I always find myself in social situations where people are near me on Bluetooth. They’re always staring right into my eyes talking and I, being the kind, compassionate, friendly (o.k. maybe not compassionate) person that I am attempt to return the conversation ONLY to be humiliated. Oftentimes they even find it humorous. Today, however, I pointed it out to my daughter when a lady was beside us in traffic seemingly talking to herself. My sixteen year old days, “Mom, why is that weird to you?”. Then I realized she’s grown up with it being the norm. It’s a lot different than the Zack Morris phones of my years to people appearing to be schizophrenic in their cars. I guess I will tell my grandkids one day that I walked to school up hill, both ways, in the snow, barefoot, taking to myself.
You know… I really love my family.. I love my husband and my children, and while we are on the subject, I love God. But I REALLY love to drop the “f” bomb when I’m needing an intense adjective, a pissed off noun, or the occasional verb. Somehow, no matter how many full ride college educations to Harvard I can pay for out of the swear jar, I simply can not dispose of this word. Fuck it.