Keep your @#%^$ mouth shut!
Queenie reads my blog.
Since this is the age where a potential employer, mate, or friend can google you and see if you are what you say you are, I try not to use this as a forum to bitch and moan. I never really thought anyone but my sister, the Mister, my kids along with an occasional wrong click would lead readers to my humble spot in cyber space. Sleeping Beauty promotes her blog everywhere, so I should have seen it coming when she dropped the bomb that not only does Queenie read my blog, she bookmarked it for future perusal.
Ay yi yi!
I don’t apologize. (An aside: during her hospital stay, Queenie gave me permission to curse in her presence. Yes, she was delirious, but I will stand by this when the occasional damn slips out. ) I’m articulate and when need be, can hold my own with the best. I’ve given presentations, led classes, took three speech classes, and can telemarket like nobodies business. Look at the blog’s subtitle (where f*ckery is free and plentiful) and you know that this is rated PG16 for language.
I have gotten complaints from the kids. The Boy called Donkey Kong a bastard the last time he played Mario Kart, and I’ve heard the Teen refer to someone as a ho. When I chastised them, they got all early eighties drug commercial “I learned it from youuu!“
I want my kids to emulate me, but not this way.
I have a girlfriend who shouts Jiminy Cricket when she gets mad, and has to be really angry to say damn. I think I should adjust my language accordingly. Euphemisms must now pepper my talk.*
*This goes out the window under these circumstances:
I’m out of coffee
I step on a Lego, matchbox, kinex .
The Teen’s report card .
The Boy’s school calls.
Someone messes with me.
Something happens to my family.
Something happens to Barack.
The cats bite my toes in the morning.
I try to run a lap at the track.
I’m in Down Dog and Fat Mittens walks underneath.
The Mister works my nerves.
I get out of bed.