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CAN’T SEE THE JOKE
Jokey George blunders badly:
The president was in a jovial mood during his Rose Garden press conference Wednesday, joshing with reporters, excited to aggressively defend the Iraq war in the midterm elections, optimistic about his recent trip to Baghdad.
Then he was told a reporter he playfully teased about wearing sunglasses during the press conference has a serious vision problem and is legally blind.
Oops. Bush later apologised, which is all you can do in these circumstances. The Prez will now be able to swap blind-embarrassment stories with Ewan Campbell:
The Sydney comedian once bounded on to the set of The Midday Show tossing Minties into the crowd, only to see the solid little sweets smack audience members hard in the face. “They didn’t even try to catch them,” the puzzled comic complained, until a producer explained that the Mintie victims were guests from a local association for the blind.
Now is the time to reveal your own tales of shamefully inappropriate and ill-timed comments and/or actions. Confess!
Er, yes. Well, once, when I was about 16 years old, I attended the funeral of a friend’s grandfather. We were standing in fornt of the open casket before the ceremony, and I inhaled loudly and uttered the words “Good evening” in my best Alfred Hitchcock voice. My friend started giggling, but the untimely attempt at humor was not well received by others among the bereaved.
I once said at a family dinner that I hated anyone who ever had a pony. I was only joking, but Manya said she had one as a child in her native Poland. Who emigrates from a pony country to a non-pony country?
She died the next day. Boy was my face red. I almost missed the big game in order to go to the funeral, but luckily it rained.
Posted by Brian O'Connell on 2006 06 15 at 01:50 PM • permalinkAfter threatening me for about 10 years, my wife bought me singing lessons for my 40th birthday (just a 6 week course at the local WEA).
Anyway, our touchy-feely, accentuate-the-positive, eliminate-the-negative lecturer had us turn to the person next to us & explain why we were there & what we hoped to gain from the exercise. So I turned to the person next to me & said “I’m here because I’m living proof that God is a thorough-going bastard who hates people - I LOVE to sing but I’m the world’s worst singer. So, why are you here”.
The disgusted reply from my companion? “I’m here to improve my singing in my church choir”. WHOOPS.
Hmmmm.
I suppose I’m a bad person because I would have continued to throw the mints.
Posted by memomachine on 2006 06 15 at 02:02 PM • permalinkOh man.
You had to remind me.
Some 18 years ago, during my first season or two of Men’s league soft-ball, I was playing first base and relaying to the other infielders the up-coming batters probable running ability, as they had a man on first and we hoped to turn a double-play.
Up limped a young guy who seemed in otherwise good condition, and I assumed he was just bravely playing through a sprain or something.
I called out that we had time to turn the double, because the batter was “gimped”. With God as my witness, I thought the condition was only temporary.
Well, we turned the double play and upon returning to the bench one of my team mates, who knew the batter, informed me of the man’s birth defect.
Said my sorrys of course (dude was totally cool about it, and kind of got a laugh out of my embarassment), but I cringe hard to this day when I recall my gaff.
My wife and I were visiting Arlington several years ago (before the war). We were in a section where several famous people are buried (Joe Louis, Lee Marvin and Greg Boyington as best I recall) and we were going around seeing all the graves of the famous when we came upon an older couple (mid 40s) who were looking at a headstone.
“Whose grave is that?” we asked in our best, chipper, maybe-it’s-another-famous-person-tone.
“Our son.”
We apologized as abjectly as possible, and they were very nice, but we still felt about three inches tall.
1. I uttered an old girlfriend’s name at a very inopportune time with my ex-wife. (But its cool, I found out she’d been cheating on me for 5 years anyhow)
2. During my farewell party when I 1st joined the army, all three of the girls I was dating showed up. Before that moment, they hadn’t been introduced. I left the next day keine Freundin.
3. I walked into a college party wearing only a bow tie and a martini. It seemed like a good idea at the time.To a co-worker departing to go on maternity leave, I said “you’re pregnant?!”
#1 Randal Robinson: No, it’s worse. Much, much worse. It is obviously a call for eugenics.
#11 Texas Bob: Right. You’re supposed to drink martinis.Posted by P. Froward on 2006 06 15 at 02:22 PM • permalinkI was watching a tennis match and noticing the cute ball-girl fielding the out-of-bounds shots etc., so I decided to approach her after the match. I’m standing behind her saying, “Hi,” “Ah, excuse me. Hi.” And she ignores me, so that I start to get quite p-o-ed, and talking about “How the great ball-girl is too important to talk to some schmuck from the stands.” And I still get no response. So I tap her on the shoulder and say, “What’s the matter? Are you deaf?” and she replies, “Bingo.” I was absolutely mortified, but she was cool with it and we dated a bit, but nothing came of it.
Posted by andycanuck on 2006 06 15 at 02:35 PM • permalinkOnce lived in a 5-story dorm in college. The dorm “ringleader” called for an impromptu dorm meeting on the 3rd floor “open area” located outside his room. As his dutiful freshman lieutenant, in school only a month or so, I was given the assignment of going door-to-door on the 1st floor to inform its denizens of said meeting.
After hitting about 10 rooms, I knock on the next door. Its occupant shouted “Whatcha want?” I open the door and yell “Dorm meeting, 3rd floor”, just as I realize the guy’s in a wheelchair.
In a dorm with no elevators.
Yes, I felt like the dumbest man in the world.
Damned wide door shoulda been a tipoff!!
Posted by Tex Lovera on 2006 06 15 at 02:39 PM • permalinkAs a high school senior at the lunch table in the cafeteria I did a particularly spastic and inspired imitation of a Japanese martial arts hero, complete with very loud and forceful Japanese martial arts-sounding babble. In the presence, it didn’t occur to me when I started, of a Japanese exchange student. I then shrunk to two inches tall.
My life is full of incidents like these, there are so many to choose from….
I sat next to a VERY attractive young lady during one college class. I yakked it up with her for a while, working up to asking for a date. One day, I found out that we took the same course (“Philosophy of Logic”) but at different times. I mentioned that I thought the professor teaching it was an idiot. She replied, “He’s my favorite professor.” No date for me. :-(
More to come…...
