F*ck That Sh*t! Update

A whole 5 hours and 21 minutes passed by without a single utterance of a dirty word.  Then I found myself in traffic at lunch time.  Disney and I were on our way to The Flying Avocado and a slow driver was in front of us.  There was rage.  Before I could stop myself, I dropped the f bomb.  Darn it!  This is going to be much harder than I thought.

On a side note, we did enjoy some inappropriate humor along the way:

• Me: Should we invite Foxy to lunch?
• Disney: She already went down and got something.
• Me: What did she get?  The clap? 

• Disney: It smells like cheese.
• Me: That’s what she said!

• Me: So then he told me to have a good day.
• Disney: That was really nice of him.
• Me: Yeah, he wants me.
• Disney: How could you tell?
• Me: It was the look in his eyes when he said it.  What he really meant by “a good day” was “my cock in your mouth.”

F bomb #2 just got dropped at 2:27.  Darn it!!

F*ck That Sh*t!

This is probably going to come as a total shock to some of you (and by “some” of you I mean the 2 new people that are reading this blog for the very first time).  Ready?  Wait for it.  Here it comes: yours truly has a foul mouth.  I know!  SHOCKER!!  I’ve been dropping the f bomb for over 25 years now.  My sister and I went to this awesome liberal school in California where we were allowed to swear (the thought being that it would dilute the bad words and teach us to express ourselves in other ways) and call our teachers by their first names.

Their theory worked: when I’m angry with someone, I tend to go off at them, but never ever call them a fucker or a shithead.  Mainly I use the words to spice up my dialogue.  It’s good times, until I’m comfronted with someone who is not as liberal with their cursing.  This always makes me feel a little awkward.  I kind of want to grab them by the shoulders, shake them a little and tell them to loosen the fuck up. 

Recently, another challenge has presented itself: Damien and Lucy(fer) are talking and are picking up the things that I say.  One festive day Damien and I were fooling around on the computer and a page didn’t load and I said “shit”.  And wasn’t it so funny when 2 seconds later he said it again. . .and then proceeded to say it for the rest of the day.  My sister was horrified, I couldn’t help but laugh.  I did, however, realize it was in my best interest to watch what I say-something that I have also taken into consideration during meetings at work.  How strange to see people gawk at you when you describe their plan as “shitty”. 

So, fine people, I have decided to challenge myself.  1 week (starting on Monday, March 31) without swearing.  Not one single word out loud, and nothing goes on the blog.  No dirty words.  Just so we’re clear, let me tell you the words that are off the list: asshole, shit, fuck (or any form of the word), and cunt. 

Goodbye sweet dirty words.  I’m going to miss you. . .I really am, but it’s only for a week and then we’re be reunited!

My New Pet

For the last week or so I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.  I’m not much of a cat fan, in fact I typically avoid them, but I kind of want one now.  My giant dog would most likely eat the cat the second he saw it, so it’s an exceptionally bad idea.  I kind of need one, though.  You see, I have the perfect name for a cat: Mr. Nipples.

Mr. Nipples is the best freaking name for a cat ever!  Imagine the conversations:

• You: You have any pets?
• Me: I do!  I have a dog and a cat.
• You: Oh, and what are your pets’ names?
• Me: My dog’s name is Cujo, and my cat’s name is Mr. Nipples.
• You: Mr. Nipples?
• Me: Yes, Mr. Nipples.  Mr. Nipples is quite a character.  He gets out of the house all the time so I have to go looking for him in the neighborhood.  I call to him, “MR. NIPPLES!  MR. NIPPLES!”

It’s perfect!! 

Even More Joys of Traveling

There truly were some wonderful sites at gate 34 of the Tampa International Airport.  Two hours of sitting and waiting around just so I coud sit on my duff for another three hours on route back to Baltimore.  Should have boozed it up to pass the time, but figured that I’d have a hard time expensing all the alcohol.  Let’s take this opportunity to thank the fine people who run the airport for maintaining the temperature at a balmy 10 degrees Farenheit and for playing awful country music the whole entire time.

At least there was a lot of stuff to see. . .

• There was a power walker in her kelly green too short pants who passed me 16 times.
• A 50-some-year-old woman who sat next to me and who was trying to talk to Marla on her red razr phone.  The call kept disconnecting and she’d yell, “Marla?! Marla??” into the phone, take it away from here ear and look at it with a very bewildered look on her face, then put it back up to her ear to yell “Marla!” all over again.  The phone started ringing and it was disturbing to hear that “Bodies” (by Drowning Pool) was her ringtone.  “Marla?  Is that you?  I lost you.”  Then the whole cycle would start all over again as the call was dropped once again.  This left me wondering who the hell names their kid Marla.
• A douchebag executive with his clip on suspenders yelling stupid stuff into his blue tooth.  It very much sounded like, “Look at me!  I’m so important!  I have clip on suspenders and a blue tooth!  Look at me!  My mother didn’t hold me enough when I was a baby!”
• Yay!  A man with a mullet, hammer pants and an “Ultimate Bucs Fan!” fanny pack.  And can it actually be?  Yes!  He had a wedding ring.  How’s that possible?  Wonder what Mrs. Ultimate Bucs Fan looks like.  Perhaps she was the one in the 2 sizes too small Nascar t-shirt that accentuated her muffin top.
• Hey!  Look there!  It’s short fat Vince Vaughn in a too snug suit.  Not a good fashion choice for him.
• Holy Mary Mother of hot!  Check out that fox in the perfectly fitted shirt.  Mama likey!
• By far the most disturbing nightmare inducing sight was a woman in a royal blue terry cloth sweat suit.  2 words to describe her: camel toe.

More Joys of Traveling

Just my freaking stupid luck.  Today I leave the warm sunny shores of Florida to fly home to crappy cold Baltimore.  This afternoon I realized I’m on a different flight from my coworker.  She has a non-stop flight leaving at 7:10 and arriving at 9:30.  I have a “direct” flight leaving at 7:20 and landing at 10 fucking 30.  Stupid Southwest!  The supremely shitty flight is that my coworker was my ride home.  Now I have to take a freaking cab to pick up my car at work and then drive home.  Boo!!

Is There Something I Should Know?

It’s more like is there something you should know.  Guess I’m going to have to break out my legwarmers, jelly shoes, and tease out my bangs.  Lola, Muffy and I are going to celebrate the good old days at the end of the May.  One of the raddest bands from the 80’s is going to be in our area and we just scored tickets!! 

It’s Time

You know it’s been too long since you got any when any of the following occur:

• You are attracted to someone that is selling beer and peanuts at a spring training baseball game.
• You are attracted to someone and think, “Hey, denim shorts on a man are bad, but he doesn’t look so bad.”
• You consider slipping your number to someone you meet in the hotel lobby of a Marriott Residence Inn.
• When your friend tries to set you up with someone and you ask him what he looks like, you think it’s okay when she/he says, “Well, I’d give him a 5 on a scale of 1 to 10, but he does own his own house and he loves animals.”
• You can’t remember where you put your razor because you stopped shaving your legs since no one ever sees them.
• The phrase “good time” makes you think of staying at home on a Friday night and eating a pint of ice cream in your bed while watching Dexter.
• The thought of doing the deed with someone that drives a yellow(ish) Mustang doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

It’s time, kids.  Mama’s got needs.