Everyone strives (I think) to be the very best person possible. I know I do. Which is why this post if about my worst fault (besides the fact that I'm a control freak, slightly OC, and well anyway).....my language.
If you have actually spoken to me, you know where this is going. Yes I married a sailor, however that does not excuse my potty mouth. I have no idea where it came from, my mom's favorite cuss word growing up was "clean", maybe it was my oh so southern grandmother with pearls, who named her dog, "Damnit". Yeah, we'll blame her, although people she is the only reason I know how to use makeup! She rocks the pearls.
However, not sure if I've shared this with you or not, but it highlights my point. I use the F-bomb more than the crustiest sailor of old times. It's an adjective, a noun (get your mind out of that gutter!) and if possible a participle too.
Like the time when we moved here, to this snowy mountainy place where people are more gentile and very religious (not my religion but hey, I'm not bothered by that, just DO NOT knock on my door) so you can imagine their suprise when during the busiest time in Wal-Mart grocery shopping I drop an F-bomb and people, I cleared the aisle. It was like watching a fire evacuation of a large discount store. Buggies full of children and shocked mothers flew off that aisle in mere seconds. The Man tells me I have a gift. In my defense, The Man DID run over my foot with said buggy before I dropped the fire bomb that was the F-word.
This is also strange cause I'm a person who can't say certain things without blushing. Very strange. My poor poor OB-GYN, I spend more time stammering out answers and trying to sink throught the floor than actually getting an exam over with. It's pathetic I tell you.
But I have no known problem with the F word.
I used it at my mom's wedding. Yes, I'm classy. While putting on my matron of honor dress, then having my dear sweet aunt tell me that panty lines don't work so "get in there and hand them out" WHOA! Upon attempting to do all of this and hurry, I headbutted the wall, hence the F-bomb flew out and the ENTIRE dressing area of the CHURCH we were in went deadly silence. I heard my aunt sigh deeply, so deeply I heard her back pop, and then just reached in for my ....well undergarments. They know me, they love me anyway, I'm so blessed.
So today I should not have been surprised when I once again let that baby fly. And fly it did. Why you ask? I walked into a glass door, while carrying my lunch and am still I'm sure wearing pieces of it in my hair. Apparently I can't walk and talk at the same time. Green key lime yogurt doesn't accessorize well either. And apparently 300 people in a crowded cafeteria have never heard the f-word.
People, I just keep outdoing myself.
