Loser, Party of One…

Now that I am divorced and on my own, I’ve decided that my  “when the kids are grown up and gone”  travel plans shouldn’t be put to rest. When married, I wanted to do a “lighthouse tour,” starting in Nova Scotia, traveling along the eastern seaboard all the way to Key West, Florida. But, that was before my husband started driving like Mr. Magoo on crack.  I didn’t particularly want to die. http://dyingbraincells.wordpress.com/2010/07/22/mr-magoo-on-crack/ 

 So, we divorced. Not because of his driving, mind you, but you know. Anyway, I have always wanted to travel and I had to make a decision:  settle being an arm chair traveler, or embrace my independence and travel solo. I chose the latter. I’ve watched my children travel all over the world. My daughter flew to Paris, stayed in a hostel by herself and made new friends to sightsee with. My son does the same. But, you have to understand that these are different times.

No, I didn’t have to walk two miles to school every day with cardboard in my holey shoes. But, we never traveled. Sure, we went to Ocean City, Maryland during spring break. But, out of the country? Just to do it?  Uh, no.

But, I decided that just because I am alone now, doesn’t mean my dreams have to stop. On the contrary. I can travel without fear of being impaled by a mailbox when my husband would drive in the direction he is looking when he really should be paying attention to the road. No, this would be much better. And why in the world would I be lonely? I would be with me!

 So, our school system’s spring break is coming up and I decided to go somewhere. This past winter really did a number on me, and I just need to get out of Dodge. I’ve always wanted to travel across Canada by train, but I don’t have much time in April. Besides, I have a sixteen year old cat that I refuse to put in a kennel and my ex would rather stick a needle in his eye than offer to check on her. So, I decided to go somewhere for three nights. That would introduce me to solo travel. Now, you have to realize that I am also a woman in my mid-fifties, so I’m not looking to meet someone. My mom told me when I was getting a divorce  that “I was too old to get a divorce and I’d never find a man.” Um, thanks, Mom. Well, not looking for a man. I just want to get re-acquainted with myself. I think I will be a lot of fun.

 So, where to go on my first venture? Not telling. No, after the response I got from my daughter and ex-husband on my pick, I’ve decided not to tell anyone where I am going. My lunch bunch (fellow teachers) thought I would let them know for sure. Nope. They would just look at me like I had a third eye. My daughter guessed that I was going to an Indian reservation. I had to laugh at that. I told her it was a bit out there for a solo traveler, but I thought she was really thinking out side of the box. I have to give her a few points on that one.

 No, the only thing I mentioned on my facebook wall is that I booked a flight. I know in my heart that I will have a great time. My daughter thinks I will be lonely. Time will tell. I’m just excited that I finally got the nerve to do something instead of  just talking about places I would like to see.

 I think that the only hesitation I will find is when dinner time rolls around. I have a feeling that I will just eat on the run, so I won’t have to actually sit across from an empty chair. I really don’t care about that, but in a way I do. But, only because I talk so much. I guess I could talk to myself. People would then understand why I was by myself. But, all kidding aside, eating by myself or going to a movie by myself is not my cup of tea. But, I’m going to force myself to do it. I will never go to a movie by myself, but dinner, I will try once.

 I haven’t  flown in a plane since 1981, when we flew to Daytona Beach. I now have inner ear problems and hope that my head doesn’t explode because of the air pressure. I better chomp on some gum, that’s for sure. I won’t have a problem flying solo or staying at the resort by myself. I will be arriving late, and hope to make a bee line to swim in the pool. The next two days will be very busy. Again, not telling yet.

I will take some pictures and post them when I get there.

Wish me luck.

Well, That’s a Nice Gesture

My mom used to make hand gestures to communicate things she didn’t want us kids to know. I guess she thought we were stupid. I knew, even at an early age, that when talking about my grandmother,  she took her right index finger and made a small circle by her temple. That she meant grandma was crazy.

“Vickie, I didn’t say Grandma was crazy…….No I didn’t………I did nothing of the sort.”

Except that she did. When Grandma was right in front of her. I enjoyed calling my mom out when she did it. 

