Showing posts with label Embarrasing Moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Embarrasing Moments. Show all posts

Friday 22 February 2013

Bogan Mrs Bean

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that I am a kind of bogan Mrs Bean. Hapless, awkward. Constantly doing bumbling, embarrassing things. Actually it’s been obvious for a long time. Recent events have just emphasised this.

For instance, there was the day when I had an  appointment to go to. As is my usual  tendency, I have no concept of  time or time management. I figured I could easily  manage to dye my hair, have a shower, put a bit of slap on, blow dry my hair and have ample time to drive the half hour it would take to get to my appointment. Wrong. 

I had planned what I was going to wear, but when I put the dress on, it made me look distinctly pregnant. With quads. So, I figured I should stick to the ‘pregnant with twins’ look I normally go for and decided on a different outfit.

My hair ended up a glorious hue of bright orangey red. Sort of Julia Gillard meets Pauline Hanson. Classy. Then, when I was rushing to get out the door, I couldn’t find my handbag, glasses, keys and had approximately 500 brain explosions. Finally, I made it into the car, already running late and realised, oh fuck, I need petrol, as the gage pointed ominously pointed towards empty.

 I stopped at the first petrol station. I can never remember which side the petrol thingy is on, so I became all bewildered and bamboozled. Conscious of being I late, I frantically leaped out of the car, slamming the door and ripping my skirt which was caught in it.

Meanwhile, my Julia Gillard hair, which I so lovingly blow dried has been well and truly blow dried in the sense of blown to smithereens by the wind. I am not happy.

A few rather charming words later, I retrieve my ripped skirt and flounce around to the petrol bowser. I’ve forgotten to open the door thingy to  the petrol cap. Swearing, I stomp around and flick it open. So I think. However,it soon becomes clear I’ve opened the boot instead. Fuck, fuckity fuck, I’m late! After several attempts to get the pump going I finally have petrol. We have lift off.

I reach my appointment, mercifully only ten minutes late. Okay, twenty. But at least I cut out the waiting room time. I spend the next 30 minutes allowing my shrink to convince me that I’m a great Mum just by being loving and demonstrative. So what if I regularly forget what day it is, to sign school notes and the boys are being brought up in a messy, dishevelled house? I’m distracted, wondering if I left the iron on, until I realise, there is certainly no chance of that happening. I never do ironing. I may have left my hair straightener plugged in. I mentally prepare myself for a stern lecture from Micky Blue Eyes on the perils of doing so.

Leaving the appointment, I remember I need to grab some groceries on the way home. Naturally, the list I wrote is sitting somewhere at home. I head to Aldi anyway. It’s cheap and I can possibly scrape up enough cash for a few essentials. I have no change for the trolley. Trudging back to the car, I grab the pram from the boot, I’ll use that instead. I wheel it in there, receiving odd looks from other shoppers at the sight of me with a stroller, sans toddler. Studiously ignoring them, I load a few essentials onto the pram. Finally I make it to the check out. At which point I become panicky as they check through the groceries at break neck speed, I frantically throw them onto the pram and fumble for the cash in my purse. I hand it over, smiling weakly and continue throwing the rest of my things haphazardly onto and under the pram.
“Have a nice day.”the cashier says in a monotone, thrusting my change at me. She continues to survey me with a sour expression as I simultaneously struggle to grab the last few items and stuff the coinage in my purse amid audible impatient sighs from customers lined up behind me. Finally shoving my purse away, I heave the heavy pram, laden with groceries away from the the check out. Items tumble off onto the floor. I scoop them up hurriedly, ignoring the pitying glances of other shoppers as they wheel their tidily packed  trolleys out the door looking smugly superior.
I hate queues..but I'll queue
up for plonk

On the way out I spot the new alcohol section, a recent addition at my local Aldi. Deciding a five dollar bottle of plonk will be just the thing to help soothe my shattered nerves, I dump the groceries in the boot and head back in. Clutching my plonk, I join a queue yet again. I feel like I deserve a medal for bravery just for doing this simple task. Waiting in queues makes me feel ridiculously anxious for no reason. Clearly I am a thoroughly logical person. The young woman in front of me is holding the same bottle of plonk,  The cashier asks for ID but doesn't ask me. I decide there are some distinct advantages to being an old bag as I leave with my plonk and the young woman leaves empty handed.

Arriving home I realise that I've forgotten approximately five things that were on the left-at-home list. I may have to face the joy of going back again. But why do today what you can put off for tomorrow?

Fast forward to this week and I have continued in my space cadet ways by finally remembering to take some gifts/items to post to online friends, which were promised months ago, and, in some cases, even, years ago. Then, en route to the post office I suddenly remembered I did not have the addresses to post them to with me. Additionally, I'd also forgotten my mobile, so I could not text them to ask their address. Sigh.

On the plus side, I managed to buy a lovely bogan outfit from Millers (tres classy) to wear to my sister in law's black and bling themed 40th birthday party, where, no doubt, I will sit quietly in the corner. But, at least I will be sitting quietly in the corner dressed appropriately.

There are so many more silly things I've done, but naturally, I've forgotten them. Or, I want to forget them. Now, I'm off to the shops again to attempt to post these thing once and for all. I'm walking there for exercise. I won't ruin my effort when I get there by having a coffee and a cakie. Nope. No way. I never do things like that.

PS. I was so disorganised and sucky with my time management, yet again, that I ended up driving to the shops. Without the parcels I had to post.  Enough said.

Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.



Do you forget things? Or frequently have embarrassing moments? Please tell me I'm not the only one...