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 15 at 02:41 PM • permalinkA few years ago, just weeks after getting married, I was chatting with a female coworker and she asked me in jest when would my wife and I be having kids. I gave same lame reply along the lines that as she (the female coworker) had been married for a few years more than me that I expected she would have kids long before me and then asked when she was having kids. She went all quiet and gave a muffled response.
I was a bit surprised and my boss who overheard the conversation then told me that the female coworker had just had a miscarriage - which was totally unknown to me. I felt like an idiot.
Settling into the dormitory during my first week in college, a young woman staggered past me, slurring ‘hello’.
Assuming she was obviously drunk, I turned to an upper classman and exclaimed laughing, “It’s only three o’clock in the afternoon and she’s wrecked!”
The upperclassman looked at me stone faced and said, “That’s (name withheld) and she has cerebral palsy.”
I was so embarrassed and ashamed (still am) even though I had no way of knowing. The young woman turned out to be a really great person, too.
/tilted head
Me and Big Leo was called in to do an emergency hit for a Big Guy lookin’ at hard time in LA once. “Cowboy the squealing bastard” was the order.
So we get to the place, y’know, and we bust in and start blastin’ everything in sight with sawed-offs.
Turns out Leo had got the wrong address, it was a day-care center! Boy was my face red…
(names changed to protect the innocent)
It was in high school, and I was hanging out lunchtime in my next classroom when a guy who looked maybe 20 years old, tops, came by. He introduced himself as John Jones and asked for the teacher Mrs Jones, but left when I told him she wasn’t there. Mrs Jones (who was in her 40s) came back to the room a short time later and I, seeking to be helpful, told her her son John stopped by. It wasn’t until after school that I encountered them together and learned, to my mortification, that he was her husband.
#22: Stoop Davy Dave sneaked into one of Paco’s Patented Transmogrification Machines and came out as “Huck Foley”. Personally, I believe this was in lieu of international flight to avoid prosecution on charges of counterfeit humility (changing his identity was so much simpler).
Glad to see you back, Salty.
Dinner with a hot babe’s parents, all very stiff and religious. Parents, two sisters, tightassed brother, girl and moi. They were German and were serving ethic German food. Never had it before and didn’t know at the time it inspired oompah bands.
So I’m next to mom and she says something. I turn to her and crack the mother of all farts. Must have lasted an hour and you could hear it across the street. The whole house smelled like gravy and saurkraut.
I wonder what happened to her?
Posted by Gary from Jersey on 2006 06 15 at 03:39 PM • permalinkI read about this incident with the reporter a day ago and found out he keeps his near blindness quiet so W likely had no idea. Given the chance after W’s faux pas, the reporter declined to play the victim card. Bully for him.
I notice that Tim didn’t reveal any of his own social blunders and I am following his lead. The rest of you have given me some afternoon chuckles, however.
So I’m next to mom and she says something. I turn to her and crack the mother of all farts. Must have lasted an hour and you could hear it across the street. The whole house smelled like gravy and saurkraut.
Damn, man, I’m cryin’ here from laughter. Why didn’t you tell the mother that, where you come from, that’s how you express your appreciation of the meal?
Heck, the germans burp to show appreciation; they would have understood.
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2006 06 15 at 03:55 PM • permalinkI was once in front of a Spencer’s novelty store on Halloween day. The store had several Halloween exhibits out on the mall floor. I made several off-hand comments, to my brother, about a realistic ‘exhibit’, I was standing next to, of a person in some kind of torture chair with their head held captive by metal screws tipped with blood-soaked gauze. I was reaching out to touch it when my brother gave me a disgusted look and I came to realize that the brunt of my comments was a guy in a wheelchair with his head in a halo unit.
In gr 12 math i was chatting with a group of people before class got going and one girl said something which i thought was meant for me, but i wasn’t sure so i said (politely not in a Taxi Driver sort of way) “sorry, are you talking to me?” She burst into tears and i’m sitting there going “what the…” This guy Steve pulled me aside and told me that she had a glass eye. It all made sense then. After a while i didn’t feel too bad because i certainly wasn’t going to be the last person to do that to her and she might want to calibrate her sensitivity accordingly. Still that would suck, so… sorry Marla!
#30 - you got that right
OT,
So SDD is Hank Foley? Self-indulgent Hank Foley? Needs a hug and a flower Hank Foley? (I just cracked myself up with that one. Obviously I wouldn’t be the poor sod trying to hug him.)And thanks, Paco.
/OTWonderful stories, everybody. Being perfect, I have no such embarrassing stories to share, but I certainly appreciate hearing yours.
Didn’t happen to me but to my sister. She was at work and walking down the corridor with a co-worker when she tripped. To make a joke of it she said “Hire the handicapped…it’s fun to watch them work!” which is a phrase my father always used. Unfortunately for her, nearby the boss was showing around a client who was (you guessed it) in a wheelchair. Darn near lost her job over that.
To a co-worker departing to go on maternity leave, I said “you’re pregnant?!”
Having done this, and, it’s opposite (call a woman who’s just fat pregnant), my advice.
Never, never assume a woman is with child unless
A) She explictly tells you.
b) You actually see the darn thing coming out.Posted by Quentin George on 2006 06 15 at 05:07 PM • permalinkHi, saltydog!
Once I was in a dress shop with my friend and we were looking at dresses and I said, “OMG, can you imagine the white trash that would wear THIS?” holding up a dress. And then I saw the lady wearing the exact same dress, standing at the next rack, staring at me. So I said, “But it looks really good on YOU!” loudly.
Probably too loudly.
Back when I was teaching, I had an overfilled class and it was difficult to get around the chairs to hand back papers. So I was handing back papers and my students were showing each other their papers and comparing, and I turned, and this male student turned in his chair, and I hit him in the face.
With my left breast.
I panicked and, instead of turning back, kept turning, and so did he, so that in a second, his face was in my cleavage. Then I fell back, and fell into the student in front of him.
