On hearing results for a college assignment (meant to be done over a period of months, but me being me, I compressed it into about 4 days) - “fucking hell”, quite loud, in front of a room full of students and several lecturers. (I am a very old fashioned person who very very rarely swears in front of family or authority, and the result I got was ‘distinction’)
Not exactly a creative or original response I admit, but completely out of the blue. (I covered my mouth imediately)
Another time - what can only be described as the ultimate girl walked past the window I was sitting by - “oh my shitting god!” was my response (after splurting coke everywhere). This caused a chain of similar reactions from friends on the same table.
Post your best completely unexpected, unintended, funny reactions (doesn’t have to be swearing)…
Away from work, I have something of a potty mouth. However, I have to behave myself while on the job. One gray day, I heard a sudden clap of thunder, loud enough to rattle the walls and make things fall off shelves, loud enough that I swore something nearby blew up. You’d think this would warrant a “Holy fuck!” or at least a “Jesus Christ!” No. In front of God and man, I yelped “Holy Cow!”
It was actually more embarrassing than using real profanity.
A few years ago, my then-80 year old mother was visiting at Christmas time. My car was dying, having suffered some unseen, yet terminal condition from being rear-ended earlier. Despite onstant vigilance on water levels and engine temperature, the Maxima would occasionally and suddenly stop, no matter where it was (the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel was one such fun spot). So, I was looking for a new car and nursing the old one. Realizing that the old Maxima was not going to make it on trips to car dealers, Mom and I went to a rental agency. About a mile from the agency, the Max died. I managed to pull the car over and yelped “I’M NEVER GONNA GET ANOTHER FUCKING CAR!!!”
:eek:
My sweet mother, whose worst English swear words are “Hells Bells,” just quietly said “It’s okay, dear. I’m something will work out.” And she scowled at the car.
There is a phrase used by Shannon Doherty in the film “Heathers” which apparently stuck in some dark and unused crevice of my mind…
…and then bubbled to the surface and fell out of my mouth, one dark night at work when one of the patients tried to set his room on fire as part of an escape attempt.
Sitting across a table from my girlfriend of the time, chatting over lunch, the topic of discussion meandered to the reason I’d made a specific change in my personal life.
Rather sweetly I briefly explained my thought processes leading up to the change and that I’d (youthfully, foolishly, and honestly) done it for her.
She dropped her sandwich and her face went through four emotions so in such rapid succession that I barely had time to register them before the next one overtook her.
With each expression she gave a meek “For me?” to match the expression.
“I did it for you…”
plop
“For me?” - curiosity
“For me?” - skepticism
“For me?” - sorrowful acceptance
“For me?” - confusion
It took me a moment to gather in what had just happened and as she sat there looking at me all wide-eyed and inquisitive, all I could do was crack up hysterically. I laughed so hard I cried and even she caught the giggle bug. The whole lunchroom thought we were mad but it was one of those classic moments that even now I can get a laugh out of her with just a “For me?” and a smirk.
Me and a friend were walking through some woods. I had new shoes on. I ‘stepped in’ a mud hole. I said something along the lines of “awww, wrecked them” which sounded so much like ‘rectum’ that we burst into hysterics.
During my first term at University, the college’s new Bar Committee were having an induction evening for the new volunteers. As part of the evening’s hilarity, the Chairman had declared that for the purposes of bladder relief, genders were to be reversed - guys had to go in the ladies, girls into the gents. I wasn’t part of the Committee so the first I knew of this was when, somewhat refreshed, I stepped into the gents to be confronted with the good-looking new barmaid as she stood and guarded the cubicle door for a colleague. Really, quite impressively good-looking. And, let’s be fair, she was on my turf. The ice was well and truly broken, and this was my chance to show what an understanding, good-natured and stand-up fellow I was, by making no big deal of the whole thing and striking up a light, witty conversation. Unfortunately my mouth got there ahead of my brain and voiced the (wholly natural) surprise I felt at seeing a girl in the gents. Blurted I:
“Fuck me, you’ve got big tits for a bloke.”
Pretty smooth, huh?
My sister, however, once invited a guy to “Suck my strap on cock.” Butter wouldn’t melt.
An occasion comes to mind on which I tried (unsuccessfully) to censor my speech.
It was losing a particularly painful game of Parcheesi, and I burst out at an opponent:
“Oh, you stupid f— SHIT!”
Six of one, half a dozen of the other, really. I needn’t have bothered.
One night, he and his girl friend were making out. He slipped a hand down the front of her pants and stopped, surprised. She told him that she’d shaved and didn’t he think it was sexy? Long pause. “If you shaved your cat, would you still want to pet it?”
I was one of the few people who actively tried to intervene when my neighbor’s ex-boyfriend attempted to break in on New Year’s eve and murder her. Thank goodness he went home and blew his brains out afterwards so we wouldn’t need to worry about him any more.
My neighbor absolutely hated me because I never let her ex-boyfriend’s jerk behavior slide (hogging both parking spaces in front of the house, etc.). Right after I got my wolf-hybrid, I was obliged to discipline him rather sternly for digging out of the yard for the fifth time in a row that afternoon.
She started yelling out her window that I was “… beating the shit out of my animal and I should stop abusing him, yadda yaddita.” I told her to take one look at her own cats that were all terrified of dust balls and examine who had the more dysfunctional animals. She retorted with how “everybody hates you, Chris!” followed by more filthy invective.
I instantly came back with:
“Yeah, well at least my old girlfriends don’t come back and try to kill me!”
That shut her up right quick. My landlord evicted her a few months later.
The best random vulgarity I’ve heard was from the brother-in-law of a friend of mine, who instantly labelled a driver that cut him off in traffic as a “twist-o-matic dickaflex”.
Last weekend, I was merrily whiling away the hours RPG’ing with a few friends. The DM had nicely prepared a mockup for the deck of a boat out of cardboard to help visualize a scene where our craft was being attacked by zombies wading in from shore (the rotting hordes being represented by an fierce-looking pack of six-sided dice. Don’t laugh; you haven’t know fear until you’ve been pursued by a batallion of plastic cubes). Our little lead figurines looked on in horror as the
The DM decided to have the zombies make a roll against their dexterity in order to make it up onto the deck, and decided that zombies have a DEX of 40 (whereas, in the game system we’re using, regular living, breathing heroes have an average DEX of 30).
One of the players, slightly miffed that he’d be fighting zombies with a dexterity worthy of an acrobat from the Peking Opera, exclaimed “What freakin’ zombie has a 40 DEX?!?”
The DM merely paused shaking the dice in his fist long enough to point at a single die in the pack and say “That one.”