Having a blog named “Kind of a Mess,” you can imagine that I might know a little something about awkward moments. And cringe-worthy situations. And soul-crushing embarrassment. And you would be right. So when I was asked by The Experiment to review a book called Awkward.: What to Do When Life Makes You Cringe – A Survival Guide
Sam Scholfield, author of Awkward knows a little something about awkward situations too, but she was smart enough to write a book about them. Awkward walks you through crazy and not so crazy situations that might leave you at a loss for words and wondering if you stay perfectly still, maybe your previously undiscovered mutant gene will activate and you’ll suddenly turn invisible.
Sam – after you read her book, you’ll feel on a first name basis too – offers up multiple options on how to handle the situation and battle the awkward monster. You can “Embrace the Awkward,” “Burn the Bridge,” “Evade the Awkward,” Be Honestly Awkward,” or use the two I find hardest to exhibit: “Be Cool” and “Be Mature.” (I’m a WORK IN PROGRESS, OKAY?) By giving these options, she dishes up hilarious ways to deal with the situation. For instance, if when regaling your sexual prowess to a friend in a crowded bar and comparing your skill to that of construction equipment, the bar suddenly gets quiet and hears your conversation. Rather than quickly setting something on fire and fleeing in the ensuing panic, one of the options is to “Embrace the Awkward” and keep going as you exaggerate and embellish the story even more for laughs. (Apparently fire is rarely an option.)
Sam also stars her favorite choice for you, so that when your boss’s fly is down you’ll know that while silent hand signals and adjusting his fly for him are options, your best bet is to let him know that this is really awkward for you to say but his fly is down.
I really like that while Sam does go for the funny, she also gives really sound advice. (Something I know a bit about. *ahem*) She even offers sections in which she tells you how to dodge awkwardness altogether; like discussing an end date with friends before they crash on your couch so you don’t have to deal with unwanted house guests who wore out their welcome two months ago. She’s also pretty succinct. In the end-note for the section on how to deal with being caught talking sh*t about an acquaintance, she gives this advice on how to Dodge the Awkward Monster:
“Don’t be a back-stabbing bitch.”
I approve.
Awkward is not all about mortification and embarrassment, either. Which is nice if you’re like me and have a habit of getting embarrassed FOR people you read about or see on TV… Sam brings up one of my favorite awkward situations – when you say goodbye to someone you don’t know that well and then it turns out that they’re parked in the same direction as you. I HATE THAT!!! For that situation, she gives five options, my favorite being use a distraction like your cell phone so you can avoid having to talk. (Just one more reason cell phones are a godsend.) Awkward also covers situations that you’re not the cause of, such as people who encroach on your space in airplanes or what to do when someone inappropriate hits on you. (Hitting them repeatedly with your purse is not a good option apparently. I’ve been doing this ALL WRONG.)
The best part about Awkward is that Sam peppers the advice with little vignettes of “Something Awkward That (Might Have) Happened.” The story about the pantless girl who super-glued herself to the floor on page 183 is my favorite. (I really hope that actually happened to Sam. And if it did, we need to be friends.)
NOW! Because The Experiment Publishing is AMAZING, they provided me with an extra copy as a giveaway! (You can’t have mine.)
In the comments, leave me your BEST awkward situation and I’ll pick the winner at random. We’re all friends here, so no anonymous comments and valid email addresses only please. (Aliases are acceptable, but just remember if you use your usual email address your gravatar will out you.) This will run until October 5th, 2011 and I’ll announce the winner on October 7th.
And to get the ball rolling, here’s an awkward situation of mine. (God, I can’t believe I’m voluntarily putting this out on the internet…)
When I was in third grade, it was an unusually cold winter so my mom made me wear lacey white tights underneath my drawstring sweatpants that I insisted on wearing. I was at the pencil sharpener when, suddenly, my pants started to fall down. My best friend Michael told me I needed to pull my pants up, but apparently I didn’t understand him and just pulled my shirt down lower. (SO HE SAYS. I remember none of this.) As I turned to go back to my desk, my pants are pretty much around my ankles but I couldn’t feel them because of the tights. I didn’t notice them at all until my teacher was like, “Alyssa, I think you need to pull up your pants.” She then helped me tie them in a double knot as I sniffed and cried in mortification because I was EIGHT.
