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.
