My top ten dumb-arse moments of all time

I am astoundingly stupid. No, hear me out. Oh, no-one was arguing? Oh. Right. Moving along then…

I’m a frog who manages her own successful lily pad business. I’ve managed to raise a tadpole who can just about dress himself (OK yes that’s where the analogy-or-metaphor-or-whatever falls down. Bear with me). In most areas I have boringness adult frogdom down pat*.

Nevertheless, I do some amazingly, stupendously dumb shit on an astonishingly regular basis.

Since I seem to be an expert at humiliating myself, I thought I should share some of my experiences. For the greater good. (The things I do for you, so that you don’t have to. I deserve some kind of public service medal. Someone needs to get onto that).

And so, here, in no particular order, are my top ten** dumb-arse moments of all time***:

One – the butterfly incident (or how not to admire nature)

Last weekend I was saying bye to my good friend Karen after waking her up at an ungodly hour to pick up her boot. (See here for the reason for the boot).

Picture the moment: A beautiful clear sunny winter morning, with a light breeze blowing. I’m enjoying this short peek into the gorgeousness that spring will soon bring, once winter throws off its icy mantle.

Movement beyond Karen’s shoulder catches my eye. Be still, my heart – is it? Could it be? Yes it is! Spring’s first butterfly is over there near her garden tap, fluttering in brilliant black and scarlet majesty. I excitedly grab Karen’s elbow.

“Oh my god!” I cry, “Look at that butterfly!” My heart fills with wonder that such a large butterfly has come out so early in the season. The excitement is tinged with worry that it’s come out too soon, that Melbourne’s wintery conditions will kill it. Poor butterfly!

This is not the butterfly in question.
It doesn't have a piece of wire sticking out its arse for a start.



Then it’s tinged with something else as it occurs to me that the butterfly has been hovering around that tap for an awfully long time. Then it’s tinged with “oh good grief what a fuckwit I am” as I look at Karen’s face and realise IT’S A FAKE SOLAR POWERED BUTTERFLY ON A WIRE.

I swear I don’t need glasses. I was just a dickhead caught up in the majesty of the coming spring.

Two - Don’t throw your GPS out the window (or how not to wave goodbye)

After the Butterfly Incident, I attempted to drive away. I pulled out, and saw Karen waving to me. “Quick, wind down the window a bit so you can wave!” I thought.

I hit the down button on the electric window. The window started to open, and I popped my hand out to wave. The window, knowing I’m an all-or-nothing-kind-of-gal, decided not to stop with a couple of inches; it was going all the way.

No problem.

Except that the GPS was suction-cupped to the inside of the window. The window that was now going down and pushing the GPS inch-by-inch towards its ever-widening gap.

I spotted that the GPS was mounting a slow-motion bid for freedom and panicked. I hit the up button.

Which was fine.

Except that the window was determined to keep the “this chick never does anything in half-measures” motif going, and tried to close completely.

With my hand still out the window.

So this up-down-ouch-shit-there-goes-the-GPS-don’t-forget-to-wave-and-steer-the-car dance went on for several more seconds, as I drove at 2 kilometres an hour with tears of hysterical laughter rolling down my face. Thankfully there were no witnesses other cars on the road.

Three – the ultimate mouthwash (or how not to eat fish and chips)

I was sitting there happily scoffing fish and chips, being a slob. Eating in the lounge room, on the couch. Happy as a… well, frog on a lily pad. Assuming it’s a large lily pad with access to fish and chips. And lemonade. I digress.

There was I was, eating fish and chips. I had a bottle of lemonade on the floor next to me, for the occasional swig.

I like a bit of vinegar on my fish and chips, so I had a bottle of vinegar on the floor too.

You can see where this is going, can’t you?

Yes, I did, while distracted by the television, take an almighty swig of white vinegar instead of lemonade.

Bet you didn’t know that it takes four days to get the taste of vinegar out of your mouth after you drink a mouthful of it. See? Now you do. I do these things for YOU, you know.

Four – the lost phone moment (or how not to make notes)

This has happened to me a number of times now, and just proves that old adage that you can’t teach an old frog new tricks.

I’m on a phone call. I have an iPhone. I love my iPhone. I’m very attached to it. If frogs and phones could mate I’d be tapping that phone EVERY NIGHT.

While on the phone, I realise I need to grab my phone and make some notes in the Notes app. I love that app. If frog and apps could mate… you get the picture.

Right. Find the app.

Oh my DOG! Where’s my phone? (Frantic searching through Tardis handbag). I’ve lost my PHONE!!! (Palpitations, gnashing of teeth, wailing…)

Oh.

It’s here. In my hand. Because I’m talking to someone and now I have to take notes and… where’s my phone… (RINSE AND REPEAT).

Yes I am.

I’ll build on this list of life’s potholes to avoid over the coming months.

You’re welcome.

* This is a lie. I APPEAR to have it down pat. Fake it till you make it, baby! (But that’s another blog post).

** Well-spotted. There aren’t ten dumb-arse moments. Yes. Hang in there; some more are no doubt lurking just around the corner… you know you can rely on me.

*** All time = so far. Let’s just call this a “living document”.

WHAT HAVE BEEN SOME OF YOUR MOST HUMILIATING MOMENTS?
OVERSHARERS PLEASE APPLY…