Drunk and Debauched

Most of my bloggings are written while drunk - not necessarily me, but the readers.
No, really, I am actually a little drunk when I write these things. I find that a little buzz frees me from the constraints of propriety - not that I usually feel too constrained to begin with. Today, however, I am sober as a Muslim during Ramadan.

As a kid I was so incredibly repressed when it came to saying what I wanted to say. I was always dying to blurt out something really really inappropriate and on the few occasions when I did that, my mother was ready to swat me like a fly. If you've kept up with these blogs, you know some examples of my fitful malefactions (the underwear "gift", the Lacoste giveaway) which caused my mother so much grief.

Despite the all-encompassing nature of my mothers efforts to repress me, I have never, in my adult life, found it all that hard to avoid a full-on rebellion against her way of thinking. Instead, I have maintainted a mildly rebellious nature throughout most of my life, doing little things to annoy her conservative sensibilities.

I never became a drug addict or worse - goth, although I came close a few times. I have never solicited prostitutes or become an abusive alcoholic. I have never killed anyone, nor have I killed their pets. These are all things that would probably bother my mother a lot.

I know she really hates when people curse. My brother Aldo, who is an abusive alcoholic drug addict and I think he probably has killed some pets, can do all sorts of really bad things for which he should be (and has been) arrested, but my mother seems to get most upset when he uses dirty words.

"It's the drink that makes him talk like that!"

"Ma, he killed the neighbor's cat with a shovel!"

"I know! It's awful. But, you know, I think I heard him say 'F' when he was doing it! Why does he have to use that filthy language? I mean, does it make him feel better when he is killing the cat? Why is that necessary?"

I, myself, have never used the type of language Aldo uses in front of my mother. However, as I get older I have gradually come to the point where I will say the words: ''bitch'', ''bastard'' and ''hell'' in front of my mother. Every time I use them she makes a face.

The odd thing is that she has always just gotten the biggest thrill of her day when using almost any phrase with the word "ass" in it: STUPID ASS, DUMB ASS, PAIN IN THE ASS, ASS ACHE, KISS MY ASS, YOU'RE AN ASS. I think she tells herself it's OK because she's using the word "ass" as "donkey" which is the same thing. But we all know she's not thinking "donkey" when she says it.
To her credit, I suppose, she never uses the terms: ASSHOLE, ASSWIPE or FATASS.
I use those terms frequently. I like the way they sound.

My mother did actually use the word "Asshole" once - to my knowledge.

I was 13 and attending the 7th grade at St. Benedict's Academy and one day, during a family party, my mother repeated a joke she'd heard at work (where the other women used to "talk about diddle doos and use all kinds of filthy words") in which the word "asshole" was the punchline.
I was upstairs listening to the joke and thought it was a good one and wanted to tell my best friend, Denny. Denny had always thought I was a freak because I didn't curse, so now that I'd heard my mother curse, and since it was told in such an innocent and funny way, I figured God might not kill me for saying, asshole.
So, the next day after school, (I couldn't actually tell the joke IN school because one of the nuns might hear it and expel me) on the way to the Video Hut to play Donkey Kong with Denny, I told him I had heard a really funny joke and I started to tell him.
I still remember the way I felt when I told the joke. I had almost put myself out of my body in case God struck me dead and my soul would be able to escape my body and take over someone elses in an instant. Denny didn't flinch when I told the joke. I had been thinking, he's gonna notice that I am saying a dirty word and he's never heard me say one before. But the dirty word came at the end and, while I nearly had an aneurysm at the exact moment the word, "asshole" came out of my mouth, Denny barely seemed to notice! What's worse, his reaction to the joke was kind of tepid. He laughed but it wasn't so big. I was expecting roars. I mean, it was almost like giving up my virginity - saying this word! Up until then I had had a perfect record! My fan was nearly rusted solid from not turning for thirteen years! Now I had moved it. It turned once and was well on it's way to becoming an air conditioner for the angels.

Well, that was the beginning of my demise. Since then, things have just gone to hell and I no longer have a chance at not decomposing when I die.

So sad.