My most embarrassing moment

Despite my obvious coolness (top, right), I left sans record.

Despite my obvious coolness (top, right), I left sans record.

So a few weeks ago I had a painfully embarrassing moment, starring me and poor taste.

We were at the local synagogue, volunteering at a charitable event. A man started babbling on and on about this and that and that and this, and he mentioned how his mother had recently died, and that she lived in Florida. He proceeded to ask some questions about my folks, who also live in Florida. And, absentmindedly, I said, “You know, Florida—the land where Jews go to die.”

Awkward silence.

Anyhow, that was bad. But not the worst …

The year was 1989. Brian Cannamo was having a Christmas party at his house. I was invited, which sorta shocked me, because I wasn’t so in with Brian and his posse. Still, I was thrilled and happy to be included. It was a Secret Santa shindig, so everyone received a name, and you brought a wrapped, untraceable present for that person. I’m pretty sure I was given Melissa Kounine, and I bought a calendar or mug or something.

The party was a party. Everyone hung out, ate, talked, whatever. And, finally, Brian announced that it was time for the gift exchange. Names were called, people walked forward, and I was given a record. This record …

Screen Shot 2015-04-03 at 11.16.03 AM

I wasn’t much of a Skid Row fan, but I knew their music. I found out Brian, the host, had actually been the giver, too. So I approached him, thanked him warmly and made some really awkward Skid Row pun about being a down boy. Which didn’t even make sense, because “Down Boys” is a Warrant song. Anyhow, even with that hilarious joke, Brian looked at me with a pained expression and said, “Um, sorry Pearl, but I actually bought that as a gift for Jeff Cascone.” He took it from me, and I stood there, mortified.

I left a few moments later. Everyone had a gift.

Except for me.

1 thought on “My most embarrassing moment”

  1. I have a very similar story (but with better results) –
    For about 5-6 years after we graduated from high school, my group of friends got together and had a party at Christmas with the whole Secret Santa thing. I wasn’t around too much, but I was still invited, and it wound up being a lot of fun every year. Well, this year got strange, as I opened my gift, and it was a Harley-Davidson t-shirt. “Oh, that’s…cool…” I must have said. A little bit later, my buddy, who planned the party and divvied out the Secret Santa names, approaches me and asks what I got. I show him, and he looks at me baffled. Anyone that knows me knows that H-D is about the last thing I’d ever get into or appreciate. So he goes to his list and finds who my Secret Santa was. Turns out it was Dan. Dan was sweet and kind, but honestly one of the densest people I’ve ever met. He barely graduated, and not only wasn’t book smart, but he wasn’t street smart or had much common sense. He was often the butt of the joke. So we approach Dan, and he looks confused, and says, “That isn’t for you, that is for Kurt.” There was a Kurt from high school that only wore H-D shirts. I only saw him not wearing that when he was in his football uniform. So it was really for him. But the problem was- Kurt wasn’t invited. No one even had spoken to him since graduation. “Why the fu(k would he be here?” proclaimed the host, and Dan probably felt 2 foot tall until it was revealed that he didn’t remember my name, “Why do you have it, Lance?” “Who the f#@k is Lance???”
    I wore that t-shirt every year thereafter…

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