OK. I was thinking about this all night, so I must add it to my list of secrets: I am vulgar. Not even “vulgar for a girl”, just plain vulgar. I have a potty mouth, and that’s no big surprise to many, but most people don’t know the extent of my vulgarity, as I choose to protect them from the shock of, “OMG the ex-preacher’s wife says stuff like that!”
There are a select few who have had the pleasure of Lexi unrestrained, but I try to reel it in as much as possible in most cases. I am not always successful. I crack myself up constantly as I self-edit my thoughts for a better alternative that might be at least reasonably appropriate in a social setting. I try even harder when kids are around. In such settings, do NOT ask me what I’m laughing at. I guarantee you don’t want to know. It’s probably a bad sign that I find myself absolutely hilarious and am not looking to change this in the least.
Here’s an example. No explicit language. Fear not.
A couple of weeks ago my brakes started making a God-awful screeching sound, again. I called my mechanic hook-up (translation: mechanic who does work for me and gets paid in cash at a discounted price under his boss’s nose…or just does the work at his house) to find out what was wrong. I took the car to him. His reaction: Oh MAN! I really needed him not to be that appalled. He told me he couldn’t look at it at work that day, but to bring it to his house after work. I did.
My dad lives in the subdivision next to the mechanic, so I asked him to come bring me cash so that I could at least tip the guy. When dad got there, I leaned in his car window and said:
Yeah dad, I don’t think he’s going to charge me anything, but if he does, I’ll have to offer to blow him. That’s all I’ve got!!
My father closes his eyes, shakes his head (shocked, but not really) and says, “Well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that!”
It was sooo much fun saying “blow him” to Daddy!
So, you see what I mean?