Friday Night Live

Before I get started? Mom... Please avert your eyes. Seriously. You won't approve.

So women and "adult" toy parties. Tonight my friend and neighbor hosted a party for 'the girls' and I went, in my smokin' new Isaac Mizrahi boots from Target (pronounced "tar-zhay" for the unenlightened) and had a blast. I ended up with some goodies for the hubs and me, which are none of your business, thankyouverymuch.

But it brought to mind a toy party of yore... right before we got married, I went to my very first bona-fide adult toy event. The hilights of the evening included a beautiful African-American woman with a day-glo white reproduction of a certain male body part attached to her head with a suction cup. The lowlight? Well... I didn't find out till weeks later that the low point of the evening was when I paid for my purchases with my credit card. You see, I had just quit my job as an assistant to a Senior Director at an ISP. I was engaged, just a month or so from my wedding, and I was starting a new semester in my Nursing program. (which I didn't finish, because T got laid off and I got pregnant, but that's a whole other post.)

SO... I made a few purchases and paid with my credit card. I wrote the number down from memory. The only problem? The number I wrote down from memory was, thanks to my faulty brain, not my own. It happened to be a credit card number I had used almost daily for the previous 2 years. It was the credit card number of my recently-ex-boss.

So when the representative from the party called me a few weeks later to tell me that, when she finally attempted to run my card, it came up as belonging to Mr. MyExBoss... I had a very small apoplectic fit. You can imagine the phone call that followed, wherein I had to explain to my boss that I had written his number down by mistake when I made a purchase and convince him that I was not attempting to rob him. Especially not to make purchases from a company selling Adult Novelties.

Lucky for me? He was quite understanding, and mostly relieved that the only purchases made on his card at such an event included foot massage cream and body lotion. Because anything else? Would have been.... akward to a degree usually reserved for Ben Stiller movies.

And there you have it. The official "most embarassing moment" of my lifetime to date. Accidentally using your EX-Boss's credit card number to make purchases at a sex toy party, and having to call and explain to him what happened once you find out what an idiot you actually are. What's your most humiliating experience? C'mon... go ahead and share. I dare you.