Crossing the Line

Throwing out the C word or as I like to say Cunt. I will admit I use the word. My internal filter works about as well as the paper coffee filter in my hotel room brew-a-cup. Did I mention the coffee maker is in the bathroom, exactly one foot away from where I defecate?

So last night I am sitting with some coworkers at another delicious meal out and about in Atlanta when a coworker asks me about a person we both knew at a previous employer. That is when I let the C word fly. I might have gotten a better reaction if I had spit my shrimp scampi in this guy's face. The look of shear terror was amazing. I could watch the guy's face try to mouth the word and not be able to after I said it.

Only twelve hours until we get on a plane together. Sweet!