Capcom is responsible for my swearing habit.

This guy. This guy right here is partially responsible for my cursing habit.

 *I'd like to apologize in advance to my Mother for this post. Ma, cover your eyes.

This past weekend, Readers, as many of you know, was PAX. This video game conference attracts gamers from all over the country for a weekend of oohing and ahhing at the latest and greatest in video gaming technology.

I had the great privilege to host two particularly awesome people who were visiting our fair city of Seattle for PAX. The futon was laid out, the decaf was brewed, and Mega Man 9 was downloaded onto the Wii for some retro entertainment.

I'm not sure what exactly it is, Readers, but there is something about that little blue robot that compels me to use language that would make a sailor blush.

During this stage, my guests were laughing hysterically at me as I was screaming, *cover your eyes, Ma*"F--- YOU, SPLASH WOMAN! F--- YOU WITH A SPLINTERY POST!"

I usually don't swear much, Readers. When I'm doing the receptionist thing at work, I adopt a squeaky-clean "Receptionist Persona", and while I'm validating parking, scheduling meetings, answering the phones (et cetera et cetera), the dirtiest thing to escape my lips is usually some variation of "Oh, dear."

(By the way, Readers, I've found that my "Receptionist Persona" can be really, REALLY useful outside of the workplace. I'll blog more on that later).

It probably comes as no surprise that once I get home from work, I go through a reverse Pygmalion transformation of sorts. Once the high-heels come off, the "Receptionist Persona" comes off too and I find myself letting my not-very-ladylike tendencies manifest.

Even then, I usually don't swear much. This probably stems from my very conservative upbringing, where I wasn't even allowed to use the word "crap". Cursing was replaced by a list of "almost-swears", which I find just don't have the same cathartic affect. I mean, let's be honest with ourselves, Readers.  When you slam your hand in a dresser drawer, will yelling "GOSH DARN IT! THAT STINKY WINKY DRESSER! MY HAND HURTS LIKE A MUSSY FUDGER!" have the same effect of what we all know would ACTUALLY be said?

In some ways, the non-swearing cursing is MORE gross and MORE hurtful than the swearing kind. When I was in 6th grade, the worst thing I ever heard uttered from a kid's mouth was *Mom, cover your eyes"Go make out with your grandma, you zit-licker!" That kid, however, deserves a medal for his creative use of the English language.

There is something about Mega Man, Readers, that turns the "curse like an agitated drunk in a biker bar" switch on in my head. That Friday evening, as I was guiding the blue pixelated android through Splash Womans'....Splash fortress?  I weaved a tapestry of lexicon-foulness that was so thick and so putrid that it flew out of my window, circled around the Queen Anne district four times, and is now floating somewhere over Lake Union.

I'm not going to Dr. Phil this any, Readers. You can interpret the Mega Man trigger as you will (Leave me a comment about it, though! That mess will be HILARIOUS!).

My cursing aside, the weekend was a smashing success. The couple staying with us was an absolute RIOT! It's good to know that I have friends who will accept me as I am, even if I start cursing loudly at cartoony robots.

Until next time!