What a class. I couldn’t get them calmed down for about 15 minutes.
Finally, I was teaching poetry to a class of nursing students (it was a required component). So I was reading Emily Dickinson’s poems aloud so they could appreciate the internal movement, and I read, “Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.”
And then I collapsed.
I was ok, and that’s not really the funny part. The funny part was when I walked into their next class and every damn one of them had brought his/her nursing kit along…
“just in case,” as one chirped brightly…Andrea, re: the FAQ. Could I suggest adding in the instructions regarding the use of the format buttons, that you can highlight the text you want to format and then click the format button. That way you only have to click it once, and you’re not in danger of forgetting to close the formatting. At least, I assume it will work that way for everyone (I don’t really know).
Thank you Daily Kos, we finally have Step Two!
1. Make jokes about the vision challenged.
2. Round up progressives and send them to death camps.
3. Profit!Posted by jabberwocky on 2006 06 15 at 05:38 PM • permalinkWhen I was about three years old, I was dragged to the funeral of someone or other who I had never met. I apparently had trouble understanding the whole idea of someone not being here anymore, and I kept asking why he died, then when told that it was his time asked why it was his time. Finally my mother told me it was because he was old.
That ended the discussion for the time being. Then, about two weeks or so later, when my mother and I were waiting in a long line at the bank, I tugged on the jacket of the man in front of me and, after getting his attention, said “you’re so old. How come you’re not dead yet?”
Speaking of assumptions about pregnant women, when my mum was is hospital for cancer treatment years ago, she had to have an op to provide her with a colostomy bag. Her stomach was really distended, and she did look pregnant.
Of course, she got asked when she was having her baby and the poor lady who asked the question near died of embarrassment to find out mum wasn’t expecting but was actually a 55yo grandmother.
Then there was the time when my dad was sitting in the foyer waiting for visiting hours to start, and the nurse told mum that ‘your father can come and see you now’. (Said hospital is very strict on visiting hours in the arvo).
Posted by Nilknarf Arbed on 2006 06 15 at 05:40 PM • permalinkI went with my girlfriend and her daughter to a family do of hers in Harrogate, Yorkshire (UK).We stayed in a Bed & Breakfast. At breakfast, the gf wanted a cup of hot water for her herbal tea. It was a long time coming and she asked the landlady where it was. I said “They’re probably waiting for the cauldron to boil”. I meant to say kettle or urn or something but they all thought I meant a witch’s cauldron. Our hostess had a sense of humour failure.
Never piss off a Yorkshire landlady.Good to see you saltydog.
Rebecca: no, this particular formatting script doesn’t work that way. You have to click the button first, enter the text, then click the button again. I may end up looking for a slightly more efficient comment button script but this one was easy to implement.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2006 06 15 at 05:53 PM • permalink“OMG, can you imagine the white trash that would wear THIS?” holding up a dress. And then I saw the lady wearing the exact same dress, standing at the next rack, staring at me. So I said, “But it looks really good on YOU!” loudly.
Rodney Dangerfield lives!
Posted by AlburyShifton on 2006 06 15 at 05:57 PM • permalinkI once worked with a woman who had two granddaughters she talked about incessantly. When she finally showed me a picture of them, I was stunned at the sheer unattractiveness of the two girls. Unfortunately I wasn’t stunned into silence and knowing that I had to say something, I decided to ask which was was the oldest? Unfortunately it cam out “which one is the ugliest?”
“I was watching a tennis match and noticing the cute ball-girl fielding the out-of-bounds shots etc., so I decided to approach her after the match. I’m standing behind her saying, “Hi,” “Ah, excuse me. Hi.” And she ignores me, so that I start to get quite p-o-ed, and talking about “How the great ball-girl is too important to talk to some schmuck from the stands.” And I still get no response. So I tap her on the shoulder and say, “What’s the matter? Are you deaf?” and she replies, “Bingo.” I was absolutely mortified, but she was cool with it and we dated a bit, but nothing came of it.”
uh, this is a Seinfeld episode
Great moments in humiliation, everyone; great laughs.
#2—If I had been at that funeral with you, Paco, I’d have burst out laughing and then we’d both been shunned.
#11—I walked into a college party wearing only a bow tie and a martini. It seemed like a good idea at the time.
As I think back and consider my college years, I don’t find anything odd or unusual about that.
My ex-brother-in-law is Italian (New Jersey Italian). Once when a gaggle of his aunts was over for tea, they started talking about the family’s St. Valentine’s Day tradition. “What’s that”, I said, “lining everybody up against the gas station wall?” as I was making like a tommy gun. Lead balloon.
Posted by Kyda Sylvester on 2006 06 15 at 06:50 PM • permalinkHilarious, almost as funny as the weapons of mass destruction used to justify an illegal military invasion of another country. Now that was a hoot.
Posted by Miranda Divide on 2006 06 15 at 06:51 PM • permalinkI tend to forget embarrassing stories, that’s the best way for them to be remembered.
I did feel somewhat guilty only a few days ago. I was the only person in the lift when I leant too far to one side to relieve some acute abdominal pain. You guessed it, a hand poked through the closing elevator door, someone got in. I’m glad they only went 1 floor. Then I had the fragrance of rice and dead rat all to myself for the rest of the trip.
Farting in a lift is risky business.I have always conducted myself with utmost propriety and treated others with due respect.
You would do well to learn from me, fucktards.
(PS Good to see you in fightin’ form, Miranda.)
Posted by Margos Maid on 2006 06 15 at 07:15 PM • permalinkAndrea, re: the FAQ. Could I suggest adding in the instructions regarding the use of the format buttons, that you can highlight the text you want to format and then click the format button. That way you only have to click it once, and you’re not in danger of forgetting to close the formatting. At least, I assume it will work that way for everyone (
I don’t really know).Rebecca: no, this particular formatting script doesn’t work that way. You have to click the button first, enter the text, then click the button again. I may end up looking for a slightly more efficient comment button script but this one was easy to implement.Andrea—Rebecca’s method is exactly how I formatted this post. Highlight & click—it works, unless you highlight intermix highlighting characters. It’s what I always use, much simpler. For me, anywho.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 15 at 07:26 PM • permalinkBeing the queen of foot-in-mouth (I only open my mouth to change feet), I have expunged many embarrassing moments from my memory.
