What a carry on ...
At the studios where one of the two bands I'm in rehearse, there is a vending machine in the hallway. We frequent this during our tea break at about seven in the evening. This also happens to be the time when the sessions swap over so the hallway is often busy with people.

The two guitarists and I saunter over to the machine. One of them (my fiance) is totally blind, the other is also not great in the seeing department and I have only peripheral vision in my right eye, so figuring out the contents of the machine is always a laugh.
We stop at the glass fronted cavern of delights and crowd to it, eager for our choccy fix.
I'm in the lead so I bend down to press my face against the glass in order to search out where the mars bars are this week, and promptly connect my arse with the groin of the other guitarist (let's call him Rob, for that is his name), who happens to be tall, blond and someone I wouldn't kick out of bed for eating biscuits, were I not happily attached. He is inching forward to the machine behind me at the time so we bump rude parts in a big way, and he deftly catches me by the hips to avoid further groin / bum injury to both of us. I am so embarrassed at the saucy collision that I jerk forward on instinct, and promptly head butt the glass front of the machine.
I fall in a little heap on the floor. He nearly takes a tumble on top of me but saves it at the last minute and tries to help me up.
Much to the amusement of everyone passing by, and the puzzlement of my fiance, who can't work out why one minute he was holding my arm waiting for a bottle of Lucozade and a Double Decker - and the next minute I had disappeared downwards with an "oof."

"Sorry," I says to Rob as he helps me to my feet, "I didn't know you were behind me."
"I bet you say that to all the boys," he winked.
(Cue Sid James laugh)
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Sat 23 Jan 2010, 13:16, Reply)