My Awesomely Random Life (and Everything in Between)

Posts tagged ‘Embarrassing’


Oy. Vey.

Before I tell this story of absolute crazy-applesauceness, I ask, I beg, I plead you to not laugh.

Too hard.

Actually, scrap that request. This story is too hilarious not to ROFL*.

*Side note: Every time I see this, I can’t help but think of Scooby Doo talking. Right?

Let me preface this by saying that I was in a frenzied state of exhaustion, worry and stress. Not that it is any excuse for what happened, but it adds just a little bit more cushioning to my ego…

2:00PM. Tuesday, October 23

Me and the pup just got back from a very eventful trip to the vet. Thunder had been feeling a bit sickly the past few weeks; he developed a mean-looking rash on his legs and tummy, has lost a bit of weight and was just not acting his normal psycho-cute self. In fact, it was just last Friday when I had to take him into the ER because he couldn’t stand or walk or sit without whining or wincing in pain (the poor guy). I decided it was time to take him in to see if the doc could find out what was causing all of this not so nice shtuff to happen to my main man.

After a very drooly car ride, three poop bags, a shot and blood test, the super nice veterinarian told me that he would call me in the morning with the results, hoping to see what was going on. He seemed a bit worried that he had an internal infection but would know more after the results came back. This of course made me sprout five gigantic worry worts on my forehead. I absolutely HATE seeing my pup in pain, even more so when I can’t do anything about it.

Shot gun!

I pulled up into my driveway, let Thunder out of the car, and proceeded to walk into the house. Now normally this wouldn’t be a huge thang; I get in and out of my car ALL THE TIME. Typically I park in my garage but do to the big ‘ol boat that my dad recently placed there to store for the winter, I have had to park outside. Again, not a big deal.

The big deal comes in when you take into consider this equation:

My BEAST of a driveway (from the bottom looking up)


My frazzled state of mind


the fact that I, in the mix of all of this, forgot to pull my parking break up all of the way.

What does this equation equal you ask?

A runaway car.

5:45PM Tuesday, October 23

After throwing the frozen pizza into the oven (It wasn’t delivery. It was DiGiorno), I leashed up Thunder and took him to go potty. I walked out my front yard, walked down my driveway and up the street, he did his thang (four times. Man, that guy can pee!) and we walked back into the house.

6:00PM Tuesday, October 23

After just having sat down to eat said perfectly crispified but still chewy pizza, I received a call from my neighbor who lives across the street. To say that it was one of the most interesting phone calls I had ever gotten would be an understatement.

“Yeah, uh, Wendi. This is Dave Penley.”

“Hey Dave. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m pretty good. Hey, listen. If you were wondering where your car went, you might want to look at my house. (laughing) Yeah, um, your car is in my backyard. (laughing)



6:03PM Tuesday, October 23

I charge out of my front door, make like Forest and run across the street and into the backyard of my neighbor’s yard where I find my bug Brewtus, just chilling against a small pine tree. It was almost as if he was winking at me.

“Oh hey girl! Just thought I’d go on a little adventure. Miss me?”

Now there are many crazy points to this story. The first was that I was outside not a mere two minutes before Dave called me, letting me know about his new lawn ornament. I was so used to having my car in the garage, out of sight and mind, that it didn’t even cross my mind that something was missing in my driveway.

The second, and probably most important of all the crazies, was that no one, and hardly anything, was harmed during my car’s escape act. I was SO incredibly lucky that there were no kids or animals in the street or yard that would have been injured by Brewtus’ antics.  With the exception of a few gnomes and decorative garden frogs (and that poor tree that stopped my car from rolling), my neighbor’s yard was pretty much in tact and the only damage that was incurred to my car were a few minor scratches, a broken reverse lense and this giant plastic thingy that fell off (from where I still have yet to find out. If you know anything about anything about cars, VW bugs in particular and could help me out, let a girl know).