The most recent was, meeting a new work colleague who I had only spoken with on the phone prior to this, I asked her if she was, you know, expecting - the previous incumbent in her position was off on maternity leave. Er, big faux-pas. I tried to save it by mentioning that the last couple of people in the job had caught pregnancy, must be the chair, or the water… She was very good humoured about it.
As for embarassing things DONE to me, well…
My wedding. My uncle, the MC. Speech. Groom was RAAFie. Comment made about me trying all the services before settling for the RAAF (I crawl under the table).
Then Groom replies with speech taking up this comment, Army - wine women and song, Navy - rum, bum and wimmin, RAAF (you know I can’t even remember what he said after that, something about LP records, I think) - talk about embarrassing. Idiot. And I still stayed with him for over 10 years.Oh, hang on. This is the
bestworst:My ex husband’s Uncle committed suicide. My ex never told me anything about the circumstances or what happened, just that his father found the uncle (his brother). He never told me anything. Anyway, I was speaking with his sister. I said “Well, at least your dad found him and he’s not left wondering.”
Turned out that uncle had blown his brains out in his house they temporarily shared. The two sisters-in-law and the husband of one of them had to clean the mess up on the Sunday as the Salvos weren’t available to help. No wonder she went silent on the phone when I said that.#43 & 48, that’s the way it works for me. Highlight and click.
Hilarious,
almostas funny asthe weapons of mass destruction used to justify an illegal military invasion of another country. Now that wasa hoot.See? All by highlight and click! Indeed, if you highlight and right-click (at least in IE6), you get a little dialog box with “undo”, “cut”, etc. That’s how I did this:
Hilarious…as funny as…a hoot.
Except for the ellipses, I mean. What fun!
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 15 at 07:31 PM • permalink#55
Stevo
Why is it that when you want to release a little gas, surruptitiously pop out a squeaker, so to speak, it sounds like 76 trombones?Or alternately, if you do manage to sneak one out, smells like something crawled up there and died (silent, but deadly)?
And if you work in an office on your own, every bloody man and his dog comes in after the stinky one and has to talk with you and lean over you?
Andrea….you use Firefox, do you not? I’m using IE6 (yeah, I know, I’m just too lazy to convert). Might be the reason for the difference in what you see.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 15 at 07:32 PM • permalinkBack in the nineties when “diversity” was the latest fashion in managobabble, a person from the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission (Sydney based) came to Canberra to give a presentation to a group of Public Service HR Managers and EEO coordinators about disability discrimination in the workplace.
The presenter - a woman - was herself disabled but she was also a difficult, person, one of those, not uncommon in the human rights industry, who behaves as though any any failure to meet absolutely her own personal demands and requirements is an affront to all disabled people everywhere.
Anyway, eventually we got her set up to her satisfaction, she gave the presentation and then called for questions. One gentleman at the back was having trouble making himself heard so she yelled - yes, yelled - at him to stand up.
He was, of course, in a wheelchair!!!
Posted by Consuela Potez on 2006 06 15 at 07:52 PM • permalinkWhen I was a kid, I used to torment my brother by pretending to be somewhat disabled while in public. It would always horrify him whenver I became “Roger” limping along with a foot turned inwards and an off-set, cocked jaw.
Any hoo, one day I decided to play Roger at a public swimming pool while we were on holidays - slashing around in the pool as if I couldn’t swim and cursing my brother and his friends for teasing a poor disabled boy.
Of course, a whole busload of disabled kids turned up at the pool and I had to keep the act up for fear of offending them and their carers.
My jaw was so sore by the time we were picked up, as was my belly from holding in the laughter.
Roger didn’t come out much after that.
Posted by The (WHMECDM) President on 2006 06 15 at 08:32 PM • permalinkSee? All by highlight and click! Indeed, if you highlight and right-click (at least in IE6), you get a little dialog box with “undo”, “cut”, etc.
that method doesn’t work in firefox on the mac, sadly
Posted by Mr. Bingley on 2006 06 15 at 08:37 PM • permalinkI’d pitch in ‘cept for that whole statute of limitations thing… and respect for Tim’s bandwidth budget…
Posted by richard mcenroe on 2006 06 15 at 08:38 PM • permalinkMy sister and brother-in-law live on main street in a small town outside of Evansville, IN. My B-I-L is big friends with all the local cops. Every year on the 4th of July, there’s fair downtown and with their house almost dead center downtown, people park their cars all over their lawn and in their driveway. One year, my brother-in-law decided to block off his driveway with those orange traffic cones. Still, a large van was discovered parking in the driveway. My B-I-L lost it, started screaming in the street about the incredible rudeness of people, he called his cop buddies to get it towed and stood in the driveway screaming that this damn van better be outta here in 10 minutes or he’d start smashing the side of it in. (he’s a hothead). Ten minutes passed and suddenly struggling down the sideway toward their house and their driveway is a group of about 12 terrified, horribly handicapped people, walkers, wheelchairs, canes, palsied people limping and dragging limbs behind them. It was some kind of a group home for the disabled out to the fair for the day. To his credit my B-I-L DID at least stay and face the music. The van, of course, was allowed to stay.
#11 2. During my farewell party when I 1st joined the army, all three of the girls I was dating showed up. Before that moment, they hadn’t been introduced. I left the next day keine Freundin.
I’m glad you hadn’t become a girlfriend, Bob. I suppose you could also be said to have been “mit keine Freundin” od. “ohne Freundin”.
Posted by jabberwocky on 2006 06 15 at 09:01 PM • permalinkI was 21, rounding up signatures for a petition to bring George W. Bush out to my hometown for a visit. A man wearing a GOP candidate sticker walked up, asked what it was, I laughingly told him “oh, nothing, you’re just giving away your kidney”.
He got real quiet, his daughter looked at me and explained that he’d just been released from the hospital after a kidney transplant.
