It's my birthday. Hooray! And I'm serving up some goodies, like last year. Care for a slice?
The price? Tell me your most embarrassing story. Moo-ha-ha (evil laugh, twiddling fingers). Of course, I can never think of one of my own. Never. Either my life's been dull, I'm not easily embarrassed, or I'm in complete denial. Isaac, on the other hand, just shouted from the other room that his whole life has been one embarrassing story.
After an hour of straining for an embarrassing memory, my best offering is a story Isaac insists I should find embarrassing:
My husband is a huge fan of The Lord of the Rings series. He claims to have read the series at least 20 times ("about once a year since I was twelve.") So, when one of the movies came out (not sure which), I rummaged through my fabrics and old costume bits, and ran out to various thrift stores to put together makeshift costumes for us to wear (an act of love & support -- complete, unabashed geekiness). I even got my sister & brother and their spouses on board. Isaac was a leather-clad man of Gondor and I was an elf, of course. My dress was some bulky, crazy dragonfly- inspired costume I designed in college. I needed equally awesome hair, so I hopped from beauty store to beauty store in search of long locks to add to my own. In one of those store, I discovered these things called "hair rats," which are like long logs of rolled-up hair. They're used for adding volume to buns and beehives, I guess. I'd never heard of such a thing. Hold that thought.
So, the movie geek fest was a complete disappointment on my end, I couldn't find a parking spot in time and ended up running to the theater, then hunting out my family in the dark as the opening credits rolled. No one ever saw my amazing braided elf hair, glued on ears, and repurposed-junk-jewelry headdress. Ah well. I do think Isaac, who arrived in a separate car, had plenty of fun scaring small children in his grungy leather garb and scraggily blond wig (with real yak hair glued to his chin -- now that's commitment!) And that was the point, after all, for Isaac to have a blast.
Ok, back to the story. So, some time later, in examining my hair brush and its need of a de-hairing, I had a thought, "Hmmm. How do those hair rat things work anyhow?" I pulled the hair from my brush, rolled it up, and started playing. Not that embarrassing really, but strange enough to keep it to myself, I guess. I never did find the perfect use for my homemade hair rat, I have a lot of hair already, but I did leave the thing in my bathroom drawer.
Weeks later, along came Isaac, minding his own business, looking for some sort of something, and discovered that abandoned hair wad for which he demanded (with a mighty smirk) an explanation. He has a major disgust for lost hair (which makes the yak-hair beard even more remarkable). I explained myself, the history, the fascination, the miraculous height of 60s hair and so on. Oh, he laughed. And. he. laughed. By the time he got a grip, I was feeling a bit embarrassed. Isaac still can't get over it and brings it up to embarrass me whenever possible.
Ya, I know, I haven't set the standard very high. I guess I
could make a birthday wish for something terribly embarrassing to
happen this year so I'll never have a blank look again when asked for
my most embarrassing story. Or maybe posting that atrociously posey
photo of us in costume can be my new story (I was trying to be all "my hero!" campy, but that doesn't really come across). And, yes, I'm feeling a slight tinge of embarrassment now.
So anyhow, in consideration of all poor, generally unembarrassed souls like myself, I'll give one stack of fat quarters at random, even if your story's not very good ;) But the other stack, the other stack goes to the most hysterically- horrible embarrassing story ever told.
So, bring it on! I'm ready for a good laugh... or cry.
Oh, and here's a token photo of Isaac & I as old folks (that's some sort of plate behind Isaac's head). I found this treasure while hunting for the elf photo. We were gussied up for a friend's 30th birthday party. Laura calls this proof that I don't embarrass easily.