If you look at my driveway again, this time looking down at my neighbor’s house, it seems as though my bug should have ended up in their kitchen. It was as someone, or something (one of my many guardian angels, perhaps) was driving my car. It left distinct tire marks that took a varied path, making it seem that someone was steering the wheel, directing it around the bushes and more importantly, keeping far away from the house.

Very weird? Yes.

Very lucky? Heck to the yes!!!

I still cannot believe what happened and have to chuckle when I think about the absolute ridonkulousness of it all.


Oy. Vey.

P.S. I got the results fromm Thunder’s tests this morning and thankfully, all is good under (and in) his hood. He has to take antibiotics for the next three weeks for his rash (which will hopefully start making him feel better very soonly), but other than that he is perfectly healthy pup. Thank goodness.

Question of the day:

Guardian angels: Do you believe in them?

Have you ever experienced a runaway car? Bike? Motorized vehicle of any kind?

How do you discipline a runaway car, anyway?






The ‘Oops Wave’

You: Waves hand.

Me: Notices you waving your hand.

You: Smiles and says hi.

Me. Waves my hand back and is about to say “hi” back when…

You: Look at me with the oddest expression on your face.

Me: Realizes (with a face the shade of the Kool Aid man) you were waving your hand not at me, but to the person behind me and are now thinking to yourself ‘Who is that strange girl?’

Awkward duck.

How many times has this happened to you? Embarrassing, no? The absolute worst is when you don’t even know the person who is waving ‘at you’, but you wave back at them because you think that maybe you really do know them but have just forgotten their name, or your too far away from them at the moment to see and recognize them fully, so in order to protect yourself from the embarrassment of not waving back because you forgot who they were, you wave overly enthusiastic like you really do know who they are, when in reality you really don’t, and end up embarrassing yourself because you did wave. Whoofta. I think I need a breather.

What are you supposed to do after you realize that this person wasn’t waving at you, but at someone entirely different? Unfortunately for me, I have found myself in this very situation on multiple occasions (this very morning in fact), always the ‘blind-sided waver-atter’. Fortunately for you, these blush-inducing faux-pas situations have given me some great tips to pass on to you on how to deal with the after math. I have found that depending on the magnitude of the wave (Was it a ‘jump up and down’ wave? A beauty pageant wave? A full-arm jiggle wave?) , the notice-factor (how much did the person see and think that you were waving at them on a scale from 1-10?), location, and even weather, these go-to excuses are a fantastic way to cover up and hide your ‘Oops-I-thought-you-meant-me’ slip-up.

First off, always try to play it cool. Try not to look like you know you misinterpreted the other person’s gesture; they can smell embarrassment a mile away. Smile and at casual. And never. I repeat. NEVER. Under any circumstances, start LOLing silly to yourself while at the same time trying to duck behind the lady walking in front of you who is carrying a small poodle in her purse. It always turns out bad. Not that I have any personal experience with this or anything…

Of course if you are too caught up in the moment to think on your ‘cool-ain’t no thang but a chicken wing’ feet, you could always act like you’re waiving at the person behind them, even going as far as to shout something ridiculous at your imaginary friend like “Hey how’s it going man?”. Note, this only works in a somewhat crowded area; you don’t want the person to turn around and see nothing but his shadow behind him. At that time, he will assume that you have some issue that requires immediate attention. You could also try doing the whole ‘swatting at the invisible fly in front of your face’ act, pull the ‘Boy, it’s hot out here and I need to fan myself down’ card (this is where the weather factor comes into play–doesn’t fare to well in the winter unless you’re abnormally hot all of the time), act like Mr. Suave and pretend you’re geling your hair back John Travolta style–both Grease and Saturday Night Fever will work– and last but not least–and this should be used only as a last resort option–you could jump into the bushes and wait for the person to pass (although make sure it’s not a rose-bush because, well, OUCH!)

Note, no matter which action you do decide to take in these kinds of situations, it will most likely cause some embarrassment, a funny story to tell to your family at the dinner table later that night, and possibly a few scratches (like I said, NOT the rose bushes).

And with that, I wave to you a great rest of your Thursday!

