F Bombs

 Once a month we had what is essentially Student Council for professors.  We call it our Academic Congress.  It's always a Thursday so it's the perfect evening to hang out at the local chain restaurant - just another in a long line of mediocre places featuring a huge bar in the middle and beer pretzels as an appetizer.  We had been going more often this semester thanks to the chain's latest promotion, "Half Off Apps."  Sanji, Jillian, Sally and I would load up on what Sally called a 'poo poo' platter.  The first time Sally said it, Sanji said vehemently, "that is not a real thing."  "What?" said Sally.  "Of course it's a real thing.  My parents always ordered the poo poo platter when we went to Chung Hing!"  Sanji adjusted her slightly sticky laminated menu and replied, "First, as an Asian, I don't like you linking THAT to a culture's cuisine, second, it's called the App Sampler, thank you very much and third, you need to join us in the new millennium."  Jillian put her arm around Sally's linebacker shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

Just as the waitress arrived with mounds of once-frozen, now battered and fried heart attack snacks, I noticed a couple entering the bar area and said, "No. Effing. Way."  As my friends went to turn their heads I stage-whispered SHHHHHHH.  No, Don't look now. Everyone can take a turn looking in a few minutes.  Sanji was reluctantly dipping a chunk of soft pretzel into a ramekin of semi-melted cheese and said, "Or, you could tell us who walked in like a big girl."  "It's Melanie," I hissed, "with Dougie the Dick."  Jillian was sipping her first "two for one" Cosmo and almost gagged.  "I am dead effing serious," I replied.  Once Jillian recovered, she put her glass down and leaned over the table toward me.  "What's with saying "effing" all the time?  You taught me how to swear, remember?  I was a nice normal appropriate woman until you came along.  I caught the F bombs from you, remember?  And now my husband tells me it's "off-putting."  "Who says off-putting anymore?" asked Sanji, now rummaging through the platter for a buffalo wing.

Can we stay focused here, ladies? asked Sally.  "What are they doing?  Why are they together?"  Duh, they teach in the same fucking department," said Jillian, giving me a dirty look while she articulated the F word crisply.   Since they were in my line of sight, I answered "so far they are just looking at the menu.  Oh, Dougie got a light beer.  What a pussy.  Oh wait, now he's miming he needs a glass and they are both chuckling.  I bet he said, 'I'm not a barbarian or something stupid like that."  " Stop editorializing," hissed Sally.  "What's Jane Austen drinking?  Elderberry something or other?"  White wine, I replied, taking a gulp of my own.  As the waitress came with a glass for Doug, I saw someone walking up to their table.  "Oh. Fuck. Me." I moaned.  "It's about time you got real," said Jillian.  I spotted the razor sharp edges of a blonde bob and knew that Amanda must have called an English Conclave. "It's fucking Amanda," I said.  "That's two," counted Jillian, who had drained her cosmo and motioned for her second.