I swear…sorry, but I do. Like a truck driver, sailor, stevedore…take your pick. Before you get your panties in a wad, I am mindful of where I swear and who’s around. Never swear in front of children, the elderly (unless they have a mouth worse than yours), or in church, with Ireland being the only exception. (I’ve been to Ireland. The men gather in the vestibule and drink during the service. No lie.)
Swearing is a release; it expends energy and makes one feel better…at least I do. Studies have been done which showed highly intelligent people swear more than average people (fuckin’ right we do). Plus it’s often hilarious…you can string them together in colorful patterns or make up new words. Twatwaffle. Twunt. Douche canoe. Thundercunt. Just typing them makes me laugh…as a woman, there’s nothing like seeing a man look momentarily confused when you call him a “weenus.”
Swearing can be a drinking game, sorta like Scrabble. The more words/letters in the rant, the higher the score. Your opponents have to take a shot…after a while you stop keeping score and are just shouting profanities at each other, until you’re asked to leave the bar you’re in.
Speaking of colorful, swearing in a foreign language is even better…calling a female a “Saloppe” or “connasse” is not a compliment (whore and cunt of a pig – rough translation). It’s worth learning a few of those to flummox the object of your ire.
Now don’t think I am encouraging you to do something you aren’t comfortable doing; however, sometime when you’re alone and watching the news, try bellowing “TWAT” when you see that female anchor you can’t stand, or “Dicknipple!” at the preternaturally perky guy on one of the godawful morning shows. You may find yourself feeling better.
