My Minneapolis Summer: Walking the Line

I am definitely my father’s daughter. Or at least, I am the result of watching my alleged father my entire life, as he sometimes claims that I technically the daughter of the milkman.

 

Still, one of the traits Captain Cliffy (CC from here on out) have in common is that we both like to walk the line of…inappropriateness. We like to be a little outrageous with our jokes and our actions. We enjoy getting a rise out of people, whether that be with a one-liner that’s so bad, people can’t help by bend over with laughter, or with a comment, sarcastic remark, or maybe even an action that causes people to wonder if they should cringe or giggle.

 

CC and I both have learned (although, sometimes the hard way) that there’s a time and a place for the sense of humor. Sometimes, it’s definetly not appropriate. Sometimes it’s good to go. And if it’s on the edge of good or bad, instead of waiting to find out if it’s appropriate, we’ll often just do it. Risk it. Why not?

 

I often use my profanity-laden jokes (ha, you thought with my cute little apron and cookie recipes I was totally from the fifties, right? Wrong. I’ve been dropping F-bombs since the 7th grade) to weed out friends. I mean, if someone can’t take a joke or gets offended by sarcasm, it’s just not going to work out. And it’s me, it’s not her. I’m not willing to change my sense of humor just because a joke about how I’m going to marry rich and never work could be seen as feeding into all the stereotypes feminists have spent centuries attempting to undo. I mean, there are days that I take the elevator up one set of stairs because I’m too tired to walk. I clearly don’t have the energy to consider all the ramifications of a joke with purely innocent intentions, especially around my friends. And sheesh, if we’re friends, we’re probably going to happy hour. Too tired and you’re adding alcohol to the mix? I most certainly won’t be filtering my words.

 

This “playing with fire” philosophy used to be an issue in my personal life as well. I take a very “what the hell!” approach to a lot of things, which I’ve learned can have very good or sometimes very horrible consequences. Sometimes it’s fun: I might be lactose intolerant, but if I’m at an ice cream stand and it’s 102 degrees out, what the hell! One small vanilla softserve isn’t going to throw my digestive system into retirement.

 

And sometimes it’s very bad. Like, if I decide to try the shellfish at a restuarant even though I KNOW I’m allergic but it smells good and gosh, I’ll be fine, I insist to everyone. And then my lips get all tingly after one bite. And then I can’t admit that at all because I just made a HUGE deal about how one bite wouldn’t hurt. Whoops.

 

I’ve also learned that the “Eh! What the hell!” mantra is no good when it’s a big decision. Well, perhaps for a big decision it’s okay, but for a permanent decision? Don’t even think about just “what the hell”-ing it. You draw out a chart and weight the pros and cons. Want to know how many times I’ve sat down and actually thought about my rooming situation in college? Once. This year. And that was only because after three years of being pretty unsuccessful, my own mother thought I was bitching too much to just sign a lease without considering important things like, “do you actually think you can live successfully with these people?” And by live, she means actually spend time in the house and not run over to my boyfriend’s every time someone I have a rough time handling walks through the door.

 

In my old, old age, I’ve also learned that some smaller decisions can have big consequences later if you don’t think them through. An old, old high school/middle school boyfriend e-mailed me a few weeks ago and wants to try and be friends. I thought about just shooting back an email with a “sure, whatever.” I mean, I don’t really care. Innocent, right? I reconsidered, and then woke up three time zones to discuss the consequences of my reply. My gut said no. And I had three worldly advisors agreeing with me. Not because it wasn’t innocent. But because relationships and friendships always end for a reason. Reopening a friendship? Unless the relationship ended because of distance and now said friend is moving in to the other side of your duplex, you’re probably better off. Why rock a ship you’re enjoying smooth sailing on?

 

CC and I have learned to behave ourselves in social settings. Well, for the most part. We tend to mutter things under our breath. CC’s wife (aka, “mom”), has very good hearing, and she says she doesn’t appreciate our mumbling. I’m pretty sure she’s lying. We’re hilarious. As long as you appreciate raunchy, outrageous, and a little goofy humor.