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Fuhtenmouthe Syndrome…

Passion Parties. Have you heard of these yet? Neither had I until recently.  Think ‘Mary Kay (Cosmetics) wants to get laid’ and you’d just about have it right.  (Of course, with the line of products THIS company sells, a man isn’t exactly necessary for that)

I am my own victim more often than not and though the things other people unknowingly say tend to be my ultimate source of mirth, I often look over my shoulder only to find that my own Freudian-slip is showing.  Such was the case in this particular instance.  Here’s what you DON’T want to say in relation to Passion Parties, especially in mixed company:

Never ever shout across the room to a friend that if she decided to host one, you’d “love to come!” Because the first thing you’ll notice is a sudden silence that fairly screams you’ve got the WHOLE room’s attention…then you’ll see a-WHOLE-LOTTA evil grins quickly spreading across your *coughcoughsocalledcough* “friends” faces, and it will be right about THAT moment that the light-bulb of mortification will illuminate your unfortunate choice of verbiage and you will then be compelled to forcefully correct yourself with an “I mean GO! I would GO to one!” – except this will only clue in anyone else who missed the initial fumble (not to mention emphasizing your possible over-enthusiasm for the topic at hand)…and then all hilarity will break loose…and it will all be at your expense…just like it was at mine.   Fuhtenmouthe Syndrome…a.k.a. Humiliations Galore.

That was a rough 20 MINUTES I’m tellin’ ya!  It must’ve taken another 15 minutes for the flaming blush of shame to cool.  Geesh…some people really live in the gutter…I mean, other than me of course. *big evil grin*

And now, a Deep Though by Jack Handy: “A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. “Hear that?” you say. “That’s dynamite, baby.”

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