Anyway, Kat's post made me think of something that happened several years ago when my potty mouth tried to get me in trouble with the Lord. Well, kinda... We used to have season tickets to our local minor league hockey team who are no longer here. We had a blast at the games, and pretty much everyone in our section had been season ticket holders in the same seats since the start of the team several years before that.
However, this particular night our top goalie was out with a major injury and wouldn't be back for months, if ever. We were all pretty upset about it, but they had to put in the rookie who was this punk kid from Harvard who hadn't had to start a game yet. As a person, I loved him. As a player, he hadn't proven a thing to us yet. Being the minors, we had to have an amateur (someone who just played in the local men's hockey league) dress as backup on the bench that night because you can't just pick up a goalie overnight like you can in the NHL.
I am normally a very supportive fan, but there is only so much a girl can take. This goalie (who we called Luc-pronounced "loosh") was having the worst game in the history of our team. We were down like 6-1 and our goalie let in another puck. After which, I promptly stood up and screamed, "Luc, you are a sorry sack of SHIT!" I'm sure I looked something like this at the time.
He proceeded to go on and on about how he was a preacher and he didn't appreciate my language in front of children. Of course, I looked over his shoulder and his granddaughters were sound asleep. I let him go on for a few minutes, before I stood up so he would back the hell off.
Me: Are you finished? Because I'd really like to say my peace now. You are at a HOCKEY game, Mister. You have sat in this section and renewed your season tickets year after year when you could move anywhere else in this arena. You know how all of us are in this section, and we have never sat here quietly watching the games. Those kids with you are oblivious to what's going on to the point that they could get nailed in the head with a puck! Feel free to move your season tickets, and I'm sure you'll hear much worse than what has come out of my mouth. So you can go back to your seat, get out of my face, and kiss my ass! I am not in church, and I don't appreciate you coming over here to preach at me.
He went back to his seat with a glance at my parents who were sitting beside me who just looked on stunned that he had even approached us. My mother patted me on the back (gotta love that woman!) and my friends who sat in front of me turned around to ask what the hell he had just said to me. Misty, who had 2 small children of her own, promptly turned around, looking right toward him and said, "FUCK HIM!" God bless her. I wanted to kiss her at that point.
By the way, he never changed his seats to another section.
P.S. Kat showed her puppies for all of you menfolk's heart health like Oilfield Trash requested. I didn't want to tell you before now because I wanted to finish my damn story. So go enjoy and show her some love for the sacrifice.