 I remember riding in the car with the family when we passed a guy who was hitchhiking. It made me wonder how sticking out your thumb meant that you wanted a ride. I thought that was pretty interesting. And it wasn’t stupid  to ask how people would hitchhike if they didn’t have a thumb.

“Vickie, that’s just stupid. People wouldn’t be able to hitchhike if they didn’t have a thumb. They’d have to make up a sign that said, Pittsburgh or something like that…….No, they wouldn’t use their pointing finger……And don’t you kids ever hitchhike when you get older………….Well, because people who hitchhike are dirty and stink and can’t afford their own car……Well,  your dad had to hitchhike because his car broke down in the middle of nowhere……………Vickie, I didn’t say your dad stinks………..No, I didn’t.”

   My mom went on to tell us how hitchhikers were first called hobos. They would travel and hitch a ride on freight trains before cars were invented.  So, Dad was basically a stinky hobo. But, hitchhiking is a interesting hand gesture.

See, no thumb. He must want to go that way.

 So, I got to thinking…What other hand gestures did my mom or friends use? Here are some that I come up with:

1. Quack Quack- When you take your right thumb and bring it up to meet the other fingers. This means that someone is going on and on and on.. sort of  like “Blah, Blah, Blah”. My mom used to make this one when company would stay a little too long for her liking. Since our tv was in the same room as the company, I had to endure the endless talking of Betty Edwards. Pretty soon, I would glance over to my mom, and she would be making the quacking gesture to me. I did it back to her one time. I thought that was pretty funny. Betty saw me and told my mom I was a very rude little girl. I was sent to my room. But, as soon as Betty  left, my mom took us out for an ice cream cone. Score.

2. Peek-a-Boo- Ok, this isn’t really a hand gesture, but it is in a way. I mention it only because when I was a teen-ager, I always wanted to know what would happen if after a couple times of smiling for the kid, that the next time you opened  your hands, you had a scary look on your face, monster like.  I just had to try it. And yes, it does confuse the baby into tears.

Um, kid. I'm supposed to be doing that.

3. Bunny Ears- I don’t know how many pictures are ruined because some smart alec has to put their two fingers up behind someone’s head.  The gesture, popular by mischievous boys wanting  to make somebody look stupid in a photograph,  preferably without their knowledge, makes no sense to me. That doesn’t make them look like a bunny. Well, unless they had misproportioned front teeth…. And the name, Bucky.

Formal function bunny ears

4. Thumb to the nose, wiggle fingers- I really don’t see this one used too much anymore. Just don’t use it on a cop. I think that’s all I will say about that. Well, except, don’t do it in New York, because it is truly against the law. I’m thinking cab drivers revolted or something.

A great way to garner votes

5. Thumbs up- This means things are great. Well, unless you don’t have a thumb. Then, things would suck. I read that the symbol, thumbs up, came about in gladiator times. The defeated guy would be at the mercy of the crowd. Thumbs up meant, “let him live,”  thumbs down meant, “Let the lions have a look at him.”  During World War II, pilots would give the thumbs up symbol when they were ready for take-off.  Just don’t  give the thumbs up in some countries in South America or some Middle East places. It’s an insult, so just don’t do it.  Or do it, and watch someone put their index finger across their throat. That’s another  hand gesture you don’t want to see. I mean, that might make me run in the other direction.

The Fonz.. king of the "Thumbs Up"

6. Loser- This hand gesture is modern, meaning before I became old and “not with it.”  You just basically put your thumb and index finger up to your forehead, making an “L” for loser. It means you’re a loser. I made my daughter laugh a couple of years ago, when beating her at Scrabble, put three finger up on my forehead. “What are you doing, Mom?”  I told her she was a weirdo. And then added, like I was a Grandma getting ready to skydive for the first time, “Isn’t that what you kids do, nowadays?” When she explained that it was “L for Loser” and not “W for weirdo”, I really begged to differ.  Weirdo’s are losers. and losers are weirdo’s. Semantics.

Learning early. Next up, cursing like a sailor

7.  Can I have your numba?- Call me. Put your thumb on your ear (or in it if you are stupid) and your pinky down by your lips. It takes longer for me to put my other fingers down and put the two up to my ear than just saying,  “Call me.” Not a fan of this one.  Arthritic people beware.

