I made the mistake of hitting a link to an online costume shop, and it was on the verge of being unsafe for work.
If a co-worker had walked by at that time, I might’ve earned a trip to the human resources office.
But I would’ve argued the link said “Halloween,” so I was expecting blood and guts, not a tarted-up Princess Leia.
It really wasn’t that bad, as far as scantily clad rebel leaders go, and it’s nothing you haven’t seen on primetime television.
I’m sure the costume would’ve been approved for any of the ladies on “Big Bang Theory.” They did a Catholic school girl episode a few years ago, and that costume was far racier than the one I saw.
So maybe it wasn’t the costume, but my reaction that was not safe for work. Do you remember the old-school cartoons? When the male character’s eyes telescoped out at the sight of Bugs Bunny in a dress?
My eyes weren’t out that long because I quickly shut the window and scanned behind me to make sure I was safe.
I still feel kind of guilty about it, which is why I’m sharing with you. Confession’s good for the soul, and in the 21st century, confessions don’t count unless they’re exposed in the big, wide open.
I’m coming to you and my wife for public absolution. She’ll feel better about the – let’s not call it an “affair,” but a “situation” – if I sprinkle in a few jokes.
If she’s read this far, she’s probably wondering, What’s the big deal about a tawdry Princess Leia?
That brings up another point about modern-day, out-loud confessions. It’s not enough to say you’ve done something less than admirable. You have to figure out precisely why you did it.
The answer’s simple: I’ve had a crush on Princess Leia since third grade, when she and those croissants on her head appeared on my favorite “Star Wars” bubblegum card.
There was something special about that woman, even if I had no idea what that something could be – again, third grade.
Carrie Fisher portrayed Princess Leia. In later years, she wrote a fictionalized account of her life called “Postcards from the Edge.”
Meryl Streep starred as Fisher’s alter ego in the film version, and Streep has never been more lovely, even when hanging from a fake window in an unflattering police uniform.
It must’ve been the transitive property of The Force that wove through my third-grade self before getting to me.
I’m sure that explains what happened on the computer at work. Whatever guilt I felt from seeing a hotsy-totsy vision of Princess Leia probably had a lot in common with the secret guilt I’d felt three-and-a-half decades ago, when I had that magnificent woman on the bubblegum card all to myself with absolutely no idea what to do with her.
M. Scott Morris is a Daily Journal feature writer. Contact him at (662) 678-1589 or email@example.com.