Faux Pas Extraordinaire.

The time has arrived, you didn’t expect to come so soon, but it is here. That moment when you must declare a time when you were a major duffus. That moment that when looked back upon makes little beads of sweat figuratively appear on your upper lip.

To start this catharsis of the soul:

Mine occurred once on a major date at a Japanese restaurant. Sitting on the floor amidst oriental pillows a small hibachi table in front of me, the person I am trying to impress across from me on the other side of the table.

The meal started with a sake and accompanied by abalone. It was my first go at abalone and I was shocked to find that a small piece seemed to grow to the size of a basketball once inserted into the gob hole. Lots of chewing and still it grew and grew. Finally just before asphyxiation due to the size, I delicately spit it into my napkin. Not that delicately for my impresssee was staring at me like I had hawked up a tubercular loogie.

Then came the capper, the major faux pas extraordinaire, the waitress, in kimono arrived with a large cup of something that I assumed was a finger bowl. I diddled my fingers in show of absolution in the bowl to the absolute delight of my date, who knew that what I was poking my pinkies in was green tea.

Ah, to relive that moment and not be a dweeb.

What is your story and I know you have a story.

..I take strong exception to your analogy. Guess that taught you to stay away from abalone.

Mine was (with a group of women) dining at Maxim's in Paris and barfing everything up. Fortunately, in the toilet in the friends' hotel room. I came out, they said "Feeling better? Want some champagne?" Second visit to the toilet.

Next morning, had the dry heaves into the bidet in my room. Finally felt like some air later that day and got dressed and went out walking (the friends had returned to Chicago that day, but not before stroking my puky brow to make certain I lived -- yes, I was several years younger).

Anyway, strolling through Paris, but still feeling a bit weak. Kept sitting down on any bench I could find. Should mention I was 22 at the time and this was 1971, era of mini skirts, etc. Men in cars kept honking at me and gesturing for me to come with them. Guess they didn't notice my sick pallor, or thought I was THAT desperate for money. Gave up and returned to my deathbed.

I was 8 months pregnant with my second child. My mother-in-law's best friend held a baby shower for me. I tried to avoid this event before it happened but I failed. I know my m-i-l was trying to be helpful but I did want this shower because I didn't know most of the attendees. Plus, everyone just tried to make it too perfect. I also had a difficult pregnancy and this was difficult for me to attend and just be nice to essential strangers.

So the house is beautiful and a lovely cake is set up in the dining room. I walked in to admire it and the whole table and cake crashed to the floor. I still think I barely touched that table. It turns out that one leg of the table was not attached and it was propped up. So here I am, the so wanting to give birth pregnant woman who just knocked over the probably $50 cake. :eyes:

I know more have courage.

including yourself.

Please.

:D

I really don't have anything to share, not for lack of instances to be sure, but I just can't be bothered typing that much at the mo'. But yours made me giggle on more than one occasion today. I just wanted to share that. :D

Ask me about it.