Sidelong Glances
You are reading the blog of the Member of the Quarter!
I was surprised as you are when I found out.
I tried to think back to what I could have done to win this achievement and all I can think of are failures. And then, of course, I remembered my crowning failure. My moment of total mortification. The exact time I proved to everyone I wanted to impress that I was a complete loser.
You see, every Monday our chapter has a softball game with another local group in the league – usually a local bar or small business – and I come to cheer in the stands with everyone else who isn’t on the team.
Side note: I didn’t join the softball team, primarily because I’m afraid of The Ball. It doesn’t matter if it’s a baseball or a Ping-Pong ball – if it comes within a radius of three feet of my body I cover my head and cower.
Anyways – I walked from home to the diamond (three miles) and took a moment to go to the bathroom when I got there. Now – the facilities at the softball diamond are just as or slightly less disgusting as an outhouse. It’s one of the concrete and cinderblock buildings you find at parks and beaches. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and I went in. There was a questionable puddle of water on the floor so large that standing in it was inevitable. I ended up sort of launching myself from the stall door to get toward the sink (no mirror, of course) and I spent no extra time there because I was desperate to leave.
I went to the game, cheered and had a lovely time.
I went home and made my humiliating discovery. My zipper had been down the entire time. The entire time. So distracted with the puddle of water in the concrete restroom was I, that zipping up my pants completely left my mind.
Now it was clear why my friends and acquaintances were giving me those sidelong glances.
The programming brawler assured me that no one noticed. He insisted that my jacket covered my indecency (but I had the jacket open). He tried to say that with my arms at my sides you can’t even tell the zipper was undone. So I went to the full length mirror and struck a natural pose – fists in pockets. And yes, there it was, a Gaping Hole.
The only thing saving me from hanging myself from total humiliation was that, as some sort of miracle, I had opted to don undies that evening.
So there you are – Member of the Quarter.
I was surprised as you are when I found out.
I tried to think back to what I could have done to win this achievement and all I can think of are failures. And then, of course, I remembered my crowning failure. My moment of total mortification. The exact time I proved to everyone I wanted to impress that I was a complete loser.
You see, every Monday our chapter has a softball game with another local group in the league – usually a local bar or small business – and I come to cheer in the stands with everyone else who isn’t on the team.
Side note: I didn’t join the softball team, primarily because I’m afraid of The Ball. It doesn’t matter if it’s a baseball or a Ping-Pong ball – if it comes within a radius of three feet of my body I cover my head and cower.
Anyways – I walked from home to the diamond (three miles) and took a moment to go to the bathroom when I got there. Now – the facilities at the softball diamond are just as or slightly less disgusting as an outhouse. It’s one of the concrete and cinderblock buildings you find at parks and beaches. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and I went in. There was a questionable puddle of water on the floor so large that standing in it was inevitable. I ended up sort of launching myself from the stall door to get toward the sink (no mirror, of course) and I spent no extra time there because I was desperate to leave.
I went to the game, cheered and had a lovely time.
I went home and made my humiliating discovery. My zipper had been down the entire time. The entire time. So distracted with the puddle of water in the concrete restroom was I, that zipping up my pants completely left my mind.
Now it was clear why my friends and acquaintances were giving me those sidelong glances.
The programming brawler assured me that no one noticed. He insisted that my jacket covered my indecency (but I had the jacket open). He tried to say that with my arms at my sides you can’t even tell the zipper was undone. So I went to the full length mirror and struck a natural pose – fists in pockets. And yes, there it was, a Gaping Hole.
The only thing saving me from hanging myself from total humiliation was that, as some sort of miracle, I had opted to don undies that evening.
So there you are – Member of the Quarter.
posted by Noir Muse at 9:47 AM
2 Comments:
I feel for you.
Now why wasn't there anybody to nudge you back to the bathroom? You've always got to have a pal around like that.
The Ball isn't to be trusted Dear Muse, you are right to be wary.
(I was going to say something about a Member, some Balls and a Gaping Hole, but even a high-ranking official of the Obvious Joke Commission has his limits.)
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