Cringe!
Chickenlady winces, "I told a Hugh Grant/Divine Brown joke to my dad, pretending that Ms Brown was chewing gum so she'd be more American. Instead I just appeared to be still giving the blow-job. Even as I'm writing this I'm cringing inside."
Tell us your cringeworthy stories of embarrassment. Go on, you're amongst friends here...
( , Thu 27 Nov 2008, 18:58)
Chickenlady winces, "I told a Hugh Grant/Divine Brown joke to my dad, pretending that Ms Brown was chewing gum so she'd be more American. Instead I just appeared to be still giving the blow-job. Even as I'm writing this I'm cringing inside."
Tell us your cringeworthy stories of embarrassment. Go on, you're amongst friends here...
( , Thu 27 Nov 2008, 18:58)
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Gassing Zee Germans
In 1987 I went on holiday to Yugoslavia, as it was then, with my Dad. I was 15. Cheap beer, nasty commie food and nastier locally produced spirits. To break up the week, we went for a day trip on the ferry over the Adriatic to Venice.
Well, what a shit hole. Venice was boiling hot and ridiculously packed with people. Everything is too expensive, and once you get the “town on water” thing, the interest level drops like a stunned potato cod.
Anyway, around lunch time, after two hours of plodding around trying to find somewhere to sit down and eat our packed lunches, Dad spots a table currently occupied by a family of Germans. “Fuck this” he says, and proceeds to sit down, perching his arse on the 8cm of free table top space on the end. Embarrassingly watching the looks of disdain from the hun, I too squeeze my buttocks onto the tiny space on the end of the table, not covered with garlic sausages, coleslaw and so on.
After an initially uncomfortable silence, conversation resumes all round. Then as my Dad finishes the last bite of his sandwich, he proceeds to release a stunning ten second, loud wet fart. It sounds like a fat man jumping up and down in the bath, and I am amazed later to learn that he had not followed through. It was a sopping ten seconds long, staccato arse bark, followed after a short pause by the final trumpet. Then the smell…oh my god. A combination of heavy drinking and shabby Yugoslavian “cuisine” makes this a bad one. It smells like some one is crumbling desiccated diahorrea into your sinuses.
In dread I turn round…the frauline (mommy german) is immediately behind the Old Man. Her face practically level with his arse and no more than two feet away. She has taken the full blast of rectus spray and her lunch is only six inches from his polluting Khyber. I see she is visibly gagging, trying to keep her sauerkraut down.
The Old Man then makes thing worse, by turning round, grinning like a wanking Jap, and laughing, before saying …”What ?”
I am laughing now, but I can assure you, the sight of them rapidly packing up, kids almost in tears etc was cringe-worthy at the time.
( , Sun 30 Nov 2008, 21:59, 4 replies)
In 1987 I went on holiday to Yugoslavia, as it was then, with my Dad. I was 15. Cheap beer, nasty commie food and nastier locally produced spirits. To break up the week, we went for a day trip on the ferry over the Adriatic to Venice.
Well, what a shit hole. Venice was boiling hot and ridiculously packed with people. Everything is too expensive, and once you get the “town on water” thing, the interest level drops like a stunned potato cod.
Anyway, around lunch time, after two hours of plodding around trying to find somewhere to sit down and eat our packed lunches, Dad spots a table currently occupied by a family of Germans. “Fuck this” he says, and proceeds to sit down, perching his arse on the 8cm of free table top space on the end. Embarrassingly watching the looks of disdain from the hun, I too squeeze my buttocks onto the tiny space on the end of the table, not covered with garlic sausages, coleslaw and so on.
After an initially uncomfortable silence, conversation resumes all round. Then as my Dad finishes the last bite of his sandwich, he proceeds to release a stunning ten second, loud wet fart. It sounds like a fat man jumping up and down in the bath, and I am amazed later to learn that he had not followed through. It was a sopping ten seconds long, staccato arse bark, followed after a short pause by the final trumpet. Then the smell…oh my god. A combination of heavy drinking and shabby Yugoslavian “cuisine” makes this a bad one. It smells like some one is crumbling desiccated diahorrea into your sinuses.
In dread I turn round…the frauline (mommy german) is immediately behind the Old Man. Her face practically level with his arse and no more than two feet away. She has taken the full blast of rectus spray and her lunch is only six inches from his polluting Khyber. I see she is visibly gagging, trying to keep her sauerkraut down.
The Old Man then makes thing worse, by turning round, grinning like a wanking Jap, and laughing, before saying …”What ?”
I am laughing now, but I can assure you, the sight of them rapidly packing up, kids almost in tears etc was cringe-worthy at the time.
( , Sun 30 Nov 2008, 21:59, 4 replies)
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