7:18 p.m. | 2002-09-26 True Confessions. I have a confession to make. Okay I have about 64 million confessions to make, but I�ll just make this one. Here it is: I swear more than a boatload of sailors. There, my secret�s out. Last night, I realized that I�ve been censoring myself in this here diary. Why? Because when I actually write out curse words, I realize how much I swear and I don�t want to offend anyone with my profanity. However, when I talk, I swear all the time. Bad words are like adjectives to me. Or complete sentences. (e.g., Holy fucking shit.) One of my favorites is godfuckindamnit. If I actually heard a tape of myself speaking, I would probably faint while blushing. Curse words just roll off my tongue. Now, I do verbally censor myself when appropriate, but in my everyday conversations with people I hang with, there�s no censoring at all. So, I decided maybe I should stop censoring myself in my diary. Or at least give it a trial run and see how it goes. I apologize if it offends anyone, but you�re free to go anytime you�d like. You�re not under arrest here folks. I�ll pause for a moment for anyone who wants to leave now. That said, I am currently having a love affair with the word �bastard�. For some reason, it just feels good to call someone a bastard. But, I�m only calling really nice, undeserving people bastards because if you call a true bastard a bastard they take it as a compliment. Are you following me? That dilutes the overall effect of saying it. Therefore, the recipients are usually somewhat surprised as they�ve never been called a bastard before. It�s generally aimed at men, but women aren�t spared. In fact, I even called my Boss a bastard the other day. She raised an eyebrow but didn�t miss a beat. So, if I call you a bastard, don�t be alarmed. It�s actually like an affectionate little nickname. *** On an unrelated note, I went trinket shopping for Tuff today. My Colleague and I both had some shopping to do so that�s what we did at lunchtime. Neither one of us are shoppers, so it�s more like a chore for us. Except, I was trinket shopping for Tuff, so my shopping was actually fun. I wanted do my shopping at a particular store, which is one reason why Tuff hasn�t received anything yet. Anyway, for fun and efficiency, I had Colleague help me choose trinkets. (I said to him: �Look you bastard, go over there and find a couple of trinkets for Tuff.� Only Tuff came out sounding like �my friend�.) I did have to nix some of his choices but eventually he found something I approved of. We purchased Tuff trinkets and then went and did his shopping. When we got back, my boss saw us come in with our shopping bags. She asked me about it later. This is how that went. (Boss:) What�d ya get? Shoes? (Seriously. I don�t make this stuff up.) (CI:) Shoes? Why the fuck would you think that we bought shoes? You really think Colleague and I would go shoe shopping together? (Boss:) I dunno. (CI:) Boss, YOU are the one who buys shoes. Do I ever come in here to show you my new shoes? Ever? I always wear the same shoes. I wear these in the Summer (shaking my foot at her), and my other shoes in the winter. You�re the one who�s always showing me your new shoes. (Looking around her office.) Shit� look. You have 6 pairs of shoes in your office alone! (Boss:) Oh yeah. Hey, here�s the pair I was looking for this morning. (CI:) And, I think Colleague�s wife buys his shoes. (Boss:) Yeah, she probably does. So what�d you get? (CI:) Trinkets for Tuff. (Boss:) Oh, I want to see them! I showed Tuff�s trinkets to my Boss. She thought they were cool. So, there you are Tuff, you�re not only getting trinkets from me, some were chosen by my Colleague and all were reviewed and approved by the best Boss in the whole world. Now, what could be better than that? What? A million bucks? You�re a bastard, Tuff. your thoughts? seed flower