A customer, outraged at some damn thing or another, just asked me “How do you sleep at night?”
I was literally starting to form the words, complete with Rainier Wolfcastle accent, “On a bed of money with many beautiful women” when my internal censor kicked in and cut me off.
What’s your internal censor done for you lately?
Just this morning, a coworker I dislike passed by my desk:
Him: “Good morning.”
Me: “Morning.”
Him: “Nothing good about it, huh?”
Me: [censored]“Fuck you.”[/censored]
Not very witty, but hey.
I’m a volunteer computer tutor at my local library. Which means that I spend time with people who are varying degrees of computer illiterate, teaching them some basic skills.
I don’t mind the ignorance with respect to computers. But there are a few things I do mind . . .
“I think you are very patient, other people may not think so, but I do” I did not reply with “That’s because you can’t see the bitemarks on my tongue from keeping quiet”.
My internal censor generally manages to keep me from having sex dreams, or the dream where you’re naked in a public place. I suspect that my version of the latter is that I’m in a public place but not wearing shoes.
I don’t know why, but that is about the cutest thing I’ve seen all day! 
What she doesn’t say is that she’s naked in shopping malls during the day instead…
Only when I’m really out of it. Given that we just switched the clocks over to DST and I’m still behind on sleep…
looks down
Whew, I did remember to wear pants today.
I wrote a reply to this thread but my internal censor told me to abort it.
My internal censor doesn’t want me revealing what my internal sensor does.
Sweetie, we’ve all been reading your posts for years. You have no internal censor.
Thanks (I think)
Mine’s gonna get a workout over the next couple days. I’m slated to participate in a problem-solving workshop. Two days’ meetings to resolve what ought to be resolved by the engineers concerned talking at the coffeepot for ten minutes.
I’ve just got to remember to ask myself, whenever I’m tempted to open my mouth: Is what I’m about to say a Career Limiting Move? 
I always picture my internal censor as being Homer Simpson sitting in his little control room at the plant, passed out, covered in donut crumbs and drooling all over himself. Cause the thing for damn sure ain’t doing any work for me. Everything gets by him, then I have to spend a lot of time apologizing and trying to convince people that I’m not a raging bitch/mentally incompetent/an escapee from the loony bin.
Wake up you lazy bastard and start telling me when not to say bad stuff!
My life would probably be much different than it is if my internal censor had been operating for the first 30 years.
Standing over the Boss helping her with some PC problem or other, “Good God, your roots are brown!”
It barely kicked in in time.
I wanted to say, “Thank you, have a nice day.” But it came out “Eat shit and die, you pompous fucking scumbag.”
My censor’s a real laugh riot.
Mine is constantly kept busy keeping me from saying “Why didn’t you fucking say that to begin with?” and “Excuse me for answering the question that you asked instead of reading your mind to see what you really wanted to know.”
You mean I might not need this duct tape over my mouth?
my internal censor is easily confused. It’s like I have the short bus internal censor kid. The kind that fools you into thinking she’s high functioning and then drops you into an abyss of social embarrassment and emotional recrimination (that is internal).