Crass Words and TMI

Editor's note: this post contains minor language used in an explanatory manner, describing an event that occurred today in which I used foul language but was unaware that it was, indeed, foul (I still don't necessarily grasp its foulness). If you are easily offended, get off of the Internet. Please. Save yourself some heartache, girl-friend. Go polish your nails.


The morning started out great. I got to sleep early and, as always, I got up in the middle of the night. I Here is the festering, maggot-infested tag of Things I Hate hate that, and it does not happen unless I get to sleep early.

The sun was shining (OK, it wasn't, but clouds to me is sunshine!), and it was one of those charmed days where you can almost hear extravagant background music set to whatever you're doing. It was chilly and, oh, you know the tale.


My Grandmother called and said she couldn't make it to church due to "explosive blasts of air emanating from the mouths of her husband and his uncle." She informed me that they do not cover their mouths when these blasts of air manifest. They are called sneezes. This would be my undoing.

After that, I updated her on what happened that morning with Popoe. He had escaped twice due to other people, and each time I had to capture him.

"Yeah...you know those two kittens that need their balls cut off?" I asked. She laughed. "Well, yeah, Kev. What about them?"

My mom began frantically waving at me. I continued, unabated.

"Well, you know Popoe? He's the one who REALLY needs his balls cut off!" She laughed again. "OK, yeah?"

My mom walked over. "Kev! That's crass!" I looked at my mom concernedly, not knowing what in the world crass could mean, and continued.

"Well, he escaped, and..." I told her the story. We chatted for a while, then I hung up. I then learned the definition of "crass." I had previously learned the term "crude" from a friend on the internet, whose name I will not divulge for fear of retaliation. They're more or less the same, I'd come to find out. I wondered at how such a basic household term could be considered improper.

I considered it more [easy] to say "balls" than "testicles." Testicles to me always seemed worse than "balls." Like saying "You've got some mustard on your brain-cover" versus saying "You've got some mustard on your face." Testicles is just too long a word. It's not necessarily that we curse in Latin at my house, it's just that we use words such as these that are easier to say.

Regardless, I now know I should say "testicles."




We then went to church. Dad decided we'd try a new route, and we didn't need directions. We were set to arrive at 10:25. We got there at 10:45. We walked up just to hear the bell ringing "It's time for church!" in its special way. I didn't know it was that loud from the outside. The door was locked again, but after banging on it for a few minutes, the lock just opened. I'm thinking about changing that lock, actually, if it'll open that easily. I'll do that this Wednesday.

[Pastor's thinking, "Oh, no he won't! I'll change his locks if he does that!" I recently learned Pastor is reading my blog. The shame of it! Now each time I speak of Metroid and/or Samus Aran, I'll exacerbate my nerdy video game image. Oh, also...excuse for a Samus/Metroid tag.]


...anyway, after the service (in which I drew a hand successfully! With ink and paper!), I mingled with the other attendees. Once most were gone, I wandered into the sermon room to see what all the fuss was about. A group of 5 were in there talking- the Justice, the Hitman, Mr. dataDyne, Don Pianta (he's still waay too tall), and Mr. Bruckner. I think it was Mr. Bruckner, at least. He's still leading the singing.

I wasn't too sure what they were talking about, but I was very comfortable in the back of the room supporting my face on the chair in front of me. I was considering taking a nap. It seemed as if Hitman had asked a question, and, magically, they all assembled to hear the answer. It was like the Wizard of Oz but with men. And no ruby slippers. Did I mention most of them were balding?

Then the Justice distributed papers on the subject from seemingly nowhere! They weren't made of plastic, but they sure were fantastic! Magical, poof out of dust! The Justice walked back near where I was (I was 10 feet right of the entrance to the sermon room), and closed the door. He walked back. I wondered why I didn't get any papers, and why there were only enough for those gathered. Then it hit me. They were having a BORED MEETING, as Pastor calls it!

I sidled out of there with haste. I don't know if pastor saw me or not, but I didn't want him to discover me when they were halfway through talking about the surprise Christmas gifts they'd be buying me with the church funds. Once back in the fellowship hall, as I deem it, I talked a bit with the pastor's wife, the Mrs. Support Justice.

My mom said, "Hey Kev, did you tell anyone about Grandma?" "No, what do you mean?" "That they were out sick?"

"Oh, yeah," I turned to the Support. "She's out today because her husband and his uncle don't cover their mouths whenever they sneeze, and-" I began, but my mom gave me that look again. "Keeev, you don't need to tell her that!" "Oh, I don't?" I asked, clueless, as pastor's wife put her hand up and said "TMI." We all got a laugh out of it, and my naivety was once more put on display for all the room to see.


I was alright with it, though. Perhaps it is a bad thing to say that someone doesn't cover their mouth when they sneeze, but I don't consider it bad (as long as they stay home!). I mean, I tend to read the book of Job and get all depressed and start mumbling about how my strength isn't as the strength of stones and my skin is not brass and stuff when I get sick.

It's something I can't change (Job is my "what's happening to me isn't so bad but I can still relate and be depressed" book), and I don't go to church and tell people to let the day in which I was born perish and the night in which they determined I was a boy also perish. I suppose it is sort of private, I just don't think so. It seemed perfectly honest; it appears I have a lot to learn yet.



This post is longer than I had hoped; some day I'll develop the ability to leave things unsaid that need not saying. Like this entire line. Ah well. It was rife with embarrassing information, and even had a bright red line at the top, so that should make up for its length. Actually...let me edit it and see if I can make it shorter.


That's [a little] better. I've got things to do tomorrow, so off to sleep I go.