Talking dirty

Ah, gentle readers, prepare thyselves. This is not a story for the faint of heart. Nor for the underage. Nay, I say unto you, continue reading at your peril.

Ahem.

My sister works at a mental health "halfway house." It is, frankly, as shitty a job as she could possibly have, but it pays the bills and is helping her save up some cash for her imminent return to the U.K. Sis is a remarkably normal person, at least in my view. We'll get into a philosophical discussion on the definition of "normal" some other day. I consider her to be a lovely human being, and so should you. Many of her co-workers at said institution, however, defy conventions of "normalcy," blurring the lines between what is socially acceptable and what is, shall we say, creepy. Or gross. In this case, I think "gross" is as apt a word as any.

It has recently surfaced that one of the counsellors has been viewing pornographic websites on the company computer at night. As in, while everyone else in the house is sleeping, this guy has been... uh... enjoying himself. Literally. The company, however, cannot fire him without meeting a sufficient burden of proof. That means that each day, someone has to go on the computer's history and print it out. Today, however, the printer apparently wasn't functioning. Meaning that my sister, my sweet, innocent, normal sister, had to read the listing of websites out loud over the phone to her boss. Let's just take one moment to ponder some of the options here:

"At 4:25 a.m. a site called giganticgonads dot com was accessed. At 4:42 he moved onto lusciousboobies. Next was a site named hotkittymonkeylove."

Way to go, sketchy co-worker. Way to go.