Moon had a pizza party with his baseball team this afternoon at The Town Pub. Since the team was in the party room, I took peanut out into the main part of the restaurant to have some dinner. Halfway through the meal, a couple of guys sitting at the bar got into a heated debate about the fucking Yankees. I'd give you some dialogue snippets, but I know jack about the Yankees, and all I could really understand was a lot of "fuck" and "bullshit," (which both sound far more vulgar and impressive when shouted in an authentic drunken Jersey accent) Some bizarre motherly instinct took over, and I had to stop myself from telling them to watch their language. What kept me from speaking up was that:
A: I realized we were at a bar. A sports bar. In New Jersey. The clientele consisted mainly of plumbers, bikers, and a dude wearing a Roger Waters "Dark Side of the Moon" T-shirt.
B: My kids hear me say "fuck" every time I get really angry. Which has been three times already in the 2.5 hours they've been on summer vacation.
C: On the way to the bar, while pondering what the mascot might be for his new school, Peanut suggested they were likely called the "Forest Elementary F-Words."
So, I guess I'll leave the chastising of beligerent drunks to a mother who doesn't have a toilet mouth.
For the record, as the two guys became more heated (i.e., louder, more vulgar, and even less coherent), it was obvious that the plumbers and the biker were deeply offended. And the guy in the Roger Waters shirt got up and left in disgust. But the kids from Moon's baseball team thought it was awesome and kept trying to sneak out of the party room to listen. And I was pretty hungry, so I sat there and finished my pizza.
When in Jersey....bada bing!