Monday, March 2, 2009

Don't read this posting: it is too embarrassing


Every day after the siesta a one-hour walk is made on the beach along the Sea of Cortez.
In the company of the two faithful dogs Guante and Rocky.

But when the moment has come for the relaxing and beautiful walk, the doggies are not always there.
Sometimes they are napping elsewhere.
Or checking the area for lizards.

Yesterday they seemed to be gone.
Nowhere to be seen.
So, the whistle they know so well was performed.
Whistling hard and loud in all directions.
But funny enough they were not appearing at all.
More whistling because it is known how they love to come on the walk.
And how much the dog’s best friend loves them to come along.
However, eventually no dog was appearing and the decision had to be made to go this time on a walk without any company.
Turning around to go to the beach, suddenly it was noticed that actually the two dogs had been sitting behind the frantic whistler all that time.
Somehow they had quietly come and sat down behind the friend.
Probably wondering what all that whistling was about.


There are moments in life that one would like a trapdoor to open underneath to disappear forever for everybody.
That embarrassment is of such a magnitude that existence better implodes.
Leaving instantly a situation where one is the focus of attention as an idiot, hence drenched in shame and scandal, loss of credibility and respect.

Each of us has those moments that are housed in the part of the memory the most far away as possible and least visited.
Awful moments in life that one thinks: I wish I could die.
As they say: dying of shame.

Now, the dogs wondering about this idiot whistling for them when they were sitting right behind him, is an embarrassment still not too bad.
It is acting as an idiot but probably not enough to die for.

This was different with the friend in La Paz, Mexico.
An attractive European lady who is running one of the most beautiful bed and breakfasts in town.
But of course she misses certain aspects of life in the USA and Europe.
She had therefore asked the permanent pilgrim, when he went to the USA, to bring her all kinds of things from Trader Joe’s.
Gentleman as he is, he bought all the stuff she desired and this was put in two large Trader Joe’s paper bags stored in the Fuso Szulc.
Not paying any attention to the fact that this was close to the place where the dirty laundry was put.
Once in La Paz, the attractive European lady was visited bringing proudly the two Trader Joe’s paper bags full of goodies.
She was so happy.
Grabbed quickly into the first bag to hopefully find the chocolate she was so strongly longing for.
But instead of the chocolate she brought out a Speedo like piece of underwear that accidentally had ended not in the laundry bag, but in her collection of Trader Joe’s delicacies.

Now, this is a situation that a trapdoor is needed.
Because, how to explain this dirty underwear to a beautiful and distinguished European lady?
Who was made to believe that she would get what she desired only to find male underwear?
She may even have thought that it was a message of a sensual nature from the transporter.

Even still today, when the European lady is met, in the mind’s eye, this Speedo slip is pulled out of the bag again by her delicate hands.
And deep feelings of shame and embarrassment are felt.

However, now that we are at it, the worst ever in this field happened in Sweden.

Together with life long friend Bernard from Paris, a trip to Sweden was made.
Somehow, he had a blond sweetheart in Stockholm, so we drove from Paris to go and see her.
We were staying there for about a week and as Swedish politesse has it, Bernard’s lover arranged a girlfriend to make a solid quartet.

Obviously the two turtledoves drove the two others into romantic spaces as well.
This came to a climax when we all went to the holiday house of one of the girls.
Far outside of Stockholm in the mountains with lakes.
A beautiful place.
The girls had decided to prepare for the hungry boys a typical Swedish dish.
Out on the lawn, with a spectacular view, we had the pick nick.
The food consisted of unpeeled boiled potatoes and rotten herring.
Rotten herring?
Yes, fervent and loyal blog readers, in Sweden this is traditional food.
It comes in tins that look like small balloons because the fermentation inside creates pressure.
When the tin is opened therefore, a strong spray of liquid comes out and its awful stink knocks a healthy person out immediately.
Instantly hundreds of flies appear on the scene attracted by the rotting and decay.
But what can you do when two Swedish girls consider this a delicacy and a treat for their lover boys?
Is Casanova going to refuse to eat this garbage?
Insult them and lose important status?

It has been the worst food eaten anytime.
An exercise of ultimate discipline, world war two willpower, saintly sacrifice and space shuttle determination.

“Mmmmm, not bad, not bad” and the two visiting friends saw the total lying shining in each other eyes.

So far so good, right?
No trapdoors needed.

The night came and the campfire gave warmth and the darkness intimacy.
It all became very romantic bringing Swedish sensuality followed by European sexuality.
However, the rotten herring had also brought an almost immediate attack of diarrhea.
Montezuma’s Revenge in Sweden.
And it could be felt that the Quickstep had out sped a run to the privy.
On top of that, her hands were wishing to go all over the emptying body not knowing what a disastrous result this could give.

How to make her understand that desire on the opposite side was high too but options, unfortunately, due to circumstances, limited?

A most embarrassing moment as intimate activities had to be cancelled completely due to more double rotted herring floods coming and a rather penetrating smell starting to swivel around us.

It was better to die right there and then.
Because what to do?
To tell her:
“Look, honey, I love you very much too, but I am in the middle of a diarrhea attack” ?

A trapdoor to disappear forever.
That’s what we need sometimes.

Or, second option, to just be open and transparent about it.
To not have shame and scandal get the upper hand.
By publishing for the whole world to read some personal embarrassing moments.
To have the shame and scandal exit through the trapdoor instead.



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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

You are just too funny! And to think, if you had stopped writing your blog we would have never known about these embarrassments.

Anonymous said...

oh yes! life is filled with such crazily embarrassing moments. i am sure that every one of us has had them in plenty when we just wished thst some hole opened and we just disappeared somewhere!! i have had soooo many!!!

--raj