P.S. To the man who waved at me but not at me who I waved back to but not really…”Man, it was hot out and I desperately needed to fan myself off.”

Ya think he bought it?

Elevator Escapades






According to, Elisha Otis is credited with inventing the first passenger elevator in 1853. The first elevator of this type was installed in 1857.


 There are approximately 700,000 elevators in North America.


 Elevators are classified as mass transportation and are the safest means of mass transit by the National Transportation Safety Board excluding Automobiles. This form of transportation carries more passengers than all other forms of transportation combined on a daily basis!



 Yesterday, I got stuck in one. 

I assure you, it didn’t break down because I carrying an extra horse in my bag.

My Tuesday started out like any other Tuesday would. I woke up, went for a quick run on the treadmill while catching up on some Boy Meets World, took a shower, ate a bowl of Corn Pops (okay, ate two bowls of Corn Pops), and headed off to work. This ‘normal’ day however suddenly took a turn for the abnormal once I reached my office building. It had been raining cats and dogs all morning, accompanied by gale-force winds and a lovely rumble of thunder and strike of lightning thrown in for good measure (don’t even get me started on the hike to work that I had to make…my brand-spanking new umbrella broke, right after it nearly took me away Mary Poppins-style–on the plus side, I got soaked and was wet for the remainder of the day…ugh, not fun). 


 After finally reaching my building, I shook off the access water from my coat, rung my hair out, and got into the elevator. Once inside, I pressed 6 like I do everyday to get to my floor. The number key lit up, indicating that I was about to make my assent. Slowly but surely, my elevator car rose to floor two, to floor three, to floor four. Just as my i-pod was getting to the chorus of Hanson’s ‘Thinkin ’bout Somethin’ (great song btw’s), my ascent suddenly came to a stand-still. Initially I wasn’t worried; it must have stopped to pick up another passenger. Well, five minutes go by, and I began to get a little more than nervous. 

Some UW-Madison students decided to have a little fun with one of the dorm elevators.

It’s safe to say I was most definitely ’Thinkin ’bout Something’; I was thinking that this must have been a joke. I was thinking that I had never, ever been stuck in an elevator before and I didn’t really want to change that track record now. I was thinking that  I never got to say goodbye to my family and friends and tell that I love them. I never got to see the Brewers win a World series, never got to visit the Eifel Tower, go skydiving or play Plinko on the Price is Right (which is just not the same without good ‘ol Bob Barker).  Lastly, I was thinking that I totally could go for a hot fudge sundae. Or a hot, right out of the oven chocolate chip cookie. Yes, in times of stress or high-pressure, I often turn to delicious junk food, my happy place.

 The once illuminated light on button 6 now was flashing, along with the rest of the floor buttons. I realized that panicking would not solve anything so I jumped into action. A vision of McGyver suddenly came into my mind; if only I had some duct tape, a paper clip, Tic Tacs and a bouncy ball, I could somehow concoct a way out. Sadly, McGyver (or McGruber for that matter) I am not. So instead, I took out my phone and called my boss (thank goodness my phone had reception…remind me to offer a location for the next “Can you  hear me now” commercial), letting her know that I was at work, just not at work. She informed me that the storm had caused a minor power outage in the whole building, leading to the lights, computers, and the elevator to temporarily stop working but that they would be back up and running in a few minutes and to hold tight (it’s not like I had much of a choice, I really wasn’t going anywhere.)

In all actuality, I was only ‘stuck’ in that elevator for a mere ten minutes or so, but let me tell you, those ten minutes felt like a lifetime. Just when I was about to beat my opponent at Scrabble (I am the Scrabble masta, after all), the lights stopped flashing, the engine turned back on and I was moving back on up to the sixth floor. I half expected, half hoped that I would reach my floor, the doors would open, and all of my co-workers would be standing there, clapping, giving me hugs and flowers and cake and saying things like, “Wow, Wendi you are so brave!” and “How did you survive? You must tell us what happened!” What ACTUALLY happened was I reached the floor, the doors opened, and I was greeted by our office dog, Kitty, who looked up at me with eyes as if he was saying, “You are late, Wendi. Now chop, chop, how about you get on those dog treats ASAP.” And you know what, I wouldn’t  have had it any other way (except maybe if Kitty was being held by Brad Pitt or George Clooney..a girl can dream, right).

