Holy Shit, a Nun!

One of the things I do a lot of (to the point that I don’t realize it) is say “God Dammit!” when I’m frustrated.  I don’t know where I picked it up, but my guess is at my old job (where I learned to swear like a pro).  It spreads like wildfire.  Lehane does it.  Cortejo does it.  Lydia says it (I refuse to take all the blame for that one).  You would think that I would have learned my lesson last summer:

I was in the back room of the radio station which houses important stuff like 2 bathrooms, the engineering room, the water cooler, coffee maker and mini fridge.  We don’t really hang out back there except when the coffee pot is percolating and we’re salivating like Pavlovian dogs for a cup of java.  I can’t remember exactly what Leh and I were talking about as she was filling the pot with water.  I was angry-ish though, and “Goddammit I wish people would stop making fucking excuses for that asshole douchebag.”  (I’m pretty sure we were talking about The Sizzle)

As these words are coming out of my mouth, I am turning around in the doorway of the back room to look out into the open concept station (where I can see the front desk and front door) and my words sort of trail off somewhere around the very loud “asshole”.  Lehane is pouring the coffee in the machine, and she is vehemently agreeing with me, using all the best French swear words.  If you’re not familiar with French swear words, 99% of them are all religion based.

“Lehane!”  I hiss.  “NUN!  There’s a nun!  Shut up!”

On my honor, there was a nun standing in the front office dressed in blue and white.  I didn’t know they dressed in anything but black and white.  She kind of looks like those statues of the Virgin Mary where she’s wearing the white veil with the blue robes.

“Haha, oh fuck off SJ.”  And Lehane continues to talk loudly about whatever it was we were discussing (which I’m almost certain is The Sizzle).  I have moved out of the doorway and am motioning wildly for her to shut the fuck up but she just keeps talking.  Finally she looks out the doorway and see’s the nun standing there (selling calendars) and freaks out.  I mean, freaks out.  She slammed that door so fast and threw herself against it like the lobby was filled with vampire pumpkins or giant spiders or…zombies or something.  “SJ!  Why didn’t you tell me there was a nun out there?”

“I did tell you!”

“Yeah but…it’s you!  How was I to know?”

What am I?  The girl who cried “nun”?

Last night I took the final plunge in becoming a crazy-cat lady-in training.  I was avoiding doing some real work (no idea why, it only took me 20 minutes) and he was playing with the bow-tie.  I thought, “Wouldn’t it be a funny picture of him in it?”  Yeah.  Crazy-Cat-Lady-Hood here I come.

I was taking a gander my schedule last night and planning which SCA events I might like to go to that are out of town.  I was talking to Jo’ at the same time and now I am all set up to go to Dandelion Festival in May.  I missed a visit with them at Christmas and they would like to see me again.  My former step-dad is going to be posted to Saint Jean for a year in order to get his next promotion (and who knows, D might meet up with him!) and so he offered to pick me up the Friday on his way home to visit.  I said “no thanks” because I have the event on Saturday and need a car to get to it.  Jo’ offered up her car for Saturday and said that Momar can drop me off on Sunday.

Further, Jo is now planning a ladies night.  Apparently, the last time they had one of these ladies nights the cops were involved.  I am going to start saving up the bail money and give it to Cortejo.  Just in case.

I’m also being invited down in the summer to spend a weekend at the campsite, go fishing and see Momar’s parents again.  It’s so weird…technically, Momar isn’t family.  He was my step-dad and not a very good one (understatement).  And  yet, in my adulthood, both he and Jo have treated me better than my own biological parents (or other step-parent).  I’m not saying that what happened all those years ago has been erased by simple words of affirmation and acts of kindness.  But I just don’t have the energy to hate him anymore.  I feel sorry for him, truly.  And Jo has always been good to me, apparently even in my childhood.

All that unpleasantness aside, I’m kind of excited.  I remember growing up hearing stories about “Sassy’s” (or “Trashies” as my Dad called it).  It’s now got a different name, but the reputation remains the same.  I wanna see!

Last night I spent a good bit of time talking to Brandy online.  I felt kind of bad as the two of us were in stitches remembering all the crazy things we said and did over the years, cause she’s got a wicked sore throat.  I remember she’d put 8 sugar into a medium coffee and then tell me sugar didn’t affect her.  Then she’d be awake til 4am.  She tells me I have to come home for a visit, that they’ve got a pull out couch now and plenty of space.  Who knows?  Maybe I’ll take a trip back East.

Speaking of people from back home…Abby is moving back to the city in 2 weeks with Rich.  We are going to make some plans to hang out.  It’ll be interesting to see if she’s changed at all.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Leh
    Mar 07, 2010 @ 14:27:53

    And I stand conformed. You ARE THE BEST STORY TELLER OF ALL! Haha! That’s exactly how the Nun story happened! :) You’re awesome!

    PS…so sorry if that didn’t make sense. I’m still waiting on those english classes ;)

    Reply

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