Ever notice that you say “f*ck” a lot when you’re manic?
Well, maybe YOU don’t, but I do, even though I’m not manic at this moment in time. Now it’s just because I’m around too many people who say it a lot, and they’re a bad influence on me. HA!
The F bomb and I have had a long, troubled, and yet somewhat interesting history. Perhaps it’s because I grew up in a time when it was THE ultimate profanity….they simply didn’t have worse swear words in those days. (Or so I thought…..I know better now.) Later on in life, it was the one I always saved for the end of the argument: “Yeah? Well, go f*ck yourself and the horse you rode in on!”
My kids’ generation, on the other hand, uses it almost as a greeting: “Hey dude, wanna skate? F*ck yeah!” Or they step in a pile of cat barf in the middle of the night and yell “whaF*CK!?” rather than inquiring of themselves, “Whatever could this cold, squishy substance between my toes be?”
I’m kidding about that last part. The last time I stepped in an emesis of the feline variety, I hurled several F bombs as I hopped into the bathroom on one foot, gagging and retching as I went. Being a nurse, I’ve obviously had to develop a cast-iron stomach—I can handle almost any kind of blood, gore, bodily fluids and organs—but cat barf is my Kryptonite, so I was doing the best I could to hang onto my guts and I figured I could be forgiven the use of a few of “that” word.
Unfortunately, when I’m around people who use it a LOT, I get into a bad habit of regarding it almost as casually as any other salty language, and then I feel guilty because it really sounds awful, especially coming from a woman. (Yes, I’m old enough to remember when women were supposed to have a little more class than the average longshoreman. Not that I’ve ever been accused of being a lady, but……) To be honest, however, there are times when no other word will suffice:
Like when you drop a can of stewed tomatoes on your bare toes (“F******CK!!”). Or when you’re astounded by something you see or hear (“Well, f*ck me running!”). Or when you’re in a realm of pissed-off you’ve never been before (“You can go take a flying f*ck at a rolling donut!” I leave it to the reader’s imagination to formulate THAT mental picture). Or even when you’re merely confused (“WTF?!”).
My youngest son used to get his siblings in trouble for using the word, all the while getting to say it several times himself. “Mooooom, Amanda said ‘F*ck’! You told her she’s not s’posed to say ‘F*ck’, and she just said ‘F*ck’ to Jimmy Torres!” If the kid hadn’t been so damned cute he’d never have gotten away with it, but when this stuff is coming out of a four-year-old you can’t help a few muffled snickers.
My sister, by contrast, loathes the F bomb, and has used it herself on only three momentous occasions that I’m aware of. I have to curb myself around her because she IS a lady—she uses “shit” as a multipurpose word to describe pretty much everything—and I usually wind up apologizing profusely for letting it slip. Except, of course, when I’m on one of those “natural highs” of mine, and then ALL bets are off…..I unleash that sucker for any reason I want, wherever I want, as often as I want, and in front of whomever I want.
“What the f*ck are you doing?!” “Ah, go f*ck a duck.” “F*ck this shit, I’m going home.” “How the f*ck are you going to manage THAT?” “I don’t give a f*ck.” “F*ckin’ A!” “Get the f*ck outta here.” And the ever-popular “By gum, you f*ckers, I WON!!”, which was the first thing out of my face when I found out I’d been granted unemployment benefits after having to fight my former employer tooth and nail to get ’em to pay up. Yee-HAW!!
At any rate, you can always tell how jacked-up I am by the number of times I use the F word in a given day—and sometimes, even in a given paragraph. Not that I’m jacked-up right now…. come on, people, those were just examples…….well, F ya if ya can’t take a joke!! 😉