Everybody Needs a Little JFC

Guest Blogger: Ambular

A few years ago, when I was still living at home, Kendra called and left a message on our answering machine. It went a little bit like this “Hey, it’s me – give me a call back at 7-2-0-4-8JESUSF***INGCHRISTYOUSTUPIDBITCH!” and then she hung up.

I get home from school about the same time my dad got home from work, and my mom’s in the kitchen, cooking dinner. She gives me this look and says in the icy mom voice reserved for big trouble “KENDRA called. There’s a MESSAGE on the machine.” My dad and I looked at each other and went into the computer room to listen to the machine. After the message played, we looked at each other, eyes huge, until my dad starts laughing and says “play it again!” So I did, and I started laughing. My dad says “where did she learn to talk like that?” I said I didn’t know – maybe from her days in the Navy?

So we go back into the kitchen, where my mom is clearly “in a mood” about this. Pretty much my dad and I’s cue to stop laughing. Now, keep in mind, my mom is really big into church and Jesus and all of that. Not a Bible-banger, mind you, but a woman of faith, let’s say. But she’s cool about most things, in fact, I can say pretty much any word around her except for the ol’ JC (and f***, but I just don’t say that to her because I know she doesn’t like it) and she doesn’t care. However, Kendra had not only broken out the JC, but she added the bonus F word in there as well. I look at my mom and say “what’s the problem?” and she tears up and says “I just love him so much.” My dad and I wisely refrained from looking at each other at that point, because that would have been the end. Anyway.

So I call Kendra back and I’m like “Hey. NICE MESSAGE.” And she’s like “What? I just told you to call me back,” at which point I set her straight on exactly HOW she had told me to call her back. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a louder gasp of utter horror. “I THOUGHT I HAD HUNG UP!!!” she wailed. “In the middle of leaving your phone number?” I said.”Because you were and you didn’t.” After that came a few run-on sentences about how my mom was never going to let her in the house again and ohmygodI’msosorry. I calmed her down by telling her the rest of the story – about my dad and the laughing – and that was that.

The next time Kendra came to pick me up, I opened the front door and she practically shoved me out of the way and made a beeline for my mom “I am SO SO SORRY” she kept saying, and my mom hugged her and said “That’s alright Kendra.” And that was that. I was shocked. It was further proof of my theory that my mom secretly likes Kendra better than me. Because had I done that? I would have gotten yelled at or the silent treatment or something, but definitely not a hug. And to this day, she still loves Kendra.

Maybe a year later, Kendra and I are at my brother’s graduation party, and we are doing our usual thing where we laugh hysterically, and so my dad comes over and says “What are you guys laughing at? Is it Jesusf***ingChrist?” To which we laugh harder and say “Nooooo.” And my dad says “Oh. Well I say that a lot when I’m driving and I always think of Kendra.”

We now refer to the incident (often) as “JFC” – she’ll never live it down. But it’s cool, because everybody needs a little JFC, right?