I just realized, while having a conversation with my wife on Messenger, that I unnecessarily cuss a lot. I mean, I’ve always known I like to cuss and I do so frequently, but tonight I realized just how bad it is. And by bad I mean good. Remember when bad meant good and everyone knew when you said bad you meant good? Michael knew.
Here’s the conversation we were having. It was about AVG security on our computers and phones. She pays for a subscription and it covers unlimited computers and such. So we’re doing all of our stuff with her account. I downloaded AVG Free on my phone and laptop, but I was having issues with where to login with her stuff. Now that you’re caught up…
ME: I just got a notification that said it was upgraded to pro.
HER: Sorry I didn’t share that with you sooner.
ME: That’s ok. I just scanned the phone and it was clean, which surprised the fuck out of me.
HER: Me too.
ME: I’m about to scan this fucking computer. It should be clean too though.
ME: Where the shit do I login at on the PC version?
Turns out she couldn’t help me. The best is how she doesn’t react at all when I cuss. We both cuss so much that it’s just normal language to us. But usually when she cusses, it’s funny, so I have to laugh. She cusses good.
I’ve always been a fan of cussing. When I was a little kid, my dad would go for walks and he would take me along. Sitting on his shoulders as we went down the street, I’d listen to him tell stories of his childhood. Sometimes he would throw in a cuss word here or there, and I would laugh and laugh. Because he cusses good, too.
He told me so many stories about his childhood, so many times, that his childhood was very much part of my childhood. He also told the rest of his family about how I thought cussing was funny, so during family gatherings at his family’s house, when my one aunt would come in, if she saw me she would stop and say, “Well GOD DAMMIT!” and I would laugh my ass off. I was four or five then.
Once when I was a little older I was walking down the street talking to myself, like I do, and even when talking to myself at that age (probably ten) I thought to myself, I cuss too much.
Shortly after that I started going to church, and I thought I should clean up my ways if I was going to be buddies with the Lord. So I decided I was going to stop cussing. This was when I was 12 or so. I lasted two days.
This is one of the reasons why I’d probably be a terrible parent. Which makes it a good thing that Jen and I will never have kids. I should probably never be around them. If I was a cartoon character, I’d be The Coachman from Pinocchio.
I’m not saying I’d sell them into slavery, but they’d probably be better off if I did.