This is also the year that I threw up as we were lining up to go to the library and nearly got it on the kid in front of me.
Horrible, right? But prepubescent pants-loss is not the awkward part. The only reason I even remember this is because Michael moved away and then came back during high school. One day as we were reminiscing he said, “Do you remember the time your pants fell down in the third grade?” I didn’t really, but he did and reminded me of every detail. And then proceeded to spend the next fifteen years introducing me with, “This is Alyssa. We went to prom in high school and her pants fell down in the third grade.”
NOT KIDDING. Still, to this day. The repetition of it has made the memory much less embarrassing, but made meeting hot guys in college pretty damned awkward.
“Oh, you’re Alyssa! Your pants fell down in the third grade.”
Awesome.
Okay, my moppets, let her fly! Win that copy of Awkward.: What to Do When Life Makes You Cringe – A Survival Guide! And good luck!
***Disclaimer: The above-referenced book and its giveaway copy were provided to me free of charge by The Experiment Publishing Company because they are the awesome. No other compensation was given. Links to the above-referenced book are Amazon affiliate links. Please read my site disclaimer for more details.
Kind of a Mess 
Ohhhhh so many to choose from…
So this one time, The Foliage and I were hitting up garage and moving sales, and we stopped at this one woman’s house. She was a professional chef (immigrated from Korea and started my FAVORITE dumpling place in town), and had a ton of free, professional-grade cookware to give away. So obviously we were all over THAT.
But she kept pressuring us to buy her other worthless crap. And since we’d taken so much of her cookware, we felt like we should. So we said OK, we’d buy her space heater. But we’d run out of cash, so I started to write her a check.
And while I’m writing, she’s telling us some story, and at some point, I say, “Rere?” Because that’s how I pronounce “really.” It’s not racist, it’s Scooby Doo. But I said it to an Asian woman. Without thinking. And then was paralyzingly horrified at myself. And then she wouldn’t tell me her name to put on the check. And then The Foliage and I tried to slink out, but we were carrying the cast iron pans she’d given us, and there’s really no way to make a graceful exit with a stack of those bad boys.
I have many more than one awkward moment, but this one was particularly embarrassing. It was sixth grade, soooo 1993 I think it was, and two English classes were getting together to watch a movie about some book that we had all read. I had on a new outfit that I felt great in, a bright orange and bright pink gauzy flowy top, pink leggings and matching pink headband (and no – the outfit is not the awkward part although it should have been, but remember it IS 1993). I was always the quiet chubby girl. Always. I had a few close friends, but by no means was I the class clown.
So, after this movie is over the one classroom full of two classrooms worth of kids are just sitting around talking while the teacher returns the VCR to wherever it needed to go. I was standing up talking to a friend and when I went to sit down – there was no chair. Now, I didn’t just fall on my ass. No. I fell on my ass and almost somersaulted backwards. Like legs over my head in the air flailing. My gauzy top flew up, and all I could think was “oh my god my boobs”! (Remember chubby – I had boobs in 3rd grade). I don’t think anyone saw the girls, but the kid who pulled the chair out (Jason, I still remember his name) then jumped on the floor and imitated my fall. The room was silent before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
That was damn awkward for 1993 me, let me tell you.
Okay, so here’s my favorite awkward moment: Senior year of high school, I was in calculus class with a few of my friends. My high school had those desk-chair combos where they’re attached to each other and all one piece. My eraser fell off the corner of my desk, and not wanting to actually get up to get it, I tried just leaning over to reach it from my seat. But I couldn’t reach it, so I leaned a little farther and a little farther . . . until I completely fell over, with the whole desk and chair, in the middle of the lesson. Eeeeeeeveryone in the class, teacher included, turned to stare at me, and see if I was all right. Meanwhile, I’m sitting there on the floor in the middle of my desk and chair, laughing hysterically. I could not make eye contact with anyone in class for the rest of the period, or I would just burst into giggles again. It was special.
oh man. “don’t be a back-stabbing bitch.” noted.
in college I was placed into a triple with 2 random girls – one of the girls was great, the other was, well, awful. we were all friends at first but as time passed, her true personality came out and she was fairly unbearable to be around most of the time. But! she had no other friends so we let her live with us another year. She ended up transferring schools, which was great because we were about to tell her there was no way in hell she could live with us the next year. Over the course of 2 years of living with this girl, there was much of the venting behind this girl’s back, I must admit. We didn’t really think we had the option of telling her off for a number of reasons, so when she transferred we decided to remain on good terms..
