There are some things you never ever share with people

So The Collective is doing embarrassing moments this week. I have a few so I thought I’d share. Sharing embarrassing things makes them less embarrassing in a way. Right?

Scene 1: Calculus II unnamed university in Ohio.

Gorgeously attractive college student oversleeps during afternoon nap [college was so awesome!] Calculus II starts in 7 minutes and the policy is if you’re late for class, attendance doesn’t count, neither does your homework. Backpack is hanging on the back of a chair along with some odd and sundry clothing items. Girl grabs backpack and runs to class, breaking through large hordes of students on the way. She arrives at class with a minute to spare and shrugs off her back pack. Girl notices something in her peripheral vision, but is happy to be counted for attendance credit.

Boy three rows back: Um…hey! Hey! Is this yours?
[lots of giggling in the classroom]
Me: I wonder who that guy is yelling at, he better be quiet, class is starting.
Boy three rows back: Hey you, red haired girl, is this your BRA?
Me: What? Bra? Um..
[looking back to see MY 36C cup from Victoria Secret spinning from his index finger]
Me: [omg, omg, deny it, just deny it. No, that bra costs $40!]
Me: Yes, [outstretched hand] well, it’s my roommate’s.
[Good, throw her ass under the bus, she drank the last frappuccino.]
Boy three rows back: [flings it, slingshot style] Wow, its huge!
Me: I’ll tell her you think so.
Me: [Omg, how many people saw that bra flying from my backpack on the way here. I need to transfer.]

Moral of the story: Don’t hang your bras in the same place you hang your backpack.

Scene 2: Calculus II unnamed university in Ohio.

Gorgeously attractive student returns to school after gallbladder-ectomy with instructions from her doctor to eat normally but try to avoid fats. Girl arrives in the school cafeteria, wondering how to possibly avoid fats. Eats lunch, and realizes she is going to be late for Calculus II and the policy is if you’re late for class, attendance doesn’t count. While walking to class girl feels rumblings in the tummy. More walking, more rumblings. Walking faster, wow, rumbling mania.

Internal dialog:
Girl: I will just toot a little; let some of this painful gas out.
[toot, toot…toot]
Girl: Okay that was good, just keep walking
[toots, toot, ….squirt!]
Girl: Umm. That felt wet. I think pooed a little…
Girl: [running] just get to the bathroom, get to the bathroom
Girl: OMG, its everywhere! Okay, you can still make it to class. Just shove some toilet paper in there and pull your shirt down over it.

Arrives at class just in time:
Me: [okay safe, I can sit here for 50 minutes, then take care of this. No one even noticed.]
Boy three rows back: Ew. What’s that smell?
Me: [looking around to see if anyone is staring at me]
Boy three rows back: Ew. Does anyone smell that? It’s like shit or something?
Me: [points to the girl in front of me and whispers] Yeah, I think it’s her, be nice. She can’t help it.

Moral of the story: When your tummy hurts that bad, it's never JUST a fart.
Moral of the story: Sometimes, jeans just need to be thrown away.
Moral of the story: Actually, just don't take Calculus.

Why I am for sure going to hell:
The girl I blamed it on lived on my hall. I was actually friends with her, although she HATED bathing. She did love wolves though. Anyway, she died in a car wreck that year. I never told her I blamed my shit stink on her. She sees me from heaven now and wants to punch me in the face. True story.