Growing up is one embarrassing moment after another. Here’s a few moments that tend to stand out from the rest.


When you wake up from your first wet dream, you’re basically like one of those soldiers in the first twenty minutes of “Saving Private Ryan,” scared and confused and checking to see if the stuff you’re covered in is coming from your body. After realizing it’s not urine by rubbing it between your fingers and smelling it like a fur trader trying to make sure he’s not getting a fake pelt, it’s clean up time. I’m pretty convinced that if murderers took the time and paid the attention to detail that kids spend hiding the evidence of an unexpected splooge, death row would be empty.


Managing bathroom breaks is one of the trickier aspects of being a child. Which is why you see so many young boys running around and holding their penis like your dad holds the garden hose when he doesn’t want any water to come out of it. But there’s still nothing worse than realizing you just crapped yourself or unloaded a gallon of Kool Aid into your underwear. 

The problem is, what do you do after you’ve demolished your pants in a public setting? Most kids just freeze like a deer in the headlights and pretend nothing happened while their minds race over their options, which are: 1) sit there and pretend nothing happened. Then when someone asks about the smell, blame the retarded kid. Or 2) start crying. As with most childhood situations, options 1 and 2 usually end up occurring.


Somebody’s Wolverine binder got stepped on and suddenly a time and location are set and the entire school has found out. Your friends, who have never been in a fight, suddenly have a wealth of combat knowledge to share with you. When you arrive to the location after school, you partake in the ceremonial “calling your opponent a fag” portion of the event for several minutes as you both try and put off the actual fighting part of the fight. 

But the crowd becomes restless, and suddenly you clamp your fist and swing it towards your opponent like you’re throwing a grenade under water. It lands nowhere near his face like you had planned, and the fight devolves into both of you pulling each other’s shirts while on the ground, and getting super red faced, as if you’re attempting to shit out a bowling ball. After about twenty seconds of what looks like two kids dry humping, the crowd sees a random adult 200 yards away and scatters frantically.


The sheer, heart-stopping terror that shoots through your body when your mom walks in while you’re masturbating causes you to blurt out the only words you can think of as fast as you can. Unfortunately your nerves have only left you with a collection of ridiculous phrases that do nothing too help your cause. “Whoa, cleaning! Washing, hang on! No, I’m not! Just can’t get my pants on! Stuck! New underwear! I swear!” 

If you have a hippy mom, she’ll probably try and tell you that what you’re doing is a completely normal bodily function. If you have an uptight mom, she’ll walk out and pretend nothing ever happened. Pray for an uptight mom.


Few things in life are as scarring as going to ask your parents if you can open the new box of Cocoa Puffs, only to find your father putting his erect penis inside your mother. If the government could make the terrorists in Guantanamo Bay watch their parents boning in front of them, we could get rid of waterboarding. 

The worst part about it is when your parents see you, they frantically try to pull the covers over themselves, except they haven’t coordinated this, so they pull different things, resulting in them pulling covers off of another part of their body. This leaves you face to face with the back of your dad’s balls or your mom’s asshole.

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