Fast forward a few years, we had stayed in touch via facebook and the occasional email, though she never asked how we were, only ranted about her own crap all the time. One day she sent me a nice email that actually inquired about my life and seemed to genuinely care, so I (thought I) forwarded it to our mutual roommate and went on about “oh look at this nice email from X, she’s actually being NICE for a change and not just complaining about things.” and then I hit send and immediately realized I had actually hit REPLY and not FORWARD so it just went right back to this girl.
My fix was immediately apologizing and calling myself an asshole. She responded graciously but never spoke to me again. I felt bad because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but honestly it was a relief to finally have it out in the open..
Ohhh mannn. That is pretty much my internet nightmare — and I’ve come close to it a few times, but never actually pressed send.
Oh, Alia, chairs are evil.
I’m the oldest of three. My brothers and I are close, but they have spent their lives making sure I’ve had embarrassing moments. (I’m sure I’ve never done it to them. *halo* ) For instance, there’s the holiday tradition of trying to get me to laugh so hard that my beverage comes out of my nose. This was best accomplished one Thanksgiving by the talented use of a spoon and fading sunlight. I was drinking orange juice. It was not pretty.
The “best”, however, was no fault of theirs. They just happen to be the only witnesses to the whole thing.
I was in junior high, and the three of us were in our playroom sitting around a card table on folding chairs, playing some board game or another. The room had recently been remodeled, with help from our Grandpa, to have a wall lined with bookshelves. The wall behind me, as it happens. I started to lean back and the folding chair folded. Closed. With me stuck inside it. I tipped far enough back that I could no longer reach the floor or the table, but my head was leaning on the shelves. Stop and picture it. A tweenaged girl, tall and chubby, folded inside a folding chair tilted backward, flailing all four limbs, and only kept off the floor because her head is nearly wedged in a bookshelf. My brothers were howling with laughter, I was laughing and screaming and crying and flailing. Our parents heard the ruckus, came downstairs and rescued me.
And I have spent my adult life telling people not to lean back in their chairs.
Oh, that definitely made me chuckle. But I will agree with you on the chairs being evil sentiment! 🙂
A guy at work asked me out and I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I’m married… to a lady.’
…
Awkward, awkward. But also REALLY funny later.
I can’t believe I’m writing this… but at least I’m in good company. I agree that chairs are evil though – about a month ago I fell right through one! Good times…
The one story I never tell ANYONE happened in second grade (that gives me some slack, right?). It was story time or some other activity where we were all seated on the ground and listening to the teacher. All of us being quiet, supposed to be focused on her, etc. Our teacher was a nice woman, a bit older and very firm, strict if she was angry.
So when I put up my hand in the middle of whatever her presentation was she wasn’t very receptive. First she tried ignoring me than after a while with my hand still desperately in the air she told me to put my hand down until she was done.
I didn’t. I’m pretty sure I started waving it but soon it was too late… I think my teacher learned a lesson that day – she certainly looked surprised. I learned a lesson that day too.
Screw school protocol if you really really really have to go to the bathroom.
Far better than having an accident in the middle of the classroom while everybody’s seated on the floor. I can only hope my shame and embarrassment has exaggerated how bad an ‘accident’ I had in my memory.
Sadface to this one . . . that teacher is a jerk. And I was a teacher for 5 yrs AND the kid who always followed the rules so I speak with authority. I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm but hopefully she did learn a lesson!
