On occasion we all have an experience in our lives that we debate whether or not to discuss with anyone.  You know...the kind of things that may be embarrassing or not well received.  For instance, your most embarrassing moment in life may have been shared with a stranger and no one else.  Perhaps a family member knows something goofy that you did, but has sworn a solemn oath not to tell.  Obviously, that wouldn’t be me.

    Once, my brother-in-law got up to go to work, looked all over the house for a clean pair of jeans and resorted to going all the way to the laundry room to find a pair.  He had to do this because my sister doesn’t, according to him, put them where they should be after doing the laundry.  Anyway, he put on his jeans and went to work.

    At noon, he came home tugging at his jeans, complaining that they didn’t fit right and my sister had surely done something wrong to cause this predicament.  It took my sister about two seconds to explain the problem.  He had on a pair of her Chic jeans.  So here’s mister he-man farmer going all over town, the co-op, the parts store and the John Deere place sporting a pair of women’s jeans.  Obviously there was no need for him to be embarrassed because this was, in fact, my sister’s fault.  She had not put his jeans where they should have been after laundering them.

    Now, I’ll tell one on me.  Years ago it was the first day of a new semester at college.  I had signed up for French class (once again) and I was surely not looking forward to it.  I was driving around looking for a parking spot when lo and behold I found one right smack in front of the building where the class was to be held.  I pulled just forward of the spot and put my car in reverse so that I could parallel park just like you’re trained to do in Driver’s Ed.  Before I could look over my shoulder a little red Fiat whipped into the empty spot.  I backed up until I was right beside the car so I could give the driver a mean look.  There sat this bald headed fat fart grinning at me.  I, of course, flipped him the bird and drove off to try and find another spot.  After finally parking across campus, I ran all the way to the classroom, went in and sat down.  I didn’t know a soul in the class.  As I sat there trying to catch my breath, the person next to me asked why I was breathing so hard.  I explained the situation and we had a good laugh.

    Not two minutes passed when, to my surprise, that same bald headed fat fart waltzed into the room...and put his books and jacket on the desk in the front of the room.  He looked around at all the students, stopped and stared at me for a second or two, then with a French accent said, “You!  Up front!” and motioned me to take a seat on the front row.  That’s pretty much how I flunked French.