8. Pretend, i’m going to pick my nose- Put your index finger near the opening of your nose and make a back and forth motion like you are getting ready to go up the nose..Means you’re stupid or did something stupid. Which just makes the person making the gesture look stupid, and boogered.  Years ago, this meant that the person was “retarded,” but not literally.

Ok, don't really do it, Elizabeth...

9. High Five- When you slap someone with your palm of the hand agains their palm of the hand, that means things are going great. People tend to jump up in the air a bit when they do a high five. I give my kids a high five when they make a hundred percent on a test. I’m not enthusiastic enough to jump, though. I’m on my feet enough.

High fiving is a big harey deal for rabbits.

10. Flippin the bird- This is not a nice gesture. I remember one time Olympic gymnast Mary Lou Retton’s mom flipped me the bird when I honked at her for sitting way too long after the light turned green. I laughed and it made her even more mad. And she did it again, this time with words coming out of her mouth. I wonder what she would have done if I actually hit her from behind. I would be a dead woman.

11. Hand around an invisible neck- I’ve murdered my ex-husband in this fashion many, many times while I was married.

Or I guess you could buy a boa constrictor.

12. Slow down, cops are waiting for you- Everyone has done this. Or is it just me?  It’s a warning system to oncoming cars that there is a cop or an accident up ahead.  With your left hand on the wheel (because that would be nice), take your other hand, fingers together, and make your hand go down  and up several times. Or I guess you could just flash your lights. Whatever. 

13. Peace sign- My daughter lived in Japan for a year and every picture that she took had someone giving the peace sign. Of course, it really comes from World War II…V for victory. So, I guess if you were victorious, you would be at peace.

 Well, after I watched my mom, I guess I grew up to use hand gestures too. I guess everyone does. I like to use the “I’m watching you” sign at school. Especially when I see them cheating. Which some do every chance they get.

As I walk my students down the hall, and pass another teacher, I sometimes nonchalantly put my index finger to my temple and pull the trigger. Other times, I hang myself. Just depends on what kind of day I have had. I usually end the day killing myself in some fashion.

In the end, hand gestures are part of everyone’s culture. Some signals are obvious. Some are not.

And it has horns?....Little rabbit foo foo?

A Real Nail Biter

Image via Wikipedia

I felt eight years old again this past weekend when I watched a woman in Walmart try to pick up small cans of cat food with her long fingernails. I strolled past her down the aisle, and hung around, watching her. The little Vickie child inside me wanted to ask her some questions, mainly, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

A real nail biter

 Why in the world do women grow their fingernails so long? What does it accomplish?  This lady, from Salt Lake City, Utah, was on record with Guinness Book of World Records as having the longest fingernails. The longest, on her thumb, measured 2 feet and 11 inches. So much for picking your nose. Maybe that’s where the phrase, “picking your brain” came to be. Well, this lady was in a car accident where she was a passenger (thank God) and her fingernails were “damaged beyond repair.” (thank God) How in the world would you take care of yourself ?  Like going to the bathroom?  I bet no one ever asked her to spread suntan lotion on their back.

When I was little, I would walk across the street from my dad’s real estate office to a place called Mom’s Lunch. It was a diner and it’s where my love of hamburgers and french fries all began. Well, Liz was a waitress at Mom’s. She had very long fingernails. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her hands as she wiped down counters and laid down plates of food. In fact, I can’t really picture her face, but I can see her hands. She wore hot pink fingernail polish, and most of her fingers were clad in silver rings. She was styling  in 1963.

I was sitting at the counter with Liz the day we found out John F. Kennedy died. I think I was 6 or 7.  It was a Friday. I just got off the bus from the stupid private school I went to. I distinctly remember her putting her hands over her mouth, stunned by the news.  All I could think about was, “She is going to poke her eyes out with those fingernails.”

