Do that again and I swear I’ll get the Pissoffs!!

So you know that moment when the words leave your mouth before your brain can kick you in the ass for even thinking about asking a woman if she’s pregnant…

Yeah.  Ugly doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Which by the way, you nerds out there?? How is it you can steal my identity seven ways from Sunday but can’t help me figure out how to stop my stupid??  And you guys are supposed to be smart.  Pshh.

Anyways… (as I heavily exhale).  There’s a reason the united mothers of the world swear their allegiance to soap.  Like mine used to tell me, “Mira!  Cabesa duro!  La proxima vez que NO PIENSAS antes de hablar, te voy a darle una lavado…”  It was my little Puerto Rican mother’s way of saying, “Hey blockhead!  Next time you wanna ruin somebody’s life I’m going make you eat the whole bar of soap!”  And believe you me when I say she would have backed it up. Those little Puerto Rican moms are fierce.

In my defense though, you can’t put a worm on a hook and not expect the fish to bite.  Am I right or am I right?  What was I gonna do?  The woman looked like she was carrying twins nine months in the making.  Anyone in my position would have thought the same.  I mean, you know, her belly was round, she walked with a wobble — never in a million years would I have pegged her fatness for being fat!

No disrespect to fat people.  I love fat people; in my experience they’re the funniest people in the world.

But I digress.

I was horrified!  To find out that I had called this lady pregnant when she wasn’t — well — I think if I could have lit myself on fire I would have poured the kerosene and struck the match.  But you can’t do that in a church!  They frown on that sort of thing.  Yeah. I said church.  Poor lady probably thought I was coming over to compliment her on her singing during service, which of course I wasn’t; she couldn’t sing to have worked her way out of a paper bag.  No, I was coming over to play nice about what I THOUGHT was a clever compliment.  I didn’t know I was gonna make her break out into tears!  And you should have seen her husband!  Talk about gulp.  I thought I was gonna have to pull a Brad Pitt and Elisabeth Taylor all in one and renounce my faith and my citizenship.

I mean, how do you recover from something like that?  You don’t, right?  Not without at least a million Hail Mary’s and a zillion Our Father’s.  The best I could do was slunk back into my hole and hope to God this lady wasn’t going to one day show up at the pearly gates of St. Peter’s — though I was pretty certain St. Peter had already tagged me for hell.

And boy how I tried to slunk.  But then people started congregating, asking questions…  I swear, if it wasn’t for my family offering me protection, they might of just strung me over a fire pit and resurrected the Salem witch trials right then and there.  I was a pariah, a-a-an outcast.  And who was I to be complaining when, if the circumstances had been turned around, I would have been doing the same: pointing the finger, looking disgusted, and giving the evil eye.

Take it from one who knows: Never ask a women if she’s pregnant unless it’s written on her forehead in permanent ink! Trust me; you’ll spare yourself a world of shame.

Inkling #24:
What is the Seven Thunders?  It’s Mr. Pissoffs Industrial Strength Janitorial Soap, used by only the finest pubs on the Isle.  Just ask Hermium’s dad; he’ll tell ya.  The latrines at the Drunken Monk have never been so clean.  Mr. Pissoffs Soap! — strong enough to strip porcelain and wipe out your nose hairs!