Hey, remember when I used to embarrass myself all the time? And then blog about it? Like, there was the time I ended up naked in a swimming pool in front of my whole class. And the home-made g-string incident. Or how about all those awkward phone calls?
Anyway, I haven't written any blogs like that lately, so it probably seems like I haven't had an embarrassing moment for a while.
But don't be fooled.
I've still got it.
I still humiliate myself on a daily basis.
When it comes to embarrassing moments, I'm still The King.
Yeah, I said it - The King. Not The Queen. The King. I think technically you have to be a dude in order to be King of something, but I don't care. Try to find a guy on this planet who has had more embarrassing moments than me - I dare you. I dare you. And until you do, I am The King.
Here's some proof:
So today, as I said in the post below, I was home by myself and decided to do a little baking. Because, you know, who doesn't love anything baked? Hello, why do you think they're called baked goods? It's because they're so freaking good! Although if you ask me, they should be called baked greats.
Ok that was terrible. I apologise.
Anyway, so I was home, by myself, baking, in my pajamas (more about those later), with my iPod connected to some speakers and the volume turned up way too loud. I have this playlist on my iPod, and I don't wanna brag or anything, but it's pretty much the most incredible playlist ever. It's called The Get Psyched Mix.
Oh man, it's good. It's great. It ups my levels of psychitude more than almost anything else. Pretty much the only thing that gets me more excited than this playlist is, well, Wentworth.
Ha - you thought we were going to get through one post without me mentioning Wentworth, didn't you? Guess again, my friends, guess again.
Anyway, so yeah, I'm listening to The Get Psyched Mix. And yeah, I'm getting psyched. And I was just beating some egg whites when Thriller came on.
Oh, my gosh, Thriller. Which everyone who knows me knows is my second favourite song of all time, right after Midnight Train by Journey. Anyway, not important.
The point is, I love Thriller. And listening to Thriller. And most of all, doing the Thriller dance. So yeah, of course I put down the egg whites, and started dancing around the kitchen.
Oh yeah, I danced. I busted a move, yo. I shook my groove thang. And I kept shaking it, right up until the point where I looked up and saw a random guy standing in my backyard, staring at me through the living room bay windows. That's when I remembered this:
On the phone, earlier that morning:
Mum: Baisy, I'm just calling to remind you that a man from the garbage disposal place is coming over today to pick up some dead trees and stuff.
Ok, so as if it isn't bad enough that this guy has caught me Thriller-ing around the kitchen...remember how I said I was wearing my pajamas? Here's the thing about my pajamas - they're kind of ridiculous. I have these thermal pants that I bought from an Anaconda outlet store for five bucks and I love them, but they make me look nuts. I mean first of all, they're thermals. And they're stripey - and bright green and white. Also it probably doesn't help that they're mens, so they sit kind of low in the crotch area. Kind of really low in the crotch area.
Sigh. I'm betting this garbage guy was pretty entertained by the sight of me in these crazy pants, a 100% Ladies Night Pub Crawl tshirt, knitted armwarmers and Catherine's Peter Alexander ugg boots which are about 7 sizes too big for me, singing, laughing and doing the Thriller dance while simultaneously trying not to trip over my own crotch.
Not to mention the fact that I am kind of totally uncoordinated and awkward, so when I do the Thriller dance, even though I know all the moves, it just ends up looking jerky and weird and well, completely retarded.
So yeah, that's what happened to me today. I feel like I should point out though, that as far as my embarrassing moments go, this one was kind of tame.
And that's why I'm The King.