Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Ode to the eff word


I love the eff word. Love it love it love it. It popped into my head this morning when I read a comment posted by the Illustrious and Obviously Brave anonymous person who called me spinny and huffed about my posting on shaking things up.

Eff you, I thought, and eff you and eff you. Only when I say it in my head it has the proper spelling and harsh consonants and impeccable pronunciation like when you're really mad and the word just flies out all tight and 'ck's.

You know, like if you said "duck" really, really clear. Duck you, I thought, you anonymous blog commenter, lurking around with your anonymous moody insights. All witty and whatnot.

If you're reading this, my anonymous poster, my witty friend, be aware that this is more of what I spoke of in my Reply to you; more of that "tongue in cheek." I hope that the interweb was kind and you were able to find a web definition on the fly. Good luck with that.

It must be my service industry background, my affinity for the foul. The crude. Since I had the kids I've tried (in vain) to tone it down. For about a day I substituted, flip and such. It sent shivers down my spine, how bad it felt. Weak.

Then I tried nothing at all, but it was like I kept it all inside and then it would rise up like a volcano and spew forth, at very inopportune moments.

It's fairly obvious that my poor children have heard the profanities come from my mouth. Upon return from a lovely wedding I asked my mother, the babysitter, how it had gone. She told the story of how Stella explained that the princess doesn't say duck (substitute at your own discretion; she didn't) because then the prince won't marry her. Nice.

Ah, life could be worse, right? A few eff bombs here and there might make the world a spicier place.


Anonymous said...

Amen, sister! The world needs a little more "effing!"

lotusloq said...

Ah! Well, my southern sensibilities bristle at that word. It was so weird to me when we lived in Pittsburgh to hear so much more cussing than I grew up with. It's such a cultural thing. It would shock me how freely all these words that had been tabu my whole life were thrown around like it was nothing. Things are a lot looser these days, but I still can't bring myself to say that word--even in print.

You may not believe me, but I have never heard either one of my parents say it ever--even going out from there to aunts and uncles (whose language was sometimes fairly salty) I can't remember ever hearing it. I wouldn't be surprised if the men used it amongst themselves, but it was never used in mixed company. It would have been disrespecting women. So what do you think of that?

In fact, as I think about it, I have been combing my memories and I can't recall a single time I ever heard my father cuss--not just the big bad words but even the little ones and he was in the army for many years. Pretty amazing when you think about it. All the time he got angry or frustrated or whatever. (My mother is a different story.) Haha!

I feel so sheltered. --wow, my comment got a little carried away! eh?

spinregina said...

oh Lois, I had a feeling you wouldn't like this one. I'm still a good person, it's just I have a bit of a potty mouth. I like that you even say cussing, it's sweet. and believe, me, these words were (are) mighty taboo in my family...when my mum got really angry she would say "" and then storm off and slam the door to her room. that was the worst of it.

I can see the old fashioned sweetness of the respect thing. it's so different, in my house, it's me with the trucker mouth, and him giving me the gears over it.

I have a good friend whose mother is Irish and peppers her conversation with all sorts of salt. (I mixed that metaphor on purpose, I'm so sneaky). it's almost as though you don't hear the words, they are so natural to the way she talks...maybe that's how we are Up Here in Canada. I doubt it, but here's trying to pass that one off...

lotusloq said...

I still think you're good. I promise I won't hold it against you.

spinregina said...

whew. I knew you had a good heart!