Since most everyone is sharing stories from the nineties (is there any other decade more cringe inducing?), my story takes place in 93. Seventh grade. I am wearing my favorite purple and blue flowered pants. All of a sudden, I begin to experience severe stomach pains and my pants starts to become tight. By 5th period, I couldn’t take it anymore and went to my favorite tearcher, a man, and explained my symptoms. He took one look at my abdomen and said “looks like you are bloated with gas”. He handed me two smaill pills called gas-ex and sent me on my way. The pills worked; I let my *ahem* gas out, and felt much better. To this day, the mere thought of that experience melts me into a pool of mortification. .
So that and the time that Dianne Cannon(no relation to the movie star) borrowed my gym shorts and proceeded to tell everyone that my shorts smelled like fish. Never mind that I had just had my first period ever. Bitch
Seriously, what a bitch.
This book sounds so great! I’m also one of those that gets embarrassed *for* people, making watching shows like the Office pure torture at times.
I think my best story (although it sounds pretty lame in retelling) comes from high school band. I was first chair, while my crush was second chair. For some reason the director had us sitting on risers that day, so I was right by the edge. Eventually, I toppled over the edge with my chair, landing with all legs and arms flailing. Oh, and of course, this was one of the very very few days in HS when I wore a skirt. I was mortified. Of course, I guess it all turned out okay in the end, since my then-crush is my now-husband. 🙂
I am not really sure I can pick one moment as the most awkward and embarrassing as there are so incredibly many. I will go with one from high school which to this day turns my stomach.
A little back story:
My brother was one grade above me in school and was beyond popular. I mean no one would ever have called him popular he was just cool. He was sort of a legend almost. I was mostly a nobody.
Needless to say my brother had an entire fleet of friends and minions who were constantly around him.
At the same time one of my cousins was living with us while he attended UT. He was four years older than me. He and his three best friends were always around.
Now I had a crush on several of my brothers friends, and one of my cousins friends. Older attractive and cool on all accounts. What wasn’t to like? Plus they were always in my house, so that was nice in some ways.
I was a junior, so I was 16, and for once it was a quiet Saturday afternoon. My brother was at his best friends house, and my cousin was at a friends for the weekend. I was free to do whatever I liked with no guys around. In typical girl fashion I decided to take advantage of the empty bathroom and take a long hot bath. I took in my discman put on my headphones and had a nice long soak (occasionally singing loudly and poorly to the music, because there was no one around to hear me.)
We had an upstairs living room area that was just for the kids. Our TV and computer were set up there so we wouldn’t annoy my parents. The bathroom was on one side of this room and our bedrooms were on the far side of the room.
Typically when I showered I would bring my bathrobe with me so I could move between the shower and my room without worrying about flashing anyone. Our towels had ceased to be big enough to completely cover me once I got boobs. They covered me on top, but only mostly covered my bottom half, and then only if I didn’t move.
So I got out of the tub, dried off, and with the knowledge that the only people in my house were my mom and little sister, I wrapped a towel around me and headed out the door. I should mention I never took my headphones off so the only thing I could hear were the show tunes blasting in my ears.
I opened the door, stepped out, and was horrified to discover that while I was in the bath my brother and my cousin had come home, with all of their friends in tow. In all there were four college guys and 11 high school guys (all of my crushes included in the bunch) crowded in the living area that was between me and the safety of my bedroom wearing nothing but a too small towel. I had very little self esteem and a terrible self body image and that was probably the worst situation I could have ever imagined.
Of course when the door opened they all turned to look, and of course when I saw them my immediate reaction was to scream. I dropped my discman and almost my towel while I stood positively mortified as they all just stared at me. My brother and cousin were the only two who had the decency to turn away.
I had to shuffle quickly along the back wall of the room so as to flash them as little as possible, because running (as I really wanted to) was just going to give them a full show. I was later informed (in a rather vulgar and less than flattering manner) that despite my best efforts, I didn’t manage to not flash them.
As a senior in highschool I was an exchange student to Denmark. Shortly after the school year had started, all of the exchange students at my school were going to get up in front of everyone at an assembly and tell a little bit about themselves…in Danish. Lets pause here to remind everyone that two weeks earlier I had arrived in this country not knowing a SINGLE WORD of Danish and now only knew a little at this point. I could introduce myself and say where I was from. Not much else.