 I thought she probably had the longest fingernails in the world. But, then I saw a picture of a man in my mom’s National Enquirer.  He had the longest fingernails in the world. The world. Why? It just didn’t make sense to me. I mean, I tried to be a pogo stick champion one summer. That was a feat. But, growing fingernails so long that you can’t wash your own hair was just something that made no sense to me. I came to the conclusion that they had to be retarded. (And that word wasn’t politically incorrect back then.)

So, here I am at Walmart, staring at a lady with long, lime green fingernails, trying to pick up cans of cat food.  I smiled, because I felt like a kid again, sitting at Mom’s lunch, staring at Liz’s long fingernails. But, I had one question I really wanted to ask the fingernailed cat lady-

“How are you going to pop open those cans of cat food with those things?”

Spring Forward into the River

Image via Wikipedia

Spring is in the air. Well, sort of.  The birds are trying to chirp, but this weather lately has been confusing. They, instead, stutter…”Chir ir ir p,”  because it is so damn cold. Spring has not sprung. Robins land on the ground, look over at their red-breasted leader and yell, ”Dammit, Ralph, you told us it was Spring. You do this to us every year.” (That’s where we get the term, “bird brain.” ) And tonight we get to change our clocks. Dear God, I hate Daylight Savings Time. I would really like to know what the hell we are saving. My son, who is working on his PHD in Economics, tells me  there are savings, but I really didn’t want to hear about it.  All I know, is that it doesn’t save me a damn thing, because it wipes me out for two weeks.

I am a zombie after the time change. You could light my hair on fire, and I would just take my good old time throwing water on myself to put the fire out. I am worthless.  Don’t tell me it’s on in my head, either, because I will  have to harm you. It’s real and it has been happening to me for years and years.

 We “Fall back” at 2 a.m. on the first Sunday in November by setting our clock back one hour. In March, tonight, we set them ahead one hour. This is where it really kills my poor circadian Rhythm. I wrote about it before. Because I like to obsess. http://dyingbraincells.wordpress.com/2010/11/05/hello-circadian-dysrhythmia/

The change to Daylight Saving Time allows us to use less energy in lighting our homes by taking advantage of the longer and later

I didn't do this..really

daylight hours.  Well, my Benjamin Franklin, inventor of  this worthless endeavor, we don’t use candles anymore and quite frankly, I think that you should maybe go stand outside during a lightning storm or something. You may want to take a kite…and a key with you. 

I save nothing. I lose sleep.

Daylight Loser Time

Ketchup Sandwiches

When I was little, I would eat ketchup sandwiches when I didn’t like what we were having. This was after, of course, I had to play by my mother’s rules.

“Vickie, eat your dinner……………peas are good for you……….yes they are…………they are not mushy………..Vickie, eat your dinner…….I don’t know why they aren’t orange like carrots……It doesn’t matter, eat your dinner…………..Vickie, quit lining the peas up on your knife………..Ok, they are all over the floor now……Vickie, the dog is nowhere near you. She did not bump into you. You had them on your knife…….Because I have been watching you not eat your dinner……….Ok, you know what, no Blue Bird meeting for you tonight…”

Yeah, whatever. I can’t tell you how many times I was sent to my room for not eating what was on my plate. I usually hid my peas in my glass of milk. I would drink most of it and then drop peas down in the milk. You could actually hide a lot of peas in milk. I was hungry, but not for awful food like green beans or peas, or yams. I’m not much of a vegetable eater. I like green peppers, raw carrots, and I love potatoes.  So, when my mom would forget that she had sent me to my room, I would meander into the kitchen and fix myself a ketchup sandwich. My dad would usually be in the kitchen later, finding something to snack on. His tastes were weird. He would have a sliced tomato sandwich, with a bunch of salt and pepper on it. I guess that would be in the same family as a ketchup sandwich.

 My mom usually knew when I made a ketchup sandwich, mainly because I used a knife to get the ketchup flowing. I didn’t leave things so neat. I was a kid. There was nothing worse than being on the lam and having to wait for the ketchup to come out of the bottle. So, I used a knife. You were supposed to hit your two fingers on the neck of the bottle, but I didn’t have time. I was supposed to be banished to my room. Heinz was a little late on the development of the squeeze bottle for me.

