My Memory Has Just Been Sold

There have been many times where I have been embarrassed. I’m sure there are many that I cannot remember or have suppressed. However, there are a few times you have that total brick in the pants experience that you will never, NEVER, forget no matter how many drugs or MIB memory wipe thingees you experience.

Entry number 413 in the “I’ve been embarrassed by…” logs show a quite memorable moment from my first freshman year of college. It was… yes I had two freshman years. Apparently, in 1994, unless you actually took the exact same classes that Pitt offered you could not transfer credits. I was reduced from 15 to seven and then let culture shock take care of the rest, dragging me into academic probation by the end of my first year.  Where was I? Oh, yes. It was the fall of 1993 and I had started attending Coastal Carolina University.  My one and only semester there led to the biggest embarrassment of my then 18 years.

Now, I apologize for rehashing this but the layout of the dorms went as this.   Four people lived in a dorm / apartment with a common area / kitchen.   A hallway led to the back where four bedrooms were located, a double vanity and then three additional doors contained a toilet, shower, and closet.    This meant that all four residents could be getting ready at the same time.  One could take a shower, one could shit, and two could shave.  The dorm / apartment units exited outside onto the floor and you could have neighbors of the opposite sex.  The apartment directly across from us held four girls.  It was our own version of friends.  We came and went into each other’s apartment, usually at will, usually with nefarious intentions.

One of those intentions was to recover an item of mail that we had deliberately delivered to them.   Since one of the girls had a first name that could be considered unisex, it was easy for my roommates to sign her up for a subscription to Playboy, asking to be billed later.  We simply went over to the apartment, stealthily grabbed the latest issue from their pile of mail and returned to our place.  To give you a frame of reference, one of the three issues we were able to get, before Playboy caught on to our ruse and canceled our subscription, contained a pre-implant version of Jenny McCarthy.   Personally, I think she looked better then.   This was before the Singled Out, belching, farting, and Jim Carrey days.

Anyway, eventually, one of my roommates would go through the magazine and pick out the better pictures to tack up to the inside of the bathroom door. Soon, the interior side of the bathroom door became a bulletin board of naked women. The regular light bulb was even replaced with a red one for added effect. My one roommate made mention that the next time he went home, he was going to get some more pictures from his personal collection and add them to the door.

Fast forward to Fall Break and I am spending some much needed time back home with my family. After wards, my parents drove me back 12 hours to my dorm.

I would just like to break up this statement by saying my parents are nuts and I love them. They drove nearly 24 hours straight, three separate times, to and from South Carolina; my first day, after Fall Break, and Christmas Break.  They were truly notappreciated by the asshole that was my 18 year old self.

Now, after driving 12 hours, the normal thing is to have to go to the bathroom. Once we arrived, I took a load of items up to my room along with my mother. She stayed behind while I went back to the car to retrieve more stuff. Upon returning to the apartment, I could not find her.  It’s not like the apartment was that big, so she couldn’t have gotten far.  I asked one of my roommates where she was and they said she needed to go to the bathroom.

My jaw immediately dropped to the floor.  ‘THE BATHROOM!’ The door, the red light, Oh My God, my Mother!?!?!

I raced into the back of the apartment where my mother was coming out of the bathroom. She had a look on her face that spoke volumes. Had I the opportunity to find out I would have removed the four pictures posted up inside the door or better yet, asked our female neighbors if she could use their bathroom, instead.

I felt that the damage was minimal, even though she had that look. As she got ready to leave for their 12 hour return trip, I made my own stop into the bathroom.  Apparently, my roommate was true to his word and had ‘added’ his own personal collection of magazine centerfolds.  The entire door was a lesson in female anatomy.

Now, Playboy pictures are somewhat demure when it comes to the portrayal of the human body. Those original four pictures were juxtaposed alongside the more graphic and shall we say, revealing pictures that were added. Whatever these girls had underneath their skirt was just too good to share with just their physician.

I, now, knew the extent of the damage that was dealt at the hands of my roommates. That look my mother had now spoke tomes. As I walked her back down to the car I apologized immensely, again and again, for what had happened. I can only imagine how the ride home was. Seeing as how my dad had a bladder of steel, he never got to see what she did. Oh, to be a fly on the windshield.