 Many of you may be wondering if I am now afraid of riding in elevators and to that, I will say ‘no’. The chances of getting stuck in an elevator are slim-to-nill (and it was just my luck that slim-to-nill decided to take a day off yesterday). I may however decide in the future to be a fair-weather elevator rider. 🙂

Because of my recent elevator escapades, I thought I’d share with you some elevator fun…

According to a recent article, the songs below, in instrumental jazz or easy listening versions, have been heard the most in elevators around the world:


When You Wish upon a Star

Hernando’s Hideaway

Dream a Little Dream

You Light up My Life

The Hustle

Sometimes When We Touch


Endless Love

Danke Schoen

Is it just me or is it actually hard to find an elevator that plays music these days? You’d think with the levels of technology being what they are, someone could figure out a way to jam a little Eminem or Black Eyed Peas into those lifts and really raise the roof…err…elevator car.

The next time you are in an elevator, I double-dog dare you to try one or two of these (and bring someone to record it…I have a feeling it would make for excellent YouTube material).

When you get off the elevator, whisper to the others who stayed on, “I’d get off the elevator NOW if I were you.”
Hum the “Mission Impossible” theme, speak into your lapel and say “Right, Jim”
When there is only one other person in the elevator, tap them on the shoulder and then pretend it wasn’t you.
Sit with a desk, pencil cup and a telephone in the elevator. When someone walks in, ask if they have an appointment.
Push a button, pretend it gave you a shock. Smile and go back for more.
Ask the others in the elevator which floor they’re going to, but push the wrong buttons.
Call the Psychic Hotline and ask them if they know which floor you’re on.
Put a cardboard box in the corner; when someone gets on ask them if they can hear ticking.
When the doors close, announce, “Don’t worry, they’ll open again soon.”
Enforce a group hug.
Open your purse slightly and say, “Do you have enough air in there?”
Wave hands wildly at invisible flies buzzing around your head.
Make race car noises when anyone gets on or off.
Stand silent and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.
When arriving at your floor, grunt and strain to yank the doors open, then act embarrassed when they open by themselves.
On the highest floor, hold the door open and demand that it stay open until you hear the penny you dropped down the shaft go “plink” at the bottom.
Stare, grinning, at another passenger for a while, and then announce: “I’ve got new socks on!”
Bet the other passengers you can fit a quarter in your nose.
Frown and mutter “gotta go, gotta go” then sigh and say “oops!”
Sing along with the Muzak.
Show other passengers a wound and ask if it looks infected.
Start a sing-along.
Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers that this is your personal space.


Question of the day: Elevators: Love ’em or hate ’em?



Spin City

“I want to ride my BICYCLE, I want to ride my bike…”

Seemed only fitting  😉

Have any of you ever taken a spin class? If not, let me tell you, it’s an experience…

Yesterday, I decided to wake up at the crack of dawn, albeit, before the crack of dawn, to join some of my friends for a spin class. I had received a free weeks pass at a gym a few blocks from work. I had always wanted to try it out; I thought it would be a lot of fun and really challenging–something I’m always up for. If Kelly Ripa can do it, so can I, right? Plus, we were all going  to grab breakfast afterwards and anyone who knows me knows that I could never turn down free food.