We’d been prepped by the principal for this and had been encouraged to prepare something to read. Fine. No problem. And then I got the assembly and realized that I had forgotten the little bit that I had prepped. I stupidly decided that I didn’t need to stinkin’ cue cards. I could introduce myself…no problem.
I get up and tell a quick little bit about myself : “I’m Jen, I’m from Wisconsin, I’m going to be here for a year and before I came to Denmark I’d never ridden on a train.”
Not very exciting, but I was doing some fast translating…
So I start to sit down and the principle kind of stops me and says, why don’t you tell us a little about what you like to do.
Shit. Ok. “Well, I play the cello and I really like to play volleyball. “
At this point I looked questioningly at the principle – begging him to let me sit down. He just nodded quickly and moved on to the next person.
As I sat down, my friend Stine says to me….”do you know what you just said?”
“….ummm…? I think so….”
“No. You just told the whole school that you like to “fuck violently””
Ladies and gentleman: Apparently “play volleyball” and “play violent fucking” sound very, very similar in Danish.
And this, my friends, is how I suddenly became a very popular exchange student.
So this one’s kinda meta . . . I was in my 10th grade English class with my favorite English teacher of all time (possibly favorite teacher period, but let’s not push it). I remembered something embarrassing I’d done earlier (can’t remember what now) in the middle of class, during a lecture, and smacked myself in the head to punish myself. Loudly. And theatrically. And he stopped in the middle of the lecture with a really concerned look on his face and asked me if I was okay. I’m pretty sure I turned purple and said I was, but couldn’t explain myself otherwise.
So that’s a fun time that thinking about something embarrassing, which I have now long forgotten, led to a whole new embarrassment, which I now remember quite well.
Also one time in a cupcake shop I parrotted Liz Lemon’s Cathy impression (“Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Ack Ack Ack”) near a perfectly nice looking woman who had just ordered a chocolate cupcake. I swear it was instinct – Liz Lemon quotes just flow through me without my knowledge or consent – but MAN did I feel like a dick.
Okay, so I feel like I have lots to choose from, but this one always stands out in my mind…
When I was in my early twenties, my boyfriend took a job in another state. He took a weekend to go find an apt. there, and I decided to plan a “surprise” for when he got back.
He would be getting in late-ish, so I decided to drive over to his current apartment and greet him… wearing nothing but a long, wool coat and stockings. Yeahhhh.
Did I mention that this was in the middle of a midwestern winter? And the forecast predicted freezing rain and snow that night. I changed into my “outfit” at work, once everyone else left, and exited the building and got into my (well, my dad’s) pickup truck. So far, so good.
He lived about 20 min. away from where I was working, and I noticed the roads were getting a bit slick as the snow started to fall. Tried being extra careful… but when I was still about 10 min. away, my wheels hit an icy patch and I started to lose control of the truck. It did a 360 (thank GOD the roads were pretty quiet this time of night), and for several seconds, I was fairly certain I was going to slam into the sidewall and die. Naked. In black, thigh-high stockings. At 11pm at night. The thought flashed through my mind, “my mom will think I’m a prostitute!!!”
And then the truck slammed into the sidewall… but I was all right. rattled, But fine. And then I saw a police car on the other side of the road, helping someone else who’d spun out of control… and the cop was making his way towards me with a flashlight… I frantically started pulling on a pair of jeans, only getting them to my thighs before he reached me. I clutched my coat together tightly and rolled down the window, praying the truck wasn’t damaged, so I wouldn’t have to get out of the car and explain why my pants wear half-on and I was topless.
He inquired if I was all right, I started the truck up and was able to get it going, despite the fact that it did have some damage… I drove away as fast as I safely could!
And then when I got to my boyfriend’s house, I put on the rest of my clothes and scrapped my plans for a sexy surprise*.
*I DID actually surprise him another night, but this time I changed out of my clothes in my car, once I got to his parking lot. 😉
I am such an awkward person, there are too many to choose from! I’ve certainly done my share of super duper awkward things, but the best story comes from my (now) Mother-In-Law, and the first time I went to visit my (now) husband’s childhood home. I had met her once for an evening when she came to visit the then-boyfriend, and though she was very nice, but all I really knew about her was that she was very, very Catholic. My husband is not, to say the least. We had been dating for a year, and as adults, were having adult-style fun at that point. So when we showed up at her house, she gave the the tour, and said “J., if you’re going to be a gentleman, you’ll let your girlfriend sleep in this room and you can sleep in the other.” (me = mortified already) “Otherwise, just remember (points to a nun-themed wall calendar hanging at the foot of the bed) *the nuns are watching everything you do*.”
