I had never seen. I think that maybe my sleeping, angelic wife has purchased a new shirt for me. So I put it on and head off to work.

A few hours go by and I head off to the bathroom. As I wash my hands, I check to make sure I've still got all my skin on. I do, but what's this? I see that the collar of the "new" shirt has a large rip in it. In fact, it goes almost half way around the collar. So I think, "meh, no big deal." But it eats away at my brain the rest of the day.

I get home and ask my wife where the shirt came from. She says "oh that was my old shirt that I ripped. I thought it would look good on you."

....And to think, I'm still married to this looney.

Zen Wizard said...

Sadly, both of your conclusions were probably correct, to wit:

Male coworkers were gaping at your ass; and,

Female coworkers were leaving you hanging out to dry.

I was giving a meeting this Monday, and one lady got up and whispered in another lady's ear.

Being a D!ck, I did one of those 7th grade teacher things, and said "Why don't you share it with the group??"

She said, "Okay. I told her her underwear was showing."

The other lady said, "How come nobody else said anything?"

Everyone claimed not to notice. (I REALLY HADN'T noticed, because I was all wrapped up in my Plan for World Domination...)

Stacie said...

I think I am going to die reading your blog! Stacie

OldHorsetailSnake said...

I am one of those persons who do not hesitate to tell about food-on-teeth, boogers, unzips, makeup errors. I figure they would do the same for me, although I doubt it.

Paige said...

I have always told, even complete strangers passing in the grocery isle. Hey you got crap on your nose or barn door is open, you know your flaggin. Because I learned from "Miss Manners" if it is something they can correct tell them. But if it is something they can't correct, ignore it.{i promptly go giggle or just rotflmao}

justacoolcat said...

As a Valet he should of known to tip you. As coworkers they were obligated to ridicule you.

Mighty Dyckerson said...

One time at work, I went to the shitter to take a leak. After draining my viper, I forgot to zip up. So I went the whole rest of the day with my schlong dragging along the floor. Boy, was my face red! Not to mention my schlong!

elcapitanhink said...

AWKWARD! Reminds me of the time I was bragging to a gaggle of peers at a party about my 3-foot penis, and didn't realize for an entire hour afterwards that I was completely naked -- except for my David Hasselhoff fanny pack and my mauve socks and hushpuppies.

And the bitch of it was, I couldn't like lie and say "so, you saw my flaccid penis? Yeah, it was only 24 inches long, it was cold that day" because if it had been cold, I would have probably had pants on.

DOUBLE AWKWARD!

Caryn said...

I always debate about telling someone they have food in their teeth, an unzipped zipper, or whatever, afraid that they will become embarrassed at knowing that someone noticed, but I always think about how I would feel in the reverse of the situation and always end up telling them. Now I'm especially glad to do so, though if you'd been warned earlier we probably wouldn't have had this funny post to read.

The Bard of the Wood said...

In honor of your new "matching" tradition, tomorrow I plan to wear flesh-colored pants.

CommonWombat said...

I'll state for the record that I would have told you your ass was hanging out. That is because a) I'm nice like that, b) I like you and you deserve to not walk around with your ass hanging out (or at least have it be a conscious choice), and c) once it was out in the open between us, I could mercilessly tease you about it for the rest of your life. What a pal I am.

mrhaney said...

being 61 now i would have told you but when i was younger maybe not. it is common now to see a lot of flesh every where but back 30 years agom it was not that common.

Sam said...

Too funny. I agree about the matching underwear thing. My mom told me that too - but it was more a 'don't wear black under white because it shows'

browser58 said...

I would have told you, but maybe I would have asked you to turn around so that I could get a good look and make sure that the zipper was really open and you ass was on view for all the world to see.

"Um, it appears that your zipper is unzipped and your, omigod, ass is, be still my heart, on view to the whole world."

TSB said...

I knew my matching underwear theory was there for a reason...LOL...thanks for letting me know why hehehehe

I'm guessing your male co-workers would have been wayyyy too tempted to make a comment about the "back-zip" pants, probably better that they didn't mention it, at least in public :)

sarah cool said...

