My sense of humor has sometimes been viewed as over the proverbial "line." I think I have that same impulse control mechanism malfunction that Sophia from The Golden Girls had. I think I've just always appreciated a good funny, even if it is a little inappropriate. (Especially if it's a little inappropriate)

When I was in Junior high, I think grade 9, a bunch of us were hanging out outside the school smoking and being "cool." I really can't remember why the vice principal, Mr. Scar, called me aside to lecture me on my sense of humor being inappropriate, but I'm sure he had good reason. After the "good firm talking to," he walked with me back toward my friends and, with one hand on his hip, began to address the crowd. "Okay, people! The school day is over. Let's go home!" So I, being the witty, charming, teen-aged idiot that I was, linked my arm through his, strutted beside him, and said, "Okay, Scar, let's go home!"

Mr. Scar shook me off his arm, his face instantly beet red. "That's exactly what I was talking about with inappropriate humor!" he barked, exasperated.

I can't blame the guy. I mean, hello, talk about displaying zero regard for a member of the administration, especially while he's asserting himself to a group of teen-agers. Somehow, however obvious that may seem to me now and about a tenth of a second after saying it, I still blurted it out! I didn't even call him "Mr. Scar." It was just "Scar." That's just disrespectful!

Poor bastard.