Awwwwkwwwaaaard. Still, he was a good sport, had a laugh, and signed the petition.
Posted by Aaron - Freewill on 2006 06 15 at 09:06 PM • permalinkIn my cab driving days I picked up a couple late at night in an area I wasn’t too familiar with. They both got in the back seat and the woman gave me the destination for the fare but not far down the road asked for the cab to pull over and got out.
I asked her male companion ‘When we get close can you show me the way?’
He answered ‘I would but I’m blind.’Carrying my Grandmother’s coffin from the hearse to the gravesite:
me: Geee, she’s heavy isnt she?
Brother: What about you Jabba the Hutt, when we bury you, we’ll need a bobcat
Me: well, you can talk, you…..And just at that moment both the minister and the funeral director stopped, turned and looked at us, sheepishness ensuing.
On my first day in the public service over ten years ago, we had to endure a bunch of new-age seminars and training courses. During a break, one of the other guys and I were having a chat at the urinal about how boring the current course was. About 30 seconds later, a toilet flushes and the presenter of the course walks out of the stall. Awkward silence ensued…
To this day, I always check the stalls to see if they’re occupied before having a conversation in the bathroom.
Posted by Art Vandelay on 2006 06 15 at 09:58 PM • permalinkThe switchboard operator where I worked was visually challenged, and we got him absolutely shitfaced at the National Hotel one night. We called a cab over, and poured him inot the back seat, telling the driver “look after this bloke, he’s blind.”
“I can see that.” was the callous, uncaring, thoughtless and diversity-unaware reply by the rude cabbie.
We had a cricket match booked against tax one day, and they failed to turn up; fortunately another team’s opposition also failed to front, so we agreed to play them. The opposing team was made up with women, kids and a couple of neuro-muscularly challenged individuals; we proceeded to even things up by getting on the pop, and by the time we were in the field we were completely Helen Kellered; the buggers were beating us like a red-headed step-child until my older brother bean-balled a spastic chap who was caning us all over the paddock; he fell over on his stumps, and we duly appealled and the disgusted umpire gave him out. We got flogged anyway.
Another character I worked with named Nev “Humphrey” Borget was in the lift at the office with me and an ageing office clerk named Pat “The Hat” Heggerty, so named for her fondness for chapeaus.
Pat remarked “You know, Nev, whenever I’m down in the dumps, I like to get myself a new hat”.
Humph replied “So that’s where you pick them up then.”
The next 8 floors were travelled in a mix of stony silence and badly suppressed snickering.
I married my wife primarily for her long, lustrous black hair. By the time she was 28, her hair had become long, lustrous and completely white.
For a long, long time—until I got into my 50s—people would refer to her as my mother.
For my own goof, I don’t have to remember back more than 90 minutes.
I had written a story about an ex-drug addict making good in cooking school. She told me she had 3 daughters, one of which ‘is going to be Miss Hawaii.’
Today she came by to say thanks for the story and give me a lemon meringue pie (mmmm, pie). She brought one of her daughters with her and introduced me to her. I said, ‘Ah, the one who is going to be Miss Hawaii.’
Then I realized that it wasn’t the pretty daughter.
That was even worse than the time I described the taste of whale at a Greenpeace fund-raising dinner.
Posted by Harry Eagar on 2006 06 15 at 10:12 PM • permalink#85: Pardon me, but I am already the President of the Habib fan club; I have long admired the combination of wit and colorful language that marks his comments. And although I sometimes am only able to follow his meaning at what you might call an inconspicuous distance, the mere sound of it all is pure poetry.
that method doesn’t work in firefox on the mac, sadly
Ah, sorry to hear that, Bingster.
NOT!!!!
BUAWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
JeffS, is that ellipsinationist language you’re engaging in?
LOL, PW!!!!!
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2006 06 15 at 10:56 PM • permalinkIt must be something that works in browsers other than Firefox, then. I only use Firefox.
Posted by Andrea Harris, Administrator on 2006 06 15 at 10:58 PM • permalinkWhen I was working at the airport, a colourful Quarantine officer named Lindsay Rigby was infamous for his foxes paws- a couple really stand out-
While digging though an Asian lady’s bag a pulling out all manner of bizzare foodstuffs, including dried seahorses and canned grasshoppers, he remarked “you people would eat a shit sandwich, except you don’t like bread.” thinking she only spoke cantonese; she replied “actually I’m quite fond of baguettes.”
Another incident included a couple of Carmelite nuns, carrying bottled of water from Lourdes. “Will that be alright, officer?” they asked. “It’s OK, I’ll just boil the Christ out of it”. he replied.
That one got to the ministerial level.
Jabberwocky : re #71 :
I’m glad you hadn’t become a girlfriend, Bob.
Um.. you do know that I’m transitioning, don’t you?
Transitioning - otherwise known as “changing sex”?
And that it was unplanned and involuntary?
ZING! :)Habib, the last one’s got me going.
I worked once with an utter nutter “Black Jack’ Ruane who used to tell the kids he was an ex mercenary, he looked ex army and would often break into french and talk about the good old days back in Le Congo Belgique.
Anyway, I went up to Jack one day when he was at the pigeon holes and said “Jack, did you see that Rambo is the movie on TV tonight? ” To which he replied “good, I hope he kills a few slopes’. As I turned, I noticed an Asian colleague standing behind him, poor lady.
Same place, I walk in and say, gee whats that awful smell? Only to find a colleague had been diagnosed with cancer and had a colostomy bag, he was there when I said it.
Your comments box isn’t big enough to list all my shamefully inappropriate and ill-timed comments and/or actions.
Posted by Tony.T.Teacher on 2006 06 15 at 11:24 PM • permalinkWhen throwing minties at the blind, be sure to lick them first( the minties, that is) or they wont stick.
Posted by Daniel San on 2006 06 15 at 11:34 PM • permalinkLooking through the responses, I was pleased to note that my life has been remarkably faux pas-free. Except for that time when I was 11 or so when I casually told my same-aged cousin that Uncle So and So wasn’t really his dad, that his dad was a musician known only as “Brownie” who’d been passing through town. From the sudden hysterical sobbing I knew I’d erred.
