Scarred for life

Thursday was our office Secret Santa swap.

I went into this thing all excited because I drew a great recipient and had fun making up the gift.

I was not expecting to leave the event with bleeding ears.

Let me explain.

There is a person in our office whose views are, well, let's just say I am not even sure that Ultra-Conservatives would have him. This person thinks Democrats are disciples of Osama Bin Laden. That a scorched earth policy in Iraq is being generous. That John McCain is a big pussy.

Oy.

But he is also a nice guy, a family guy who might be in his mid-50's or so, who buys coffee for everyone and who blushes when a pretty lady talks to him and is super formal and polite. (Until, of course, he opens his mouth and all this political scariness falls out)

So of course his Secret Santa bought him the Hillary nutcracker.




Which made everyone laugh.

Until he said: "I think this is what Rush Limbaugh call a 'testicle lock box'"

Um, wait, did he just say "testicle"? At the office Secret Santa swap?

"testicle lock box"? Really?

I mean I know that "testicle" is a technical term, and really it could also be called a "vagina cracker" but guess what, I don't want to hear either of those words at a Secret Santa swap.

Especially from the mouth of this sweet, white haired old gizzard. I mean I knew he has political values that differ from my own. And usually with him I avoid those conversation starters that start with "You know what Howie Carr says..." or "Guess what those stupid Democrats..."

But now whenever he opens his mouth, all I am going to hear is "testicle lock box".

Blurg.