If you've ever asked yourself why I cuss like a fuckin’ sailor, today is your lucky day! I have always had a dirty mouth of sorts due in part to HBO. We had it ever since it was available on Time Warner which was when I was at the highly impressionable, ripe old age of 8. I used to put my karaoke machine up in my open bedroom window, duck down and yell cuss words that I had learned into the microphone. They would echo throughout our conservative neighborhood and no one knew where the booming blasphemy was coming from, it was fucking awesome! But my "trash mouth," as my mom calls it, started well before HBO had flourished.
I was not brought up by four older brothers, nope not me, but Katy my best friend since Kindergarten Round Up was. Not that she was "brought up" by them, they were not a pack of wolves. But she was the youngest of five and the first four were dudes. Anyhoo, I think that's where I was first exposed to the vocabulary I have grown accustom to and quite found of. I find that my foul langauge pretty much work it's way into any sentence except, "And that's why I'd be the best candidate for this position" and "Forgive me Father for I have sinned" (I'm not Catholic so I have never said that anyway.)
I specifically recall an early happenstance in which I learned the power and freedom of my untapped arsenal of curse words. Let me take you back to the first grade... where I was robbed of my innocence (displayed above.) It was Field Day, that in and of itself is reason enough for
any level-headed 6 year old to awake and scream "Shit yeah" before they leggo their Eggo, but it wasn't until after I had tightened the drawstring on my Umbros and tucked in my adult medium, Mini Mouse t-shirt that I pulled out the big guns that day.
My best friend Katy and I had been chosen to hold the big giant double doors in the first grade pod so the other kids could shuffle their little Reebok Pumps on through with ease. Why I felt it was better to hold the door for people rather than have it held for me is absolutely astonishing to me now, but I wasn’t the only one that vied for this righteous door-holding position at that point in life. Katy and I proudly sauntered out the classroom door and through the coat wracks to take our powerful positions, each of us propping our tiny bodies against the honorable, heavy wooden doors. We waited, and waited and there was no pitter patter of annoying first grader feet in the distance. We waited for like 10 minutes which is an hour in kid time. I deemed it necessary to take this time to have a very serious discussion with my best friend. I asked Katy if she ever cusses when she’s by herself to which she answered “yes” with a guilt stricken look on her little freckled face.
“Do you ever use the S-H word? That’s my favorite,” I whispered.
"You mean shit?” she whispered back.
“Shit.” I reply as my vocals come up to a three-inch voice, verifying the meaning of ‘S-H’ with a nod.
Katy looks both ways down the long hallway for oncoming midget traffic “Shit,” she says matching my decibels.
“Shit,” I reply, hoisting my Umbros. “Shit,” the volume of my voice getting progressively louder, in cahoots with my confidence.
“Shit,” Katy competes, throwing her hands over her pie hole in an effort to control her loud, contagious laughter. Katy was a competitor and I knew this, and I knew what I was up against since she had the four older brothers and was two-and-a-half months my senior.
At this point my laughter was out of control yet I manage to get another lob over the net, “SHIT!” I belt out down the long, empty hallway with impressive acoustics, the echo driving me into a frenzy. “Oh shit!” I said, it was evident I was no longer playing the game. “Oh shit, Katy! I just peed a little.”
“Me too!” Katy managed to get out between bouts of laughter “Shit, me too!”
Game over. Slowly we walk away from our posts towards the nurses office, our Umbros dampened, confidence a blazin’, large doors slowly and theatrically closing behind us. Laughing all the way to the nurses office, I turn to Katy just before we enter, shrug my shoulders and say, “At least we didn’t fuckin' shit ourselves.”
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