London mid ‘70’s. JC, a friend of mine walked into a Golders Green butchers shop and ordered a pound of pork sausages. When told that they don’t sell them he proclaimed loudly in front of other customers (some with curly locks and black hats), “What sort of bloody butcher’s shop is this anyway” and walked out. Very embarrassed when he found out later.
So who was this rugby loving, beer swilling conservative redneck from Hawkes Bay NZ? None other than John Cameron, now Head of News of Current Affairs at the good ‘ol ABC. Haven’t seen him for more than 25 years but surely he couldn’t have changed that much. Maybe for good dollars you can put up with anyting from your staff.
Posted by Whale Spinor on 2006 06 15 at 11:55 PM • permalinkTossing “minties”? Ah yes, I attended a certain military college that produces navy officers in a quaint Maryland water town. I recall that when we’d march in formation on Saturdays to home football games, we’d generously toss treats to the little kids lining the streets to watch us (ie, we’d viciously pelt the little buggers in the head as hard as we could with hard candy, right in front of their parents, and totally get away with it. That was a freakin’ riot).
Habib, you got me. I’ve been sitting here giggling and snickering my way through the thread when I got to the “Pat the Hat” story. My god, what a wonderful thing to think of to say on the spur of the moment. It isn’t that such things never come to me, but that they never come until I’m 10 miles down the rode too late. You’re a oner. I am always delighted when I encounter that increasingly rare creature, a true wit.
Paco, you stand in no one’s shadow. And I stand corrected - it is “Huck” as in Huckleberry. Bless his heart. Do you know what happened?
Hi to all yall and thanks for welcoming me back.
103
Salty, I thought his name was an
anagrammalapropism* of Holey F…* I forget what they are called, but this is one:
What’s the difference between a brewery horse and a cavlary horse?
The cavalry horse ‘darts before the fray’.
(what’s left unsaid is that the brewery horse ‘farts before the dray’.)
But you gotta admit, Habib is bloody funny.
I’ve made a lot of verbal blunders but have blocked most of them out, thankfully. The only incident that springs to mind was the time when a library coworker told me that my brother had come by to pick me up, which I found confusing, since I had no brother in the vicinity. Turned out to be my husband, who has similar colouring to me but no genetic ties, obviously. Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to give him a very obvious kiss after that.
As a Captain running a training team with about six Sergeants in it we were sitting around at mornoes. For some reason the discussion moved to marriage/divorce. I said that once is a mistake, twice is stupid, but three times is un-effing believable. The conversation died. I quickly worked out two of the Sergeants were on their third wives with another about to hitch up number three.
So much for bonding with the Other Ranks!
When I was in Year 8 a kid in my class, Marcus, told another kid, Simon, he couldn’t go to his party.
“Why not, Marcus?” I said. “Won’t mummy let you?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Marcus replied.
“Why not?” I replied.
“Because my mum’s dead.”
Ooops.Posted by Ben Haslem on 2006 06 16 at 03:03 AM • permalinkWhen I was a very young reporter, I interviewed a high school boy who was on the school wrestling team, although he had a withered leg.
He was cool about it. Not so much me.
I asked him what else he liked to do besides wrestling. He named three or four things, including golf.
ME: ‘What’s your handicap?’
HIM: ‘My leg.’
His mother was there. Did she give me a look?
Posted by Harry Eagar on 2006 06 16 at 03:11 AM • permalinkThe next one was almost tragic. Patience please, this takes a while to set up.
We are in a remote era when bars served 3.2 beer legally to 18-year-olds. My drinking mates and I were in our mid-, late-20s and all of us but one were married.
Tom, the single one, had had a wretched childhood (drunken, absent father, schizophrenic mother, brutal caretakers) and had a very difficult time getting really close to anyone, and was very conscious of that.
He was a good-looking, charming lad, and was working his way through a series of lovely, young virgins. We, to cover up our envy, rode him hard about cradle-robbing.
Eventually he settled on one and they did make a good team. ‘I think this is it, fellas. We really can get along.’
What we knew but he didn’t was that she was only 17 and in high school. He thought she was 18 or 19 and in college. Because no one enforced liquor laws, she drank with us at our favorite saloon.
For her 18th birthday, we arranged a party and bought her a beer. She raised it up and said, ‘Legal at last!’
He was so distressed at having been caught dating jailbait—again—that he broke up with her. She was devastated, and he went through a long period of self-doubt, recrimination, regret, general gloom and overconsumption of Budweiser.
O, and did I say he was Catholic?
I managed to make things worse by setting him up with a woman a few years older than we were who had told me she wanted to ball him. What I didn’t realize was that she was getting desperate about her unmarried state (I said this was in a bygone era) and had decided to do something about it—she stopped taking the pill.
He ended up marrying her.
So much for mateship.
Posted by Harry Eagar on 2006 06 16 at 03:30 AM • permalinkI swear this is true.
Many years ago I was a student living in a co-ed university college. One Saturday morning I was woken by the PA speaker in my room at some ungodly unnatural hour to tell me I had a phone call. Must have been about 11am.
I staggered out in an appalling state to the floor phone to take the call. It was the mother of my girlfriend who also was a resident of the college. She asked me if I knew where her daughter was as she couldn’t be raised in her room. I guess she assumed she was in my room. As it happened she wasn’t and I didn’t.
The mother then asked me to find her and give her a message. Her grandmother had just died suddenly. After some appropriate sympathetic noices I wandered off to look for the girl, still in a hungover and confused state.
I found her in the billiard room. Discreetly and as gently as possible I break the terrible news. Tears, hugs, kisses on the forehead ... the whole scene. Then I see her off at the bus stop on her way home.
A few days later she arrives back at the college. I go to greet her but I notice she is looking at me funny. Turns out that in my befuddled condition I had got the message wrong in a fundamental respect. It wasn’t her her grandmother. It was her grandfather.
I wonder whatever happened to her?
