Menace II Society

Anyone who knows me is well aware of my sarcastic, often inappropriate sense of humor. I value a sense of humor in people over any other trait, even honesty or bravery. Because while I do admire the person who returns a lost wallet or dares to fight off a pack of wild grizzlies with a flashlight, show me a person who can put on a puppet show using a maxi pad and a condom and I will bow down before him.

Much like the circus freak who finds good company in the bearded lady and the lobster-clawed boy, I tend to surround myself with people who appreciate the same sort of buffoonery as me. And yes, I married a man who consistently outperforms me in the inappropriate humor category, but I find it comforting to know that when I say things like, "I'm going to sell a kidney to the gypsies so I can buy a new Nikon" he knows that I'm joking about the gypsy part.

Unfortunately it also creates a false sense of security, and we tend to forget that not everyone shares our moronic sense of humor. We forget that the innocent stranger happening upon our house may not see the comedic genius in farting and then blaming it on the cat. Not that that ever happens around here. I'm just saying.

So I guess I should have been watching my tongue a little better when I was having a conversation with one of the other moms at the school a couple of weeks back. We were talking about what we had done over the winter break, and I mentioned that we had taken a trip up north to see friends, and how many a dinner was saved by the fact the girls had gotten GameBoys from 'Santa.'

Nice Mom: Oh, does that keep them busy for awhile?

Me: Yes! We call it 'Crack In The Box' because it's so addicting. Hahahaha! HA!

I remember hearing a sort of nervous guffaw escape from her throat, and then a judgmental arching of the eyebrows as her lips stretched into a tight smile. Then she slowly backed away, reaching into her purse for her cell phone where she had Children's Services on speed-dial.

I'm not sure what she was thinking, but the mere fact that I mentioned the word 'crack' in a conversation involving my children seemed to shock her and get that righteous mothering blood boiling. Did she think I was a crack user, and therefore well-schooled in its addictive qualities? Did she think I regularly gave my kids crack and had thereby tested it's ability to render them mute during stimulating adult dinnertime conversation? Or, more unfortunately, WAS SHE ABSOLUTELY BEREFT OF A SENSE OF HUMOR?

I mean, even the idea that I would actually give my kids drugs is preposterous, since everyone knows I wrap them in duct tape and lock them in the garage when I need a little 'me' time.

Whatever the reason, the Nice Mom has now cast her judgement on me, and I have been flung in the pile with the crack whores and the child-beaters and the overdue library book offenders. While she used to greet me with a cheery smile and stop to chat, she now gives me a wide berth and pulls her children a little closer when we pass on the yard. Call me paranoid, but I could have sworn I heard her whisper to her son the other day, "It's the drug lady. Remember, just say NO."

Dear God, please don't let her see my blog.

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