When I was 16, I was invited over to dinner at my first (serious) boyfriend's Dad and Stepmom's house. I was, to say the least, a tad nervous, wanting to make a good impression.
Everything was going great until we sat down to eat. J- passed me the butter dish, and when I went to slice a pat to put on my plate, I, not realizing the butter was still hard as a rock, flipped the entire stick of butter onto my chest (while wearing a blue, shetland wool sweater, no less). I was at a complete loss, and J- was of no help whatsoever as he was convulsing with laughter in his chair.
I got through it, but learned to always test the softness of the butter before taking some. :rollin: