I hate surprises. Hate them. People sneaking up on me scaring the daylights out of me- typically causes me to cuss. You grab me- I kick your ass. It’s a rule, I don’t make them I just follow them.
Because of this, I have avoided haunted houses and the likes. The typical Halloween entertainment would not end well for me. R has decided that we will take his daughter M to the local Haunted Trail tonight. He got called out at the end of the day to a very difficult area. This very sick part of me sort of hoped he would be delayed so long it would ruin this evenings plans. His job has ruined our plans before, this would be a welcome interruption.
Alas, he amazingly solved the difficult call out and made it home in the nick of time. I leave in 15 minutes to meet them at the trail. I am terrified I am going to drop an F bomb in front of his 13 year old daughter. Not that she hasn’t heard it before- she just hasn’t heard it from her Daddy’s girlfriend.
All evening I have been practicing saying non-offensive words. Nuts, Snot, Fudge….when was the last time you yelled “Fudge” when someone came at you with a chain saw? This should be interesting.
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