Mormon Conversations With Whoorl
Did anyone see my Jayhawks stomp the Kentucky Wildcats and the Niagara something-or-others this weekend? As my friend and former co-worker Joe would say, “FREAK! Those games were freaking awesome!”
Joe is Mormon and doesn’t speak any type of profanity, so when he gets really riled up or stressed out, he just yells “FREAK! FREAK!” over and over until happiness washes back over his soul. Joe is super easy-going and couldn’t care less if I happen to let a couple of nasty words spill forth, but out of respect to him, I try to keep my trucker’s mouth on the down low.
This usually does not work well. The pressure, people. The pressure of pleasant syntax crushes me every damn time.
Joe: That referee was pretty lame.
Whoorl: Dude, what a diii…thering idiot.
Joe: Did you try that new restaurant I was telling you about?
Whoorl: Oh my Gah…lly! That place was so good! But the service sucked…(stopping myself from adding “donkey balls” to the end of the phrase and now questioning the word “sucked”. “Fuck, did I just say sucked?”, repeats in my head, throwing me off. I have officially entered crisis mode.)
Joe: (oblivious to my internal crisis) Yep, my waiter wasn’t that great. He had a huge pink mohawk.
Whoorl: Oh my God, that was my waiter! Uh, I mean, oh my gah…shit…I mean shoot. SHIT! JESUS CHRIST JOE I CAN’T DO THIS!
Joe: Whoah, dude. Take it easy.