Parrothead Ramblings

Welcome Back, Mary E!

WARNING: Gutter mouth potty words follow!

I have this friend we'll call Mary E. She's a devout Catholic, and is without question one of the kindest, most compassionate people I've ever had the pleasure to know. She probably would have become a nun if she hadn't found out sex was so much fun. She drinks me under the table, curses like a sailor with Tourette's, and tells the most foul, disgusting jokes imaginable. She's my kind of girl.

Now, I don't know a lot about Catholics, Good Friday, Holy Monday, and all that stuff. I'm from the heathen branch of the Crime Dog clan, the rest of 'em are all Texas Baptists, and don't none of us know Lent from that stuff we pluck out of our bellybuttons. But to Mary E, Lent holds some very deep meaning. It seems that, to honor the occasion, she has to sacrifice something near and dear to her heart for like, I don't know, forty days or thereabouts. For her, the toughest thing to avoid is the aforementioned blue-streak cursing. Naturally, that's what she gives up. So for forty days, I hear a lot of 'shoots', 'craps,' and 'darns.' 'Bitches' become simply 'B's,' and 'fucking' turns in to 'effing.' Oh my heck, it's like living in effing Utah.

I used to try and trip her up - like goad her in to letting a 'fart' slip. No, not a real fart, just the word itself. I got her good one year when we started doing quotes from one of our jointly favorite flicker shows, "The Blues Brothers." The line goes:

"Shit!"

"What?"

"Rollers."

"No!"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

It sounds cool when Jake and Elwood do it. Anyway, I started with the first "shit," and Mary E jumped in with "what?" By the time we reached the end, the "shit" rolled right out of her. OK, again, just the word. Get your mind out of the latrine. Sheesh.

I don't do that to her any more. It's so easy, it just seems mean. Sort of like playing checkers with my Golden Retriever, whom I beat 6 out of 10 games this past weekend. Anyway, I didn't want Mary E to end up in Hell someday, screaming "Damn you Crime Dog! I was so close!"

Well, even though I know squat about Lent, I always, without fail, know when it ends. Mary E has got to make up for lost time. Lent officially ends on the day I get the following phone call:

Riiiiing!

"Hello. Crime Dog speaking."

"ShitPissCuntFuckCocksuckerMotherfuckerTits!"

"Mr. Carlin? That you? Your voice has really changed."

"DouchebagTurdFartTwatAssholeBitchFuckwadAsswipeBastardMotherfuckerDouchebag!"

"Oh, sorry! It's you, Mary E! I can tell, because George almost never begins and ends a sentence with 'douche bag'. Whoa! Lent must be over! How you doing?"

"ShithookBlowjobFuckstick?"

"I'm fine, too, thanks for asking. What can I do for you?"

"CockAssringShitbirdMotherfucker."

"Sure. Not a problem. You need me to pick you up?"

"AssholeFuckingTurdface."

"Definitely. I'll be there at 9:00. OK?"

"CocksuckingShitFuck, BastardWhore!!"

"Love you, too. Bye!"

"FuckingShit!"."

I got that call earlier today. It's great to have you back in full swing, Mary E!
Oh, and I apologize to any Tourette's stricken sailors out there who may have been offended by this. The rest of you, just lighten up. Or I'll sic Mary E on your ass.
  |