Mortification Purge Party

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I say stupid things all the time. I do stupid things all the time. When I allow myself to remember all the stupid things I’ve said and done in my life, my whole body cringes.  I can only stand to remember these things for a few seconds, and then I have to shut my eyes, plug my ears, and start singing “Deck the Halls” at the top of my lungs to purge all the embarrassment from my body. Today I started thinking there have got to be better ways of dealing with all this shame I’m carrying around, so I decided to write this post. I’ve picked 3 of my most embarrassing moments from the last 15 years to talk about, and I beg you to tell me yours in the comment section. Maybe your mortifying moments can cancel out mine, and vice versa. Now let’s get this purge party started!

Mortifying Moment #3: The Chicken Cutlets

chicken cutletI am not now and never have been chesty, unless you count the time my knockers blew up to 38Ds while I was pregnant with twins. Way before I even got pregnant or married, though, when I was 27 years old and living the life of a newly single girl in the big city, I was surviving on a post-breakup diet of wine and Power Bars, and therefore skinny and flat as a flapjack. I had to boost my marketing appeal to all of the superficial, club-going dipshidiots I was trying to attract, so I called upon the help of “chicken cutlets.” No, I’m not talking about something sold at KFC – I’m talking about boob-shaped and textured inserts that you stuff into your bra so that you look like you have juggernauts.

One night, fully loaded on Red Bulls and vodka, and my bra fully loaded with cutlets, I ventured out to one of the cheesiest bars in the metropolitan area with two of my girlfriends. The night started off great. They were playing old-school hits like “Humpty Dance,” so I was busy doing my signature dance moves like the Card Dealer, the Dirt Digger, and the Sprinkler Head (to name a few).  When the DJ took a break, my friends and I headed to the bar to get a drink. Waiting for the bartender’s attention, I noticed a group of guys staring at me with their eyes popping out and mouths wide open. Damn, I thought. I am lookin’ HOT tonight. Feast your eyes, fellas! I pretended not to notice their adulation, but the staring was so blatant, it soon became impossible to resist glancing back over at them. Catching my eye, one of them gestured to his chest with cupped hands and starting mouthing something to me. Of all the dick-move-come-ons, I thought. This jerk is objectifying me for my ample bosom! Well I’ll show him! I looked him squarely in the eye, smiled, and lifted my middle finger. He just shook his head and went back to talking, and now laughing, with his friends.

I turned around to tell my girlfriends, who were waiting right beside me for their shot at the bartender, and one of them grabbed me, shrieking, “Oh my God, Ashley! Your cutlet popped out!”

And, sure enough, my cutlet was half out of my low-cut shirt, almost up to my clavicle. The guy I thought was being a jerk was actually trying to prevent me from making a complete ass out of myself, though I think it’s pretty clear no one can stop me from that free-fall when I’ve set my mind to it. I stuffed my cutlet back into my shirt, covered my face, and basically moonwalked myself out of there.

Mortifying Moment #2: The Toilet Paper Tail

Courtesy DJGames Comics

Courtesy DJGames Comics

 Now, I know everyone at some time or another has gotten some toilet paper on their shoe and trailed it out of the bathroom in a public place. If that has ever happened to you, yeah I get it, it’s kind of embarrassing and more than a little gross. My story can go you one better. Three years ago, I was on a weekend girls’ getaway to a local beach. This is after two pregnancies, one being a twin pregnancy, so needless to say, I do NOT wear bikinis anymore. I wear board shorts or Mom Swim Skirts, and that’s non-negotiable. So, the girls were all relaxing on the beach, and I needed to use the public beach restroom, which was two blocks away. No one else had to go, so I made the trek solo.

When I was a little kid, I’d go on road trips with my dad, and we had to hit a lot of public restrooms. I couldn’t squat over the potty, so my dad made sure I always coated the seat with toilet paper before resting my little tushy. Today, I am much more capable of squatting but I am far too lazy, so I do the TP coat before resting my BIG tushy. The process in the public beach restroom was no different than any other, so I did my business, walked out of the restroom, down the two blocks, down the boardwalk, and across the beach to where my friends were lying on their beach towels. Did I mention the beach was crowded? No? Well it was. Crowded. As. Fuck.

Anywho. I returned to my beach towel, and after a few minutes, started telling one of my long-winded stories (sort of like this one), and in the throes of the story’s dramatic climax, I stood up like I was starring in a one-man performance of MacBeth.

“Oh my God,” gasped one of my friends, laughing hysterically.

“No wait, I’m not done yet,” I snapped. How dare she interrupt my soliloquy?

“Oh yes, you are,” she sputtered, still choking on her laughter. “Sit down, dumbass, you have a toilet paper tail!”

