This is going to strike you as, well, unbelievable, I’m sure, but I’ve got a dirty mind.
What? You suspected?
I have that kind of face, though, the kind of face that makes people think I don’t swear or don’t write and re-write the filthiest of jokes when I hear someone use the words “meat thermometer” or “titular heads of state”.
Look, I know that there’s nothing dirty about the words “meat” or “titular”, but I also know that I am not alone in this, and sometimes, it just strikes me as funny.
See? Even now, I’m grinning on the inside, because if by any stretch of the imagination a word can have a double meaning? I want to be there.
Even The Boy has gotten in on it.
For example, I took him to a political event a number of years ago, when he was 20, maybe 21. There were quite a number of different groups there, Democrats for Tapioca, Republicans for a Safer Mouthwash, Lesbians for Lower Kitchen Counters. It was a diverse group, a big holding-hands, acoustic guitar, I’ve-got-poetry-books-for-sale-in-my-car kinda group. Dylan took one look at the couple next to us, two women holding hands, and quipped, “You didn’t tell me this was going to be a bush rally”.
Ha ha! You’re very funny, and you’re grounded to your room.
You don’t ground wit.
I don’t feel bad about it, my dirty mind. I enjoy it. I’m not loud, I’m not crude, and in a quiet setting where there are minors or disapproving adults in the mix, you’ll only know what I’m thinking by the inappropriate twinkle in my eye.
Dirty minds come with responsibility, you know.
We’ll meet up later and compare notes.