>Thursday night, I attended Husband’s office holiday dinner. It was very nice and I was on my best behavior. I managed to refer to people on general as “fucking assholes” only twice over the course of 3.5 hours. Not bad, right?

During dinner, I sat next to Husband’s boss’s wife. We chatted about family, and I told her that other than my cousin, who attends college near NYC, my whole family lives in the Chicago-area and the Midwest. Fortunately, I explained, I am very lucky to have a mother-in-law who is very kind to me and who regards me as her own (albeit insane) daughter. Boss’s wife said that of course my MIL accepts me; I’m “very sweet.” Good god lady, you have so misjudged me based on our two meetings in life, and both times I had to keep my foul mouth gritted in a smile since I didn’t want to hinder Husband’s career.

This is the second time this year, though, that someone has met me and decided that I am “sweet.” On mother’s day, Future Sister-in-Law’s parents met me for the first time. Over the course of the day, I cracked many offense/inappropriate jokes and little comments. Yet they later called FSIL and raved about how “sweet” I am.

Perhaps I am sweet like brown sugar. Every time we buy a box of brown sugar, it hardens into a rock within a few days, rendering it sweet, but useless as an ingredient as well as dangerous because it could knock someone out. I was going to say that I am as sweet as a sugar cube covered in mold, but I am not sure that sugar actually can get moldy.

Anyway, I am heading home to Chicago for the weekend, where many people think that my grandmother is sweet until she calls them cunts. What can I say? It obviously runs in the family.

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