I looked behind me, and sticking out of my Mom Swim Skirt, fluttering in the beachy breezes like a long, white kite, was indeed a TP tail that I’d displayed for two street blocks, one boardwalk, and one over-populated beach. I looked around and saw many, many people other than my friends staring and laughing at me, including all the little hot teenage girls that don’t have to wear Mom Swim Skirts! I dove back to my towel, removed the TP tail, shoved it under my beach bag, threw another towel over my head, and begged my friends to dig a hole deep enough to bury me AND my shame. (Instead, all those bitches did was laugh and laugh).

Mortifying Moment #1: The Donkey Punch

donkey punch

Ohhh, the Donkey Punch story. This is going to be painful because my cheeks are on fire right now, and I’m only two sentences in. Let me start with ABC’s “Bachelor Pad,” because that show is responsible for this mess. A few years ago, there was a contestant named “Blakely,” who had competed and lost on Ben Flajnik’s Bachelor season. She was a “hostess,” which probably just meant she was a stripper, and that should’ve been my red flag to never, ever quote her. In her solo interviews, when she’d get mad at a random guy contestant on “Bachelor Pad,” she would say she was going to “donkey punch him in the throat.”

Now, it’s known that I’m not a shrinking violet, and I’m not afraid of a juicy swear word, but I really am not familiar with weird colloquialisms regarding sexual depravity, so I had NO IDEA what a Donkey Punch was. (If you now have to Google it, go right ahead, but do so at the risk of the last meal you ate. It’s dumbfoundingly vile). When I heard the term on “Bachelor Pad,” I just thought it was a really funny way of describing how you were going to hurt someone, meanwhile envisioning donkeys doing back-kicks to people’s throats. I couldn’t wait to use this as a witty comeback, and tucked it away in my little arsenal of cool-sounding things to say.

Flash-forward to Halloween, a few months after I learned this term, and my husband, kids, and I are at our neighbor’s annual driveway party, where all the parents mill around drinking adult beverages while our costumed kids go nuts in the street. Some of the neighbors at this party we were very close to, some were just the neighbors we smiled, waved, and politely chit-chatted with in passing, and some were brand new to the neighborhood. After a couple of drinks, I found myself drawn into a conversation that my husband was having with some of the neighbor guys. He was telling them about my recent interest in taking boxing classes to work out some of my innate hostility. They all laughed.

“They used to call her Balboa in elementary school,” my husband adds. More laughter.

“She doesn’t look like she could do much damage, though, not even to a punching bag,” comments one of my husband’s close friends, pretending to size me up.

“You won’t be saying that after I DONKEY PUNCH you in the throat,” I announce triumphantly, all prepared to collect my Cool Points. My husband’s friend (let’s just call him Joe) spits out his last swig of beer, and a look of wide-eyed shock and confusion passes over his face. The other guys stop laughing and just stare at me. Nothing could be heard but the innocent children frolicking and cavorting all around us.

“I don’t think you even know what that means,” Joe finally answers quietly.

“Oh, really?” I challenge, not picking up the social cues and not ready to drop my bad-ass act. “Want me to SHOW you?”

squeeze toyJoe’s mouth drops wide open, and he looks like one of those weird alien toys that, when squeezed, pops its eyeballs way out. The guys are all clearing their throats, guzzling their beers, or wiping their brows. My husband grabs my arm before I can solidify my image in the neighborhood as a sexually deviant swinger and whispers in my ear the true meaning of the term “Donkey Punch.” I LITERALLY ran all the way home with my hands over my ears, screaming like a little girl, leaving my husband to collect our kids and the broken fragments of my ruined reputation.

 

So those are my Top 3 Mortifying Moments (only in the last 15 years, mind you), and now you know, I’m a colossal idiot. Please tell me you are too.

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Mortification Purge Party

38 Comments on “Mortification Purge Party”

  1. Pattie

    Oh My god I am just dying with laughter and burning up with shame at the same time. For you. For me. For both of us. Ashley, I swear I cannot wait to meet you at BlogU.

    I do know what Donkey Punch is. I am ashamed that I know but can honestly say it is NOT from personal experience. There is a blog post in here for sure.

    Chicken cutlets! I will gladly give over as much of my real juggernauts as you would ever want. I don’t need or want them.

    Since you asked that we share and purge our shame…just remember that you asked.

    We have friends that are so much fun to be around that they have to live almost an hour from us so we don’t enjoy our lives too much. Every June we have a ‘Gathering’ that includes four couples and their respective kids. It is always a great time with food, birthday cake for all the June birthdays, which is why we have the party in the first place, lots and lots of booze; So much booze that we always spend the night rather than try to drive home. The theme is always Pirate’s Treasure for the kids and Dirty Pirate Hookers for the adults.

