Warning: This post contains several ‘bad’ words… If you are prudishly sensitive or otherwise just live under a rock, my advice to you is to skip it! If you choose to read it, find yourself offended, and then feel the need to send me hate mail… Please do! I so enjoy reading them!
For the rest of you…
Our Beasts have gone from being sweet lumps on the couch to masterful mimicking clowns. They observes everything we do, and everything we say. In other words… they are very influential right now. Which, well, is somewhat worrisome considering they have me for a mother and Big J for a father. So to avoid raising 2.0 versions of *cough* ourselves… Big J and I have embarked on the daunting task of potty training our filthy mouths.
I, Red Whino, do solemnly swear… ummm, not to swear! Is that an oxymoron?!?
I never realized just how often I drop the F-bomb… until it came time to stop! It’s second nature for me. You see, I am fluently educated in 4 languages… English, French, Sarcasm, and Swearing. For me, it takes so much pre-emptive thought just to string together a child-proof sentence that sometimes it’s easier to just say nothing at all.
I hesitate to ask Big J how his day was… because how does one describe a day at the office without a pint-size ‘f*ck’? And he certainly won’t ask me how my day was… because how does one spend a day with a threesome of babbling monkeys without a keg sized ‘f*ck’? So while our our Beasts are around, Big J and I basically just stare at one another like a pair of stunned blowfish. Because without swear words, what we’ve got here is failure to communicate!
I mean seriously, how does one effectively express themselves otherwise? ‘Poopie pants’ and ‘meanie head’ just don’t cut it. And I refuse to become one of those douche bags who use ‘friggin’… Ugh! So friggin’ lame, right?
But alas, Big J and I have pledged to clean-up our daytime red neck potty-mouths… If only for the sake of our sweet savage children, of course. Also, and more importantly, for the sake of my reputation. ‘Cause if I’m anything… I’m one classy lady!
But when our little monkeys go to bed? Ah, well, the gloves come off… Big J and I get our f*ck on!
Together, in perfect synchronized harmony, we f*ck! It’s like we’re newlyweds all over again… f*cking as much as possible. Ahhh, the sweet language of love.
And when it’s time for Mommy and Daddy to go to bed, we snuggle up and succumb to our sweet f*cking dreams, knowing we’ll wake up on mute for yet another day of responsible-parenting.
Really it’s the best f*cking we’ve had in a long time… and we didn’t even have to get under the covers to enjoy it!
You are f*cking hilarious. Just wait a couple of years until he hits the playground. He’ll teach you some new ones!
THANK YOU for not saying I am “friggin” hilarious… cause that would just be too douchy!
And I hear ya’ about the playground years to come… Sometimes think I should have just stuck to dogs… 😉
I can’t friggin’ help it. I’m from the east coast. It’s comes frigging naturally. You’re the douch, ya big poopie head.
Well, OK. Because East Coasters are so friggin’ cool… I’ll give you a pass, you Douche Bag!!!
I can’t help using “friggin'”…..I’m a Joisey girl and a classy broad at that. But, alas….(yeah I use that all the time too…AND “anon”, “missive” and many other archaic words like that). Besides, it’s impossible for me to remain mute all day and I can’t drop the f bomb every time something goes south in my day to day!! I can’t WAIT till your Little Orange Crush can actually string words together…THAT is going to be a show of show!! xxxxj
OK. I won’t stereotype you as one of those Friggin’ Douche Bag People… but only because you’re cool like me with your use of archaic language! 🙂