Being a Potty Mouth
Nov. 2nd, 2013 12:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kybearfuzzI was reading Wikipedia's entry on "South Park" earlier this morning. I do that sometimes. Not specifically the "South Park" page, but often I'll pick something at random on Wikipedia and take a spin through it. I did similar things as a kid with encyclopedia volumes, just grab a volume and flip through it. I got to the section of the entry regarding how the four main characters often use profanity amongst themselves. The show's creators say that it demonstrates how little kids talk to each other when there are no grown-ups around.
There is a lot of truth in that. When the twin and I were about that age, we were experimenting with cursing. Both of our parents cursed in their usual banter, but moreso when they were angry or excited. Neither of them ever said the "f-word" that I can recall as a kid, but everything else was fair game. Even Mom and Dad had a limit I guess.
As kids, the twin and I would "trade" cuss words, meaning "if you say one, I'll say one." It was an interesting situation, as by each vocalizing the word, we put ourselves on a level playing field. The twin couldn't turn me in, as I could turn him in, and then we'd both be in trouble. So we threw out the occasional "shit" followed by a "hell" or a "damn." Then we'd giggle at the naughty we'd just done.
Once, the twin turned me in for saying the "f-word." It was written in orange crayon, followed by the familiar "YOU" in HUGE letters above the bathroom urinal wall at school. And honestly, I had no idea what it meant. One day, the twin irritated me to the point of yelling, where I belted out "F#@K YOU!" at him. Stunned, he threw his hands over his mouth like he'd witnessed something horrible, and then proceeded to run to Mom to tell on me. Little shit thought he had me good, but I confessed truthfully to Mom that I had no idea what it meant. I didn't get in trouble, as she believed me. She warned me not to say it again, but refused to tell me what it referred to.
Later, in junior high school, I let my filthy mouth roam free. Being a kid, I realized that it garnered me attention, so I used it among the students when the teachers weren't around. One day I lamented profanely about leaving my bubble gum at home. A nearby student, a better-than-you teenager named Becky, told me that she hoped that I died in my sleep that night so I would go straight to Hell, because that's where people who used that language would go. I was bad for using curse words, but Becky was being a good Christian by telling me that she hoped I'd died soon.
Becky always was a bitch.
However, that moment did strike a chord with me and I toned down the language for more practical uses, like arguments and storytelling. When I went to college, I kept my mouth in check because of my born-again Christian roommate, moreso out of respect for him and not because of my memory of Bitch Becky, who could douche with Drano for all I cared.
As I've gotten older, I guess I've gotten crankier. At work, when something that is so simple goes so wrong, I find myself tossing the "f-word" around when among my familiar co-workers. It's not the most professional talk I could use, but the word often conveys a feeling that many other words just cannot match.
However, I am trying to use the language less frequently, especially in a professional setting, as its appropriateness isn't always there. I said less frequently, because I certainly don't believe in turning it off completely. The words definitely have their place and sometimes you can't help but need that vocabulary.
There is something about a good, old fashioned "F#@K YOU!" that just sends the needed message in a split second, especially when you haven't the opportunity to add gestures.
There is a lot of truth in that. When the twin and I were about that age, we were experimenting with cursing. Both of our parents cursed in their usual banter, but moreso when they were angry or excited. Neither of them ever said the "f-word" that I can recall as a kid, but everything else was fair game. Even Mom and Dad had a limit I guess.
As kids, the twin and I would "trade" cuss words, meaning "if you say one, I'll say one." It was an interesting situation, as by each vocalizing the word, we put ourselves on a level playing field. The twin couldn't turn me in, as I could turn him in, and then we'd both be in trouble. So we threw out the occasional "shit" followed by a "hell" or a "damn." Then we'd giggle at the naughty we'd just done.
Once, the twin turned me in for saying the "f-word." It was written in orange crayon, followed by the familiar "YOU" in HUGE letters above the bathroom urinal wall at school. And honestly, I had no idea what it meant. One day, the twin irritated me to the point of yelling, where I belted out "F#@K YOU!" at him. Stunned, he threw his hands over his mouth like he'd witnessed something horrible, and then proceeded to run to Mom to tell on me. Little shit thought he had me good, but I confessed truthfully to Mom that I had no idea what it meant. I didn't get in trouble, as she believed me. She warned me not to say it again, but refused to tell me what it referred to.