    This is the quick story of how I flashed all the husbands in attendance because at the last second the wives all turned to see what the kids were hollering about in the tree house and the husbands all turned to see why I was tapping on the window that was in the bathroom that overlooked the deck. The same gathering where all the wives / moms had been inside for hours drinking awesome mugs of rum punch and googling terms that one of the wives had her 23 year old niece texting her.

    We were dying laughing after googling ‘Donkey Punch’ when said niece sent a text about a ‘new’ spa process that included bung hole bleaching. I know. Who the fuck would do THAT? Probably the same kind of person who would allow themselves to be Donkey Punched. Or who would flash her 50+ year old juggernauts before verifying her audience. I blame the rum punch. Which could be kin to Donkey Punch. :::shrug:::

  2. Samantha

    I’m dying! I had to look up “donkey punch” and I almost peed myself laughing. I’m sitting at work cackling like a loon. I am the epitome of social awkwardness. I remember being 8 or 9 and I didn’t have any clean undies, so I went commando. In shorts. Very billowy shorts. All of the neighborhood boys howled in hysterics as my Aunt gently explained to me what the problem was. So embarrassing. I have tons, and tons more where that came from.

    1. Ashley

      Oh, Samantha, I’m sorry! We all have tons of embarrassing moments – part of life, I guess. It’s just that in these, I was also being really ridiculously idiotic on top of the embarrassment! Argghhhh! Thanks so much for reading, friend.

  3. Foxy Wine Pocket

    I can’t stop laughing at this. Priceless stuff right here. I’m a colossal idiot too. I’ve got too many personal stories to type out here, but I promise we’ll exchange some good ones over a few (many) drinks at BlogU.

    (I had to google donkey punch.)

    1. Ashley

      Thank you for laughing with me, Foxy! I was actually really worried this one was taking a step too far. Glad I’m in the type of company that thinks this stuff is funny too. We have to laugh so we don’t cry!

  4. Beth Teliho

    LMAO. Okay, I’m 43yo and just now had to Google donkey punch…..NASTY!!!! Your story is hilarious! I love that others do embarrassing things, too. 🙂

    1. Ashley

      Beth, thank you for reading! This one was really hard to write, actually! I’m sorry you had to learn what a donkey punch is…a loss of innocence. Grossss!

    1. Ashley

      Lmao at all the googlers. I’m glad I’m not the only one who didn’t know what that was! Thanks so much for reading and commenting and sharing my shame, Cindy!

    1. Ashley

      Thank you, Laura Jo, for reading and for your comments! The guys always seem to know these things…gross! We are naive, but I for one would like to keep it that way, where the donkey punchesque things are concerned!

  5. Stacey

    Oh, Ashley that is one of the craziest things I’ve visualized in days!! lol! I, too, had Google the donkey punch and never in my wildest dreams would have guessed that one. Zoiks!! The best part is that you threw the phrase out there like it was nothing and like you hear it every day! NICE!

    1. Ashley

      Sorry for the bad visual, Stacey! I really wish I didn’t know this, but sadly now you have to share my pain. Thanks so much for reading this trash! 😉

  6. Uncle Dubs

    Riotously Ashley, all the wayyyy! A guffawfest of perplexing dimensions. Superbly shared, as always.

    After a particularly bibulous night, I crapped my pants at the office. I was able to rise and make it to the bathroom without a drop wasted, rinsed the horrid bikini briefs and rolled them in a paper towel. Thank GAWD for the paper towel roll. Removed pants and ran cold water over the seat, washing away most of the crap. Wrung ’em out. Put back on. Created a foot-thick pile of towels and stuck in ass of pants. Looked both ways, waddled out and tossed shatted briefs in wastebasket of nearby temp. Returned to desk and sat for the next 3 hours on the somewhat pleasing mountain of soggy towels, deflecting all comers, phone at ear, faking elaborate, animated conversations, great aunts dying, all of it. Was never busted but the next day my cubicle smelled like a just-opened shipping container of leprotic camels.

    1. Ashley

      Omg, U Dubs, you steal the show! My husband and I were literally doubled over (excuse the poop cramp pun) while reading your post. You are hands down my favorite uncle that I’ve never met before. You’re a joy! Thank you for sharing your hilarious “shart story.” I’m assuming it was a shart because you didn’t really fill us in on how this came about. 🙂 Thanks for your ever-entertaining comments, UW. 🙂

    1. Ashley

      I hope you do write a book about your cringe-worthy moments, Kristen! I am a HUGE FAN of Abandoning Pretense! Thank you SO much for reading and commenting. Honored! 😀