I found out later that she was joking, but that comment combined with the boy’s refusal to sleep in separate rooms made for the most awkward first 24 hours ever!!!
Oh, this awkward moment just happened recently: I had tried calling our neighbors on my cell phone to ask if they could pick up our mail while we were on a short vacation. They didn’t answer, so I hung up the cell phone, or so I thought… Apparently the wife had answered and, as she told me when she called my home phone later, listened to everything that my husband and I had been talking about. Among the items we talked about were about how crazy our neighbors (yes, the very ones I was calling) are in their extreme right-wingedness, and then we had talked about having some alone couple time…….
Awkward……
I am not smooth. Not by a long shot. Uni friends of mine love to regale people with the tale of how I inadvertently offended a friend’s ex by telling him his new hair looked like a french pastry. The sad thing was that I felt so awkward around his newly formed ex-status that my brain melted and I honestly thought it was a compliment.
This is not my best story.
In first year grammar school (we were aged 11) there was a Halloween costume competition. To this day, I have no idea why this occurred because our catholic convent school did not like competitions. Anyway, all 151 first years dressed up as THINGS and then walzed across the school to the gym where we would walk across the stage in front of the whole school (over a thousand girls) and be graded by three teachers (one of whom, I maintain to this day, was evil and should never have been allowed near children, but that is a different therapy session).
Imagine, if you will, the pressure that this even causes. This is the first year we’ve been together. There is immense pressure to be cool and be part of the cliques, yet it’s still early in the school year that the cliques are somewhat permeable. Your status has not yet been set in concrete. You need a GOOD costume.
So there are witches and boy bands and cats and nuns (oh, the irony!) and random other things. Three of my friends went as the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (and looked quite good until the Wardrobe sat on a desk to rest and got stuck nearly missing her entrance). One of the girls I knew went as a man in a suit carrying a briefcase with bras and pants (panties) sticking out- she was an “undie-taker”(undertaker). That needed explaining.
My parents both worked and weren’t especially creative and we didn’t DO shopbought costumes. Fine, no big deal. But I didn’t want to go as a witch. I *did* have a pajamacase that looked like a banana (I won it in a colouring competition) and I worked out that I could sort of turn it into a costume. I wore white tights and a white top and massive white sneakers with this banana on my head and coming down to nearly knee length (how big was this pajama case and how large were the pajamas supposed to be?). why the white? Because I had a plan. I made a fan like wafer out of cardboard and declared myself to be a banana split. The white was the icecream, the banana obvious and the wafer fan to underline the fancy icecream element.
I had it all worked out. I would walk across the stage, announce my name and then do the splits. I would astound and amaze and I would win.
Minor point: I was not, nor ever became, athletic. I could not do the splits. I did not practice. BUT I watched Grease 2 a lot and IN MY MIND I was michelle bendy Pfeiffer and when I was on the stage, like her, I would suddenly become an Olympic split-doer.
As you can tell, this is not what happened. My name was called, I went across the stage, I explained what I was. There was a pause. The evil teacher asked me to explain. Then I waited for the spirit of MP to descend upon me and I did the splits. Or rather, I did a lunge and fell over. And dropped my wafer fan. In front of the whole school. To bewildered silence. And that evil teacher who mortified me for years. And no one ever really understood the CONCEPT. And my lifelong awkward card was then awarded.
I think they’ve stopped that practice now. too many “sexy” costumes.
Also! Just last year my boyfriend and I had dinner with his uncle and asian wife, who I’d never met before. There weren’t any formal introductions, so I wasn’t entirely sure of her name. Throughout the dinner, he would refer to her as Sweetie and not having anything else to go on, I thought that was her name. I asked Sweetie to pass the sugar.
Her name was Marissa. It was all very awkward. That has never gone away.
this isn’t an entry, i just had to get that off my chest.