Dear Forum Editor,
I used to think all the letters to your magazine were made up, but the other night I met the most beautiful double amputee women I have ever laid eyes on… Oops. Wrong website.
Posted by Infidel Tiger on 2006 06 16 at 03:46 AM • permalinkBackground: I have recently moved to France to get married with a French girl and I am still getting my head around the language.
What happened: Lunch with the family. Me, my fiancee, various brothers and sisters, in-laws and grandparents. My French is not so good and I am struggling to keep up with the conversation.
Someone asks me about attending a lunch with Bon Papa and Bonne Mamman (Grandad and Grandma) next week and it could either be on Tuesday or Wednesday. Which do I prefer?
To which I replied: Bon Papa.
Silence.
Posted by Villeurbanne on 2006 06 16 at 03:51 AM • permalinkA couple of my friends stopped by my apartment late one evening to invite me to join them at a late-night party. One of my friends wanted to stop by his apartment along the way to see if his roommate would like to join us. We all bust into his apartment, he throws open his roommates bedroom door, and the three of us stand their looking at the roommate in full Brokeback Mountain action with some guy.
He shut the door, we three walk out rather stunned. As we’re driving away in silence, I couldn’t help but say, “Hey! At least he was in the driver’s seat!” Somehow, it sounded better in my head.A couple of years later and I am still a long haired student. A mate of mine and I are driving on a remote and quiet road in central west Queensland. We get pulled over by a police car allegedly for speeding.
The cop is overbearing and surly. Almost angry, in a way only Queensland cops of that era were. He doesn’t like the look of us and decides to do a “roadworthy” on the heap of junk we are driving.
He notices a couple of high-powered rifles on the backseat.
“What are they for?” he asks. “Shooting wild pigs?”
“We didn’t know there was enough of you out here to make it worthwhile” answers my friend.Later at the station he claimed “It just slipped out”.
This one time, back in 2000, I had to design ballots for the Presidential election. Being a Democrat, I incompetently chose a design that a five-year-old could figure out, but was too big a challenge for our constituency of the elderly and the stupid. So a lot of them voted for Pat Buchanan instead of Al Gore, and George Bush ended up being President. Luckily for me, my fellow Democrats would rather believe that the Republicans are as crooked as we are, rather than we Democrats are as stupid as we are, and I totally avoided getting blamed in any way. Kind of weird, the way I ended up being one of the most important people in American history and nobody knows my name. Whew!
-Theresa LaPore, Palm Beach Board of Elections.
A friend of mine was talking to a colleague at work who mentioned that his 15-year-old daughter was going on her first date and how many other firsts would ensue: first kiss, first boy-girl dance—
My friend chimed in, “First fuck . . .”
He’s a computer guy. He had absolutely no idea how that sounded. Almost lost his job, of course.
#64 similar story - guy called john paterson used to run the health department in victoria - he was a dwarf in a wheelchair. woman manager went into his office to complain about the glass ceiling. ranted on & on, finishing up with something like “you have no idea how bad discrimination is”. he replied “erm, i think i do - i’m a crippled dwarf”. exit one very mortified whinger
Ok, here’s but one.
The school district I reside in was trying hard to persuade the property owners to vote for a badly needed property tax increase. In the US, property taxes are used primarily to fund the operation of public schools. I have no idea what means are used in Australia but I suspect it involves kangaroos and kegs of bitter in some manner.
I received an email from my boss’s wife who is one of those stay at home moms that are involved on important committees. The email was an earnest plea to me and a few others for our support for the upcoming vote on the bond issue. I sent a reply explaining that I would indeed vote in favor of the new funds. But I thought it was important to note that the chances for the increase in taxes passing was none so good. And I listed those reasons including the fact that the teachers were the highest paid in the state, they probably don’t deserve it, frankly they’re a spoiled and coddled lot, and they need to buckle down and work harder like businesses are asking their employees to do.
Unfortunately, I sent the email to everyone listed on the email. Thirty people. Many of which included every freaking principal, heads of various teachers associations, and the more influential teachers at my children’s schools.
To say the email generated a frenzy of fuss and feathers would be an understatement.
Posted by wronwright on 2006 06 16 at 05:56 AM • permalinkA few years later and I have finally graduated and got a haircut. I’m on my way to a masquerade party. It was a “theme” party and I’m dressed as a “Chinaman” and have been given the job of picking up the Chinese food order from the local take-away.
By prior arrangement I go around the back of the restaurant to pick up the large order direct from the kitchen. I’m wearing a coolie hat, Fu Manchu beard and moustache, elaborate designed long silk coat, yellow make-up ... the works.
I open the door and walk straight into the small kitchen. It must have had about a dozen staff, all busier than a centipede at a toe-counting contest. Cooks, assistant cooks, dishwashers ...
And every one of them was Chinese.
In 1976, I was an English/History teacher with a Year 7 class (for non-Aussies, the first year of high school, about 11 or 12 years old, all very innocent and cherubic). They were the ‘dumb’ class in the year, so I’d construct little word puzzles to improve their spelling. You know the grids (syndicated as ‘Wonderwords’) filled with individual letters, where you have to find words spelled up, down, sideways and diagonally, backwards and forwards? To make one, you take an empty grid, plonk in the words you want them to find, and then fill the others at random.
The lesson was going well: they were working quietly, looking for words associated with hobbies, as I recall.
Then a hand went up.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“I don’t know if this is a word or not.”
“Which word?”
“The one right in the middle. I’ll show you.”
And then, as all the little darlings focused on the middle of the grid, he pointed out ‘C-U-N-T’.
It took a fair while to regain control, and my self respect.Many years ago, when I was young and an idiot, I served as a judge in a high-school forensics contest. One of the rounds I drew to judge was poetry recitation.
The kids trotted out the usual stuff - two or three Prince Hals at Agincourt, that sort of thing - when the turn came for a sweet, pretty girl, who chose to recite Edward Lear’s “The Owl and the Pussycat”.