 And since I was quite the picky one, it had to be Heinz ketchup. I could tell the difference in ketchup’s a mile away. Heinz ketchup on Wonder bread.

 When I was in college, one of my roommates would build a sandwich, and right before putting the piece of bread on top and calling it a day,  would layer potato chips on it and then sort of smash the bread down on the whole sandwich. Weird. I would just look at her while I ate my ketchup sandwich. People eat the weirdest things, I thought.

 Fast forward years later, and my little girl won’t even try a ketchup sandwich. What was wrong with her? These things are delicious. She is 23 now, and still hates ketchup or any condiment, for that matter. She must have been switched at birth or something. I can’t even imagine eating french fries without ketchup. That’s not American. When I eat a hot dog, as much as I like hot dog sauce, I would just choose ketchup over the sauce any day.

The only time I ever wrote a company to complain is the day I wrote to Heinz to ask them what the hell they were thinking with putting GREEN ketchup on our table. Green ketchup. Why don’t you just make black cotton candy while you’re at it. It was just so wrong.

 ”Dear Heinz people,

         Seriously? Green ketchup? What the hell were you thinking?

                                                                 Sincerely,

                                                           Vickie Mendenhall

  I really did write to the company. Because, in the end, who wants to eat Ghostbuster slime on their hot dogs or hamburgers? It reminded me on an infection….on a bun.  (She shudders).

So, I haven’t had a ketchup sandwich since about 1978.  I haven’t had a ketchup bun since 1985.

I’m thinking I am overdue.

Simulated Piece of History

With the upcoming April wedding of His Royal Highness Prince William and Kate approaching, we are given the remarkable opportunity to own a ring that is similar to the one that Kate is wearing on her finger. It was the same ring that Lady Diana received from Prince Charles many years before. And we are able to wear one on our finger, too. Isn’t this an exciting prospect? The Sterlington Collection is offering to the public, “The Heirloom Ring.”

We have to hurry, though. There is overwhelming demand for this simulated piece of history. Because of  the limited time offer restriction, there is a STRICT  limit of only one per household. That means that Grandma can not get one too.  Sorry, Grandma.  So, I went to their web site, because I was thinking that I would like to be engaged too, without the husband.  Sounds like a great deal. And  I can have this ring for only $19.90. The original price was set to be $119.00. They lowered the price because they want us to share in this rare opportunity. The great thing about this amazing ring is that I will get a certificate of authenticity and the ring comes in a hinged decorative blue velveteen jeweler’s box. Hinged. I can hardly believe this.

For those of you who cannot read, which I guess would be hard to read this about not being able to read, but anywho, there is a British gentlemen who reads the whole page for you, over and over and over again. His voice is quite….British, so it makes me really want to own this ring.

 This limited edition replica of  Diana’s/Kate’s ring is a gorgeous simulated Ceylon sapphire and is surrounded by “scintillating” diamond x4CZ’s and the prong is set in silver plate. This is a very special ring indeed. I imagine CZ stands for cubic zirconia.  So, let me get this straight. I am going to get  a simulated sapphire and simulated diamonds on a ring of silverplate, layered in sterling silver  for $19.90 plus $6.99 shipping and handling. I feel sorry for people in Canada, Guam Puerto Rico, Hawaii, US Virgin Islands and Alaska because they have to add an additional $10.00 to the shipping and handling. But, hey, how many times are we able to own a piece of royal British history?

 If you want to order this magnificent replica, please note that they have heavy telephone call volume at their customer service centers. It may be difficult to get through to their customer representatives and may experience busy signals. Well, my God, I hope I am able to get through at some point. Time is running out! But, wait. They want us to know that if we want to call instead of ordering online, we can call on Thursday or Friday between 9am and 5pm. They will for sure be able to answer the phone then. They won’t be busy at all then.

 Your satisfaction is guaranteed or simply return it and they will refund your purchase price less shipping and handling. Which means you will be out only $6.99. Well, unless you live in those other areas. Canadians, for example, you would be out $16.99. But, really, why would you want to return this impeccable simulated replica?

