This week: Stop swearing. Again.
It’s fucking time. Goddamn.
Since then, I’ve been able to convince myself that my swearing isn’t a fucking problem. All was well in my state of denial until I went to the damn grocery store yesterday.
As I was picking out bell peppers, a lovely granny tapped me on the shoulder and asked for help selecting two cucumbers. They always place those bitches on the top shelf of the refrigerated case at my local store.
We exchanged names. We made small talk. I learned that Jan recently broke three of her motherfucking toes while watching her seven grandchildren during the long Labor Day weekend. Her two sons and their wives were in Cancun. She broke her toes on Day Two of the four-day trip. Like a badass, she went to the doctor, got her toes X-rayed and taped, and kept right on watchin’ those kids. I think Jan may be a fucking saint.
After I reached up and got the cucumbers, Jan asked how much they were. She left her glasses at home and couldn’t see the sign. Broken toes AND blind. She was a hot mess. I liked her.
Me: Holy shit, these assholes are $1.99….EACH!!
Jan: Excuse me, young lady, what did you say?
Me: These bitches cost $1.99! They must have crack in ’em.
Jan walked away, leaving me with two very expensive cucumbers possibly laced with drugs or diamond dust. Yeah, shit got real.
I thought she decided against the vegetables because they were so spendy, but Harv says it was because my unladylike language offended Jan. Of course, my natural response was to claim that there was “nothing un-fucking-ladylike about me, motherfucker.”
I have carpool duty this Wednesday. This is probably a very timely Monday Dare. I care about young people a shitload, and I’m going to do my best not to fuck them up with my damn swearing.
P.S. Thank you for letting me get it out of my system right now.
Ever caught yourself swearing at an inopportune time?
image via pinterest