When we got there, we were told that we could either buy spin shoes (who knew that there were special shoes just for spin class) or rent them. I decided to rent them because I didn’t want to fork over $40 (even though they were so cute…think bowling shoes on acid…that can serve as moon shoes too…oh yeah baby, they were that hot!). Speaking of bowling and shoes and bowling and all matters of rented footwear, I never understood the whole concept of ‘renting’ shoes. I try not to think about it too much because the actual idea of wearing a pair of sneakers that someone else had just had their smelly, nasty, grody toes in is so terribly gross. I wonder what people from other countries think when they go bowling for the first time here. “They have shoes, yet they choose to pay to wear another pair that others have worn/sweated in, are usually too big or two small for their feet resulting in major slippage or blisters, and are so bright, they could direct air traffic.” Yupp, that’s about it.After we got decked out in our spiffy shoes, we were asked if we brought water with us. I usually bring a water bottle with me to the gym, but it must have slipped my mind this morning (I had a hard enough time remembering to put on matching socks let alone remember to grab aqua for myself–come to think of it, I wore one Nike sock and one Adidas…oops). The lady recommend we buy a certain water bottle that was sold there at the gym. I wanted to go for the el-cheapo $.99 plastic bottle per usual but she highly suggested the nippled bottle for a staggering $2.99 (yes I said $2.99 for water and yes I said nippled). I followed suit with the rest of my cohorts and bought the fancy bottle (I was so glad I did because when you are riding, it is almost impossible to lift your hands off the bike handles, let alone try to raise and tip back a bottle of water–nippled water bottles–I think I’m a fan).We got there just in time to grab our bikes and get ready for the class to start. The reason why we had to get special shoes was because we actually got strapped onto our bike. Strapped. As in can’t get off-stuck-glued-help me Lord-here we go strapped. This in itself made me kind of  nervous. Now if you’ve never been to a spinning class  before, let me set the scene for you…

Imagine a whole bunch of exercise bikes lined up inside a studio. Riders are on each one, spinning the pedals at a rapid pace. The lights are turned down, pumped up music fills the air, and a way-too peppy instructor with a headset sits atop a lead bike, calling out commands.

“Climb out of the saddle,” she barks at the class. “Big hill coming!” I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to smack that lady (which could constitute as part of  my workout I suppose).

The riders rise as one, pedals spinning faster as they grimace with exertion, sweat dripping off their bodies.

This is what I was witnessing. In all fairness, I was having a pretty good time through most of the class. I LOVED the tunage that they played (and am considering going back just to get the list to put on my i-tunes) and the flashing lights and real scene graphics were so cool–it looked like you were actually riding in San Fransisco up the winding hills or through the streets of New York. About 2/3 of the way through the 45 minute class however, that all changed. First of all, I was sweating like a pig. Seriously, it was not pretty. I was sweating in places I didn’t think people could sweat. Sweat tears were dripping down my face and into my eyes, making it hard to see. To add to this loveliness, I had to pee. Bad. I guess that water rent right through  me because I couldn’t peddle another step. I trid getting off the bike but forgot I was strapped in. I was trying my darndest to get free from the bike but couldn’t for the life of me figure out how it was done. I must have looked like I was in need of some assistance because Drill Sergant Sue, the class instructor/cheerleader Barbie actually got off her bike and came over to help. How embarrassing. And to make matter worse, all she did was simply lift my feet back and up an inch and I was off the bike. I acted very cool and collected on my way out of the studio, but once I hit the hallway, I ran like the wind to the nearest bathroom (which was clear across the gym…have you ever tried running when your bladder is about to explode? Not an easy task or a graceful one at that).

Once I got back, I was lighter and ready to tackle the last few minutes of riding (which was a doosy…up down, up down, peddle peddle peddle, up down, up down, SPRINT! I thought my legs and butt were literally going to fall off, right then and there). I finished strong though and actually had a pretty good time. Take that, miss Ripa! I too am a spin masta…okay,  maybe that’s going too far, but I did have fun and survived…my goals for the class). 

In the end, I think I will give spinning another shot (once I regain feeling in my legs and butt that is). If I were to offer any words of advice for those who are considering trying out a class for yourself:

Wear light and loose clothing.

Get to class a bit early so you can get settled.

Go with the nipple.

And for goodness sakes…pee beforehand!

But the best part of the class by far…

Now this I would do again (and again and again and again)  🙂

Question of the day? Did you ever have an embarrassing gym incident happen to you?

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