  7. Drew Clarke

    When I was an alcoholic, I acted like a fatuous ass more times than I can count but the next morning I didn’t feel embarrassed, I felt contrite and remorseful. Through middle and high school, I earned the Presidential Fitness Award every year. My sophomore year, doing 15 pull-ups was one of the presidential award requirements. My muscles started to burn at #12 but I refused to capitulate. I completed #14 and then hung there for a second but the coach said I had to keep going or drop down and call it quits. I wasn’t going to blemish my record so I mustered all the energy and strength I could and began pulling my chin closer and closer to the bar. My arms were shaking. I almost had my chin over the bar so I gathered all the energy I had in my body and strained every muscle. My chin cleared the bar and then, without warning, my body let out this thunderous fart that echoed through the gym. Mortification set in immediately but I earned my Presidential Fitness Award and maintained my perfect record even if it was at the expense of my dignity.

    1. Ashley

      Oh, my lord, Drew. That was hilarious! So embarrassing but hilarious. 🙂 Thanks for sharing that and congratulations on the awards – pretty prestigious!

  8. Drew Clarke

    You using the phrase Donkey Punch is bad enough but saying that you were going to donkey punch him makes it even more disturbing.

  9. Jamie Renee

    I haven’t finished reading yet, that might have to wait until later. You see, I am delirious after a mere couple hours sleep, eighteen cups of coffee, two Benadryl and a lot of Brie and crackers.
    Truthfully though, those aren’t the reasons I can’t finish reading right now. It’s 9:10 a.m. and my sleepy eyed husband just walked in the living room to find me laughing hysterically and looking up Donkey Punching on Wikipedia. I now have some serious explaining to do when he gets back in here with his coffee.
    He knows me too well. Meaning no radically goofy thing I do surprises him any more. Like when I educated him on what jenkum is and placenta soup.

    1. Ashley

      Ha! I’m so sorry I’m so late to respond, Jamie! I love that you were eating brie and crackers in the morning – atta girl! I’m sorry you had to learn about the Donkey Punch – ugggggh! You have to tell me if your husband already knew what it was – most guys do! (What’s wrong with them, anyway? Pervs)! Thanks so much for reading, sweetie! I hope you are all caught up on sleep now!

  10. Drama Queen's Momma

    I am afraid to Google that…..maybe you could just whisper it in my ear! I have sooo many embarrassing moments that I could write a book instead of a blog post! I suffer from a stiff case of “foot in mouth disease” and I often think I am funny when I am not. So I bet you get where this is going….

    1. Ashley

      Hey Drama Queen’s Mama! Thanks so much for reading and no, I don’t think I’m gonna tell you about the donkey punch. I can’t stomach it! I’m glad you were able to commiserate with me though. Thanks so much for being so good to me!

  11. Mackenzie

    LOVE IT!!! The “Donkey Punch” bit was money, girl. And I’m a flat-chested sister with a pair of chicken cutlets myself. I only wear them on special occasions and I’m always terrified that I’m going to get trashed and they’re going to be revealed along with my full-body spanx in front of my husband’s co-workers and their wives. Great post! I’ll be back.

    1. Ashley

      Thanks so much for visiting my shame, Mackenzie! I love that you wear the cutlets! I wore a heavily padded bra yesterday because I was out of clean bras and I felt like a had a back ache from carting those overblown suckers around all day. Definitely should be confined only to special occasions! I’ll be visiting your blog today! Thanks again!

  12. Thriller Mom

    First let me give you a tight, TIGHT, squeeze of a hug! There, there now. Let’s not EVER open that mouth again! Lmao! Your embarrassing moments had me cringing from embarrassment.
    But I honestly don’t know if the Donkey Punch (which I Googled) would be the worst for me. Probably the tissue fanning…yeah. Definitely that. But I must tell you that I LOVE the word “dipshidiots.” I laughed so hard! Gotta use that! It may be well known but I don’t get out much so things like this are new to me. =)

    1. Ashley

      Thanks so much for reading and commenting and commiserating, Thriller Mom! Dipshidiots was new to me until a friend sent me a funny ecard last Spring. I have been owning that word ever since! I am going to get busy reading your blog now – I feel so far behind since I just got back from vacay.

  13. Sarah.livelaughlearn

    I’m dying. (And too afraid to google.)

    When I was 15, I was with my family at the local ice cream shop, which was embarrassing enough. Hot waiter came over to take our order and I asked for the Reece’s Penis sundae. Silence, but for the sound of my gurgling incoherently in mortification. I tried again to pronounce “pieces,” and again, Reece’s Penis was all I could muster. Hot waiter raised his eyebrows, said, “Uhhhh, okay….” and walked away. My family, on the other hand, was not so kind.

    1. Ashley

      Bwahahahahaha! Omg,THAT is an embarrassing moment you NEVER forget! You know I feel your pain. Thanks so much for reading, Sarah!

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