I grew up in a household that thought cursing involved using “bad words” so on the rare occasion that either of my parents cursed, it was serious. Later I learned that cursing was fun! It added emphasis to a bland statement or made an already grave topic deadly. Throwing in a curse could also add a bit of humor to lighten the mood when sprinkled appropriately of course. When my son Matty was little, I never cursed at home. Not even once. During his formative years, I gave generously at the office. And at the time, finance was a place where f-bombs were a dime a dozen. (When the movie The Wolf of Wall Street premiered, critics wrote stories regarding the amount of time the word f*uck was used. My colleagues and I barely even noticed.) I once heard someone say, “I don’t curse. I speak fluent trucker with a sailor dialect and a construction accent.” You’re speaking my language, honey.
Eventually the day came when Matty arrived home from school with a troubled look on his face. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I asked. “Someone used the S Word in school today,” he said. I had to stifle my giggle. I loved that he was so bothered by foul language. “What did you hear? It’s ok to tell me,” I comforted him. “Well, I don’t want to say the word out loud, Mommy. But it was STUPID,” he finally blurted out. Ahhh, the S Word that bothered him was stupid! I could see why a student and a group of young, eager learners would have been so traumatized by the use of that word. So we talked it through, discussing how “bad words” were just words, but some were definitely worth dodging.
We found great substitutions for the words I tried to avoid using at home. So we said things like, “Move your arse!” And I have no idea how it came about exactly but then we started calling a tushy a “boutros.” So then it became, “I’m moving my boutros, Mom!” When SpongeBob curses, he screams, “Oh, tartar sauce!” So that was popular for a while, too. I once called Matty a “krabby patty” (more SpongeBob lingo) and whoa, he did not like that one bit. So that reference was one and done. Needless to say, my kid didn’t curse in front of me until well beyond his 20th birthday… the key words in that sentence being “in front of me.” I bet you’re thinking no f’ing way! But it’s true.
I read an article recently where the author described using “as f*ck” as a unit of measurement. I have to admit I thought this was sort of amusing. And then there’s that shirt that hangs in several random souvenir shops near Times Square that reads, “F*ck you, you f-ing f*ck!” So I guess I do understand the concept of too much of a good thing. Lately I’ve been binging the HBO show Succession (no spoiler alerts please, I’m only on season two!). That family curses at each other non-stop with “f*ck off” used as both their favorite salutation and dramatic goodbye.
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