I guess since this is supposed to be about my journey, we’ll go back…… way back. Most of my memories as a kid are happy ones. I was raised by the most amazing women I know – my mom and my grandmother. My father (a term I use loosely) has not been any part of the 30+ years I’ve been on this earth. My parents were never married and my mom worked her ass off so that I would never feel deprived.

**I planned on telling you stories of being a kid growing up in the country, but instead I will tell you how I just made a co-worker VERY uncomfortable (this story still deals with my childhood).**

What started off as office celebrity gossip on An.jelina & turned into me schooling her on the use of the word “Bastard”. Please allow me to have a Gold.en moment here.

Picture this; my job, 2008. Coworker stops by to talk about the Million Dollar pictures now out of the twins. Really all she wanted to do was talk how they are “to perfect”, “to pretty”, and how weird they are. To be perfectly honest I could care less about those two, but I know beautiful kids when I see them. All those kids are beautiful and the outrageous amount of money made from those pictures is going to great causes. Anywhoooo…….she turned the conversation from their weirdness to “you would think they would get married for the sake of the kids because right now they have 3 bastards.”

My first thought was “well I guess I am to”, and since the filter between my thought bubbles and my mouth is almost non-existent, (I said almost, I do have some control) I looked at her and said, wait for it………”I guess I am to”. Yes, she knew about my parents and yes I know she didn’t mean any harm. No, I’m not mad; she’s the one that put her foot so far in her mouth she’s tasting kneecap. She back peddled and said that people don’t really use that word anymore and tried to tell me stories about her divorced parents. That damn filter must be turned off because once again my thought bubble “you just did” was said out loud. *I know I really ought to have that look at but I’m pretty sure its genetic.* Luckily for all involved coworker #2 came into my office, so CW #1 escaped headed back to her desk.

*Hey, Sophia. Does this story actually have a point?

Why yes, my child it does. The point is don’t say something stupid to someone with a genetically defective thought bubble filter.


One response to “Detour

  1. I feel you on that one….

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