But, WAIT.  Uh oh…..I found another site that is selling the ring. I’m so confused. The Bradford Exchange is selling “The Royal Inspiration” ring. It is the exact same ring. I guess that is why they call it a replica. Now, this particular ring is “impeccably brilliant” and is crafted from a Diamonesk sapphire. I have never heard of a Diamonesk sapphire. Boy, do I have a lot of research to do before I buy this important piece of history. They have a “striking replica” of the ring and are offering it to the public for only $24.75. Oh, sorry, my bad. It is 4 installments of only $24. 75 for the low price of  $99.00 plus $9.98 shipping and handling. I’m thinking that the reason their shipping and handling is more expensive is because Diamonesks must weigh more. Or they have it in a bigger hinged box of velveteen. Hinged.

Oh, there’s another. “The Princess Ring.”

And another. “The Kate Middleton Ring.” You can get this one for $899.00 on Amazon. If you don’t want to compromise on quality and are looking for a real sapphire, this is the ring for you. Damn. I’m in quite a pickle. Almost simulated, simulated, or real? What to do?

 Back in November, New York Daily News reported  an interview with another manufacturer of  “The Ring.”….. ”Our Web site crashed, phones are ringing like crazy,” said Michael Arnstein, chief executive of the Natural Sapphire Co. “We just hope we can handle the demand.” Dear God, I do too. I will have to head to his web site and see if they are still offering the ring. I imagine they aren’t because of the high demand across the nation. I mean, the world.

I’m getting upset. QVC had the simulated ring for sale in November. Costume jewelry designer Kenneth Jay Lane was hawking his bargain version of the bauble, made in China,  qvc.com for $35.

This has worn me out. I thought there was only one “official” Kate Middleton Heirloom Royal Engagement ring. I have too many choices. And not much time, apparently, because of the high demand.

I just found a site where I can buy a “Royal Ring holder.” It will actually hold the royal ring. Isn’t this fascinating. It is only $12.99.

Well, it looks like I have much more research to do before I make a prudent decision that could affect my whole life. But, wait. Do I really want to wear an engagement ring? Wouldn’t that make future, potential suitors to balk at asking me out to dinner, perhaps, if they see me wearing the official royal heirloom engagement ring?  I would like the chance to go to McDonald’s for dinner sometime.

I have so much to think about. 

Like, why are people actually falling for this stuff?

---

Cursing/Cussing Protocol

A friend let me know this morning that I wasn’t using the right symbols when I cursed on a facebook status. Apparently, one must use the pound symbol, #,  like Beetle Bailey does in the comic strip.  For example, the symbols %$#* would be correct, as would *#&!, but never ^($@.  See? It really doesn’t look right. So, if you must cuss, use the pound symbol.

  People have been cursing since the beginning of time. I don’t know that for sure, but I can only imagine. “Holy sh*t!” was probably uttered in biblical times. There were enough miracles and weird stuff going on to mutter that. Case in point: Parting of the sea. You know that had to amaze someone enough to curse. Maybe something happened to a cow. “Holy cow!” It could have happened like that.

 One thing I want to straighten out before I get into the meat and potatoes of this post is that you can say either “curse” or “cuss.”  Cuss is an American alteration of “curse.” You know we love to cut words down when we get the chance. So, both words are correct. Well, unless you put a curse on someone. That takes on a whole new meaning.

 When I was little, my mom and dad never cursed/cussed in front of us. Well, except for the one time my dad had a flat tire when we were driving on vacation somewhere. I was sitting in the backseat, fighting with my brother and sister, when I heard my dad say…the F word. I don’t know how old I was, but I started crying. My mom got mad because we had to get out of the car so he could change the tire. He was cussing under his breath and I heard every word. My mom didn’t understand why I was crying.

“Vickie…..why in the world are you crying?………………..Well, he is really mad………Well, your dad isn’t a cartoon character, so he doesn’t say dagnabbit……..I don’t know what Gadzooks means, Vickie……Yes, people say “heck”  instead of “down there. (She pointed down, to hell, without saying such an awful word in front of a child.)…..Vickie, I have no idea what you are asking………..Who is Betsy?”