Later, in junior high school, I let my filthy mouth roam free. Being a kid, I realized that it garnered me attention, so I used it among the students when the teachers weren't around. One day I lamented profanely about leaving my bubble gum at home. A nearby student, a better-than-you teenager named Becky, told me that she hoped that I died in my sleep that night so I would go straight to Hell, because that's where people who used that language would go. I was bad for using curse words, but Becky was being a good Christian by telling me that she hoped I'd died soon.
Becky always was a bitch.
However, that moment did strike a chord with me and I toned down the language for more practical uses, like arguments and storytelling. When I went to college, I kept my mouth in check because of my born-again Christian roommate, moreso out of respect for him and not because of my memory of Bitch Becky, who could douche with Drano for all I cared.
As I've gotten older, I guess I've gotten crankier. At work, when something that is so simple goes so wrong, I find myself tossing the "f-word" around when among my familiar co-workers. It's not the most professional talk I could use, but the word often conveys a feeling that many other words just cannot match.
However, I am trying to use the language less frequently, especially in a professional setting, as its appropriateness isn't always there. I said less frequently, because I certainly don't believe in turning it off completely. The words definitely have their place and sometimes you can't help but need that vocabulary.
There is something about a good, old fashioned "F#@K YOU!" that just sends the needed message in a split second, especially when you haven't the opportunity to add gestures.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-11-02 05:12 pm (UTC)Profanity ... #212 on the list of why I miss the theater:) Growing up, I didn't curse. My parents didn't and it wasn't acceptable, even when they weren't around. However, I grew up and began performing. I am a huge potty mouth in a theatre setting, around other singers and dancers. You're right. There is something so satisfying about using the word f**k. It rolls so splendidly off the tongue. Tim and I sometimes I trade insults, trying to be as filthy as possible in our language. It's great fun, but he always wins, because I won't use the C word and he knows it:)
During my interview for my new job, I was warned by the HR manager that people cursed in the office to relieve stress. I assured her that there was nothing I hadn't heard or seen and I would not be offended.
Remember ... F**k* used as an adjective can be extremely flattering - as in Mark, you are f**king hot! LOL!
no subject
Date: 2013-11-03 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-03 02:12 am (UTC)Saying "Aw, Fuck!" when something goes awry is natural for a lot of people.
I didn't know any swear words until 8th grade, and then little Jerry became "ULTRA-POTTY MOUTH LAD!"
Now I try NOT to say the F word in front of my mom, and I succeed most of the time.
But I do curse a lot.
I've been around a lot of blue collar folks through out my life. They curse, oh man, do they ever!
But I work at NOT cursing in front of women and children. I draw the line there.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-03 02:40 am (UTC)I guffawed at that.... ;-)
My Dad swore like a dockworker. Still does. Half the time it was in Slovak, which I picked up. My family thought that was kinda cute. My Dad never said "fuck" though...and I STILL remember when I used that word in front of neighborhood friend who told my Mom. She hit the roof and I was certain I was headed for Hell. Many years later, working on my car with my Dad, around 1994, I think, we hit a snag and my Dad said "Damn Mart, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with this car. Oops, sorry, didn't mean to say that". To which I responded "That's OK Dad, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with it either." I was 29 years old and it was the first time I ever said "fuck" in the presence of my Dad.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-03 09:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-11-03 06:46 pm (UTC)Dropping f-bombs was not common to my experience until my university days. I dad may have used "goddam" quite a bit (My three-year-old sister once spontaneously used "hot damn" and all eyes turned accusingly to Dad), but we older kids were scrupulous about using G-rated language in the house...and it carried over into daily usage.
So profanity didn't raise its ugly head until my late teens, and has corrupted me ever since.
no subject
Date: 2013-11-04 04:13 pm (UTC)