Her recitation was more earnest than talented - what Patrick O’Brien called “an earnest moo”. But when she got to the lines
O Pussy, my Pussy
O Pussy, my LoveI cracked up. And all the other males in the room took that as their queue to crack up as well. The poor girl was an innocent who had no idea what was wrong; she turned red and nearly burst into tears.
I pulled myself together quickly, when I realized what an ass I was making of myself. Needless to say, I gave her a first on the recitation, as a consolation prize.
Posted by Urbs in Horto on 2006 06 16 at 07:36 AM • permalinkOther way round: A couple of years back I was in a meeting of 60 or so. The middle-aged woman behind me stood to say something - one these confident women who think their opinions are valuable.
There was some background noise so I decided to put my in-ear hearing aids on program 2, which involves pressing a small momentary switch on each aid.
Next thing I get a ‘thwack’ across the back of the neck. What the fu…” I thought. Then I realised this woman had thought I was putting my fingers in my ears to shut her out and had biffed me.
I half turned so she could see my aids and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing her squirm. Lovely moment.
Posted by walterplinge on 2006 06 16 at 07:57 AM • permalinkOh man, did I ever goof an email. I once wrote a lovely note to my wife explaining in vivid detail what I planned to do to her that evening. She was in the GAL being that we worked at the same post at the time. I sent the note off with a chuckle and was quite surprised several minutes later when the gentleman (whose address was just below my wife’s) politely declined my offer.
Oye.Must have been almost 40 years ago, the singer Andy Williams was hosting a live TV broadcast and Stevie Wonder was on the monitor at a remote location. Andy, apparently the only person on earth unaware that Stevie is blind, and grinning like an imbecile, kept shouting into the microphone, “Stevie can you see me, Stevie can you see me..” Stevie’s mouth worked like a goldfish attacking food but no sound came out - the audience was stunned into silence and they cut to commercial. Hilarious.
Three of my mates came to a fancy dress party at RMC Duntroon dressed as aboriginals with nooses around their necks. Unfortunately there was an SBS reporter at the party - they sat on it for about six months before going public at an inopportune time for the government. All hell broke loose.
I was sitting having breakfast with the wife and I wanted her to pass me the sugar. I meant to say “pass the sugar, sugar”. Unfortunately “You’ve ruined my life you stupid bitch” slipped out.
An oldie but a goodie.When I was in law school, I came out of the building one Saturday AM at which time there was a large road race getting ready to start nearby. I iimediately spotted a guy in running togs leaning into his truck which was parked in the handicapped spot. We had several students in wheelchairs who need those sopts, so I politely but firmly told him to move. He stood up from the truck, thusly clearly showing that he was missing his entire left arm. For some reason, he was really pissed.
Posted by Hucklebuck on 2006 06 16 at 10:53 AM • permalinkThis is the reply to British Foreign Secretary’s request for a dance at a diplomatic reception: “I shall not dance with you for three reasons,” came the reply. “First because you are drunk, second, because this is not a waltz but the Peruvian national anthem and third, because I am not a beautiful lady in red; I am the Cardinal Bishop of Lima.”
I notice many people have awkward moments with disabled people. Maybe it’s because we don’t fraternise too much with them. I once argued with the NSW Manager of my last employer to run an advertisement with the TTY number for the Deaf. His PR manager said we couldn’t use the word “Deaf” in the ad, only “Hearing Impaired”. A few meetings later, we got both. I rang the Deaf Society of NSW and they said they were deaf. That didn’t ring any ears with my bosses. Not even when I told my bosses that my brother was deaf as a beetle, that is profoundly deaf, and he was part of the Deaf community. Only perseverance meant the word Deaf got into the ad. I left the year later, and the word Deaf was missing from the next Ad. That’s PC ...
I was once in a pro shop at my country club with my friend Wang. I was setting him up with the whole schmear—clubs, balls, glove, hat…and I bought some naked-lady tees for myself. Anyway, I saw this horrid white hat on display and said, “Look at that hat! I bet you get a free bowl of soup when you buy that.” Just then I turned and saw Judge Smails wearing that very same hat and I said, “But it looks good on you!”
On my way to a cousins wedding, I stopped atthe grooms brothers house and gave him a call. “How about I come up there for a while?” I asked.
“No,” he says, “the Indians on the rez are having an uprising and it’s not safe for white people here.”
Cut to two days later at the formal meeting of the respective inlaw familys dinner, where I ask “Hey Donny, How did that Indian uprising turn out? I see you managed to get past them with your scalp!”
The room stopped for about a minute. Conversation halted. Evil eyes turned toward my cousin.
I swear to God I had no idea his bride was a full blood Macah Indian. I thought they were Puerto Rican or something.Posted by papertiger on 2006 06 16 at 09:07 PM • permalinkMany years later and I’m working in an open plan office. I have a long standing bet with an old uni pal that the Beatles will never get back together. We set a time limit of by the year 2000. The bet becomes widely known.
One morning the phone on my desk rings. It’s my old pal. “Some bastard has just shot John Lennon”, he reports. “He’s dead”.
Shocked, I loudly repeat the news. My pal confirms.
A confused pause. Then I say, “Well I guess that means I collect on the bet”.
I hang up and turn around. My workmates are looking at me aghast. As if I had just walked into the office after rolling in cow manure.
I never did collect on that bet. Nor have I ever been allowed to live it down.
We were in the public bar of the pub at Cylinder Beach on North Stradbroke Island when the same news came on the TV- I remarked to the barflies alongside that “well I guess Yoko’s on her ono” and recieved similar approbation; maybe he really was bigger than Jesus.
BTW- how do you get the Beatles into an MG Midget?
Paul and Ringo in the front seats, John and George in the ashtray.
Once, quite recently, when presented an opportunity to publicly present one or more of my awkward moments, bad timings, embarrassments, enflatulations, fauxes pas, gaffes, humilitations, inopportune blurtings-out, and/or malapreposterations, and shamefully enough, I instead kept quiet.
Oh rue the day!Posted by Huck Foley on 2006 06 17 at 04:36 AM • permalink
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Making jokes about the vision challenged is just one step away from rounding up progressives and sending them to death camps.
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