a newer one »Stymied.

Casual cursing

Crap. Darn! Rats. Bah. Curses!

Words I say now in frustration.

But it wasn't always so.

Before I met Guy, I had developed quite the sailor's mouth. Or, as Kris would later ask, "You kiss your momma with that mouth?" A plethora of fuck, damn, shit, god damn it, mother fucker, asshole, dick would sputter from my lips as often as "like" comes from any Valley girl's mouth.

And that was, like, so uncool.

Guy was the first to ask me to rein it in. And I did pretty well.

Until we broke up.

And the flood gates opened.

Despite that flow of words, Kris still dated me (may wonders never cease). But, he, too, asked me to stop with the foul language. "It's unattractive," he said.

Follow up that request (okay, those many requests) with two young nephews and many friends' children, and well, it was time to turn off the cursing spigot.

For the most part, I have. I see little point in having curse words run from my mouth like verbal diarrhea.

I've recently run into a woman who talks as I used to talk, curse words all over the place. They lose their impact when there are so many of them. They blur together and lose their shock value.

But not for me.

Well, shucky darn, when I curse now, I mean it.