My coworkers seem to hate me too. Last year, my dress pants split in the rear seam. Thank GOODNESS just a little split...and I was wearing similarly dark underwear. BUT NO ONE TOLD ME!!!!! NO ONE!!! And just yesterday, I went to the bathroom around 4 PM, and noticed that a HUGE tuft of hair was sticking up. Huge. And I had been running around the office all afternoon. Jerks. Jerks!

Gerbera Daisy said...

I am the kind that tells people if there is anything they need to correct such as spinach in their teeth or their zipper down. I would hope that I would be told as well. I also wear dark underwear with dark pants just in case.

melissa.in.london said...

Thank GOD I work with a friend so if I have so much as a grain of pepper in my teeth she tells me. I, too, tend to make an ass of myself on occassion.

Bonanza Jellybean said...

My husband once taught an entire computer training class (ALL DAY) with his "barn door open" (my daughter's phrase). NO ONE told him. ALL DAY.

Knowing that he needed love and support after that kind of humiliation, I blogged about it and laughed at him the rest of the night. :)

doggerelblogger said...

Karla, you seem to have more than your fair share of underpant incidents. Why do you think that is?

Actually, it sounds like your problem is malfunctioning clothing. Maybe you shouldn't be such an early adopter.

Kelly said...

ooooo. The moment you finally realize the mortification that you were unaware of is horrible.
It is like your stomach falls to the floor and you have this giant gaping hole for all to see.
Ouch.
Been there. But, haven't we all?

btw: sorta new to your blog... you are officially hilarious!

Lena said...

Definitely a good rule of thumb...er, ass.

On my husband and I's first lunch "date" we were sitting out in front of Jamba Juice where I had ordered some berry concoction.

We talked for THREE hours - mostly me talking about these other guys that were interested in me and how I was rebuffing their advances - total egotistical bragging.

My date meanwhile is smirking as I talk, with what I think is awe at my coolness and marketability.

Then he says (after THREE hours) "You know, I don't mean to interrupt you, but your teeth are completely blue."

My lips, teeth, and tongue were ELECTRIC BLUE, including large blue bits in my teeth.

I was pissed. At him. So I married him to shut him up.

And your story is STILL better!! ;)

Virenda said...

Okay NOT to take away from the embarrassment but just imagine if they were NOT so white...

That my friend would instill thoughts of death, mostly killing any and all that witness such a thing.

I think we have all been there and thought the same thing. First the embarrassment which is so strong that it makes you want to throw up a little, turns into seething anger.

FYI, I would have totally let you know that your white panties were showing, but that's just cause I'm cool like that.

Chief Slacker said...

Here's to hoping it just worked itself loose on your walk to the valet! and a zipper in back sjut seems dangerous in taht regard, we enginering types would consider that a design flaw rife with human factor issues. yup. heh

tfg said...

I didn't know that they made sheer, white Depends. Who knew?

anne arkham said...

*makes mental note to avoid anything that zips up the back*

patti_cake said...

I always try to tell people if there is something wrong, mainly because I WISH they would tell me. You're right, they seldom do though. Funny story Karla! Thanks for the laugh, I need it today

Karla said...

had you not been wearing any underwear, you would have known right away by the breeze blowing on your ass.

gina said...

OR had you been wearing a thong, you would have known right away by the breeze blowing on your ass. lol.

Tish said...

I once had to staple my pants together ON THE CRACK as they split working with a patient. AND I wasn't even fat then.
Panties? ZEBRA. Yep, I was the stapled zebra for months.

Jessica said...

Karla, I'm soliciting those I read and love to help me -

Please go here: http://www.denibonet.com/blog/

and vote for my ugly, naked colorful lady as the "Best of the Bad Art" - the Chicken and the Egg and I are neck and neck!

Thanks!

Eileen the Jellomonster said...

I saw a huge booger hanging just inside the very large nostril of a parishioner at the church that has been blind enough to hire me! ;)

I actually told the woman, who was shocked that I would say anything. And I was like, well, how could I not? I'd expect someone to tell me!

Anonymous said...

Great Post. It happens to everyone sooner or later.