I don't swear much. Well, I do, but it's just bottom drawer sort of swearing. Bloody this and Damn that. Oh for God's Sake! this and Bugger that. (What? WHAT??) This isn't to say that I mind it when other people swear—I don't mind a really boiling curse, as long as it is delivered at the appropriate time and with confidence.Confidence is the crux of my problem. When I swear, I feel like I do when I'm wearing a wide-brimmed red hat. Or enormous earrings. Or sunglasses with rhinestones. Or all at once! Imagine that. On someone else: charming; on me: ridiculous. When I swear, I feel like I'm on stage, delivering a line... badly. The timing is off. I feel like I have invisible finger quotes in spasm above my head.
I can't even manage it in writing. (And don't even suggest those censorious asterisks.) Lucky for you. You can send the kids here and feel quite safe—they're in good hands.
3 comments:
Better yet send the kids here, where they will be taught to swear with wild abandom. No wavering lack of confidence to be found on this Mama.
You would not *believe* the language you would hear in a Bay Street trading room. Not just the profanity, but the *volume*!
I always liked swearing, but now I'm even better: I swear with verve, authority, and confidence. It's nice to be able to lob the occasional f-bomb at the workplace without censoring myself. (I wanted to leave a humourous cuss word in Zoot's comments but was unsure how that would go over). I enjoy it, as a powerful spice in the linguistic kitchen.
However, dumping half a pound of paprika on your pork chops is way too much, and dropping the f-bomb in every sentence, as is often done in small town BC, is also too much.
You never did swear much, nor well. I am thinking to demand a paternity test.
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