Some how we got onto my love life, or lack there of, seeing as how I live with a fish and a bonsai. Zen, yes. Love, no. He was attempting to determine how deep my naturally prudish nature ran and for some reason I cannot pinpoint (most likely because I’d spent the last hour gossiping with him and he has the mouth of a sailor) I responded to one of his questions with:
“I’m not opposed per say to fucking around.”
It should be noted that I don’t really curse. I was trained in the classic art by an old roommate, but have made a point of not using the learned vocabulary that often. I’m really more of a “Grr” person than a “Damn” one. Simon, however, is not, and as I said, I’d spent the better part of an hour listening to him.
His response was an immediate one:
“Fucking A! Oh my fucking god! I can’t believe you just said that. Fuck.”
I wasn’t nearly so surprised, given my close proximity to, well, him and so said so. He did not agree with my conclusions.
“It’s not my fucking fault. You have never fucking heard me use the term fucking around. Never. That’s fucking cool. I can’t believe you said fuck.”
I was laughing so hard; I was practically bent in two. But I’ll be honest. I haven’t ever heard him use the phrase “fucking around.” Never.
Wonder where I picked it up?
Makes me wonder what Ms. T---- would say. She was the councilor/protocol advisor at my old school. She used to fuss at me for saying dude. I can still hear her calling after me down the hall about professionals speaking professionally. Guess she never actually met a professional. :p