 I wanted to know why Grandma always said, “Heavens to Betsy.”  What the hell did that mean? There were a lot of alternate curse  words that I just didn’t understand when I was little. I always enjoyed words. That is probably one of the reasons I was an English minor in college. Words fascinate me. And curse words and the “other” words that were used that you know damn well were meant to be curse words. And here is a list that I collected around the internet.

crud                             

F-ing                            

Geez                       

Holy Cow!                                

piddle              

shucks                   

Sheesh   

Gee whiz                     

 land sakes!                

 blimey                  

 jeepers                                      

gadzooks         

pshaw                     

hotdiggity         

my word                    

 egads                           

 Golly                     

diddly squat                             

crap                  

 red cent                

bull

blasted                        

bloody                       

dagnabbit           

fiddlesticks                              

frick                   

friggin                   

flippin

shoot                          

sugar                             

fudge                    

gosh darn                                

drat                        

Poo                    

Mamma  Mia

heck                           

son of a gun                

jeepers                 

Aye chihuahua                       

dang it                 

Shucks               

bloomin

gee willikers  

Oh, my stars! (Thanks, Wendy)        

for the love of Pete                                   

Jiminy Cricket                         

effin                    

F-U

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 My dad’s best friend cussed like a sailor. But, when he was stuck in our family room and we were still awake, he tried to behave himself. I remember he used, “that son of a gun,” “shoot”, and “piddly” a lot. I am sure it got more colorful when we went to bed. So, I thought I would find out. I sneaked out of my bed and sat in the darkened hall so I could listen to them talk. Oh my! I crawled back in bed and cried.  My dad had a very foul mouth. I thought that he really needed his mouth washed out with soap. Like with the Lava soap he had downstairs.

  I think people make up their own phrases. My childhood friend, Lori, used to say, “Sugar” all the time. “Oh, sugar, look, I closed the door on my finger.”  She was the type that probably never cussed in her life. She is probably still saying, “Sugar!”  When I grew up, I really didn’t cuss much. I probably would make myself cry.  I never cussed around my children when they were little, either. But, I made up my own curse words. For some reason, I always said, “Geez Oy, Marie.”  Why? Hell, I don’t know. It’s what came out of my mouth. I did start to use the word, “freakin” as they got older, probably because I wanted out of the “freakin” house. It really was hard being a stay-at-home mom, dammit.

The funniest story I heard about a child cussing is a story that happened to a kindergarten teacher that my children had. A friend’s son, Joseph, told a child to “Pass me a God-damn crayon” and then looked at the teacher and added, “And turn off the f *%#@*!  light.” Well, it was nap time, after all. It’s funny how people will blame other members of the family for their cursing. “I don’t know where he learned how to talk like that. We don’t use those words in our house.”  Sure.

  I don’t know why, but it amuses me to hear elderly people cuss.  Like Betty White. She has quite the foul mouth. My mother-in-law cusses and it just cracks me up. She uses the “F-bomb” a lot. It makes my daughter cackle. Well, she is 23 now, so I am sure she has heard curse words by now. But, not coming out of her grandma’s mouth. She is funny when she gets on a roll. When my dad passed away and I was elected to go to the nursing home to tell my grandmother that her son had died, she slapped me and told me to get the hell out of the God damn room. Ok, Grandma. See you later. Ok, maybe the cursing wasn’t so funny that particular day. My dad probably was laughing from above, though.

  My fourth graders often come up to me to let me know that a student used “a dirty word.”  They are shocked and I know where they are coming from, remembering the first time my dad cursed in front of me. They are so cute. “Ms. Mendenhall, he said the “s” word.” 

 In the end, the internet has changed the way people cuss/curse.  We use symbols to fill in the letters of our cursing. TV shows  are using the word “Bleep” when we damn well know they mean, “S*it.”  I still don’t know how they got away with that one.

 The biggest curse symbol or abbreviation that is a modern wonder is “WTF.”  We always had S.O.B., but the internet is changing the way we talk. I’m surprised more people don’t vocally say, “lol” instead of laughing. Well, they do write ROFLMAO (Rolling on Floor, Laughing My Ass Off)

And that is just the way the blasted ball bounces.