I have an iPhone that sends me updates on my screen while it’s locked so I can decide if it’s worth unlocking the phone right then and there of if I should wait until a time when I’m not pretending to do something else. Usually I feel the buzz of the message on my butt cheek, fumble for the phone while trying not to drop whatever is in my hand, read the message and then slide it back into my too tight back pocket. Once, after checking it while I was driving, having to abruptly screech to a stop resulting in the top of my vente' cup of peppermint mocha exploding off and the contents spilling all over the floor of the car and me, I learned never to do to check while driving. Especially when, even after a very thorough cleaning by husband, my car floor turned into a science experiment on mushroom growth. To this day, despite Husband replacing the carpet, my car will occasionally smell like mint chocolate… ANYWAY - Yesterday, the phone buzzed while I was carrying my cup of tea. I carefully put it down before reaching for the phone in my back pocket. While turning to sit, I turned the phone right side up and read the message on the screen. And burst out laughing and promptly missed my chair resulting in an Abbott and Costello like comedy routine with the chair, the floor and me. Luckily the tea was safe on the desk.
My friend C that sent the message has always has a way with words and with timing. He has a fantastically deep voice and can drawl out a syllable, making it sound like liquid chocolate. He can insult you and you’ll thank him, he’s so eloquent with a phrase and snarky enough to use honey when he stings. C seldom needs to cuss because his special talent is the ability to turn any word into a curse word with tone, pace and intent. One summer he turned the word “fantastic” into a multi-layered insult that would instantly turn the cluster fuck we were in into a brilliant TV sitcom. My topic in this rambling post today - Cussing. I cuss a lot in my real life. I think it might be because I work with children and spend my much of my day trying to moderate my language. The end result is, my down time is like a pressure cooker released and I liberally pepper every sentence with words that would force my Grandmother to wash my mouth with soap. I also have a hard time getting my thoughts out and find, when I’m stuck in when speaking, a cuss word will fill the space in a way no “um…” cannot. But, when I write, I am so very aware of how crude a cuss word is and how much of a cop out it can be. I try not to use profanity or, when I do, I try to take the sting out of them with an * or **. But there are times a good “Fuck!” can really make a point. (Yes, I'm aware that without punctuation, that sentence would be a totally different statement!) Without use of the word ‘Fuck’, a word he never really uses, my text from C would have not resulted in a belly laugh that put me on the floor. So, however you choose to be profane, be it with curse words or, like C, with slow drawl, tone and intent, I may laugh but I will not judge. Well, at least I won’t judge out fucking loud. (Sorry Grandmother)
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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