Word on the street is that my Dad is embarrassed or ashamed to read my blog because of my swearing. Sucka say WHA? This bit of info surprises me on two accounts.
1. I had no idea that my Dad ever even attempted to read my little ol' blog.
2. Are we talking about MY DAD! The man who has never shied away from a good swear. I grew up with a liberal usage of hells, damns, dammits and even shits. Now, in his defense, he was nowhere near Jere levels of swearing (who is?) but he certainly was free and easy with the swears. Shoot, he still IS!! Let it be said, I was a pure and innocent little thing and I would actually cringe and be a bit traumitized anytime he would swear. Like the time he was Bishop and I was asking for some help on math homework, and he totally swore at me, 'cause i wasn't getting it, and he was clearly stressed out. Whatever Tonester, talk about the pot calling the kettle black. I am just so stunned by this turn.
Where did I learn this inside scoop? From my mother, who told it to Lana and Jere whilst they were all at the Sal-on discussing my blog for some reason. She shoots out this gem and then apparently rolled her eyes at the silliness of it all. I mean, my MOM isn't offended and she is NOT so much a swearer. Growing up, if my Mom swore, it was VERY rare and VERY disturbing when she would. There was the time that I was doing something at the piano, and I s'pose I had irritaed her too much, because she told me to "stop being a jack ass." Well, you would have thought she told me she'd killed my baby brother. I went to my room and proceeded to sob and wail over this horrific infraction. Jenny happened to be in our room, on her bed. She asked me why I was crying and I said, in between great gasping breaths and sobs..."How ::gasp gasp:: would you::sniff, sob:: like it::snort, cry:: if Mom call you a Jaaaaack Asssss ::wail, cry sob::? I mean really, she just didn't bust out the swears. But then there is this story, my FAVORITE in all family lore. In fact, so great, that it deserves it's own space on the page.
It seems that Jenny and Dixie were having a knock down drag out fight in the bathroom one day. They were fighting to the death over.....wait for it......WAIT FOR IT....the CLEARASIL. Yeah, freaking clearasil nearly took this sisterhood down. Anyway, there was screeching and scratching and fighting at great volume. Enter me madre, the non swearer that she is. Noone can seem to remember exactly the events that transpired next, except that Jenny, it was determined in my Moms mind was the cause of this conflict. So, in the heat of the moment, my Mom called Jenny, are you even ready for this? She called her a "shit ass witch." It was so shocking and so painful to Jenny that my Mom has never lived it down. And frankly, we all giggle at the thought of it. Really? That phrase? Too funny.
Ok, so my whole point is this...I haven't offended my Mom, and yet somehow my Dad is embarrassed? I don't feel like I use a profuse amount of profanity. Do I? I feel like I keep it in check. Don't I? No really, am I just confused? But really, sometimes a good swear is the perfect punctuation to a story. Sometimes, it just makes it funnier. Sometimes, it's just necessary. Whatever, I KNOW it's not necessary, but I just tell myself that.
The crazy part is, I was so not a swearer. Well, minus that little blip in 6th grade where Nicole Rice and I decided to try out our "badness" and practice swearing. We would literally go to the park by our house, sit on the swings and say every swear word we knew. Oh, we were sooo naughty. Then again, that 6th grade year and that Nicole were all so enlightening and naughty. I should write a post just on the things I did and learned that year...not the least of which was; Mormons got babies by having "the sex" not just by hugging. Talk about a shocker to my sweet innocence. Yeah, I was THAT naive. Anywhodle, I'm so off course here. What i'm saying is, I was not a swearer until after highschool and then I picked up "shit" from my beloved Angie, 'cause she said it Allllllll the time. I gave it up for my mission, except for that tragic moment when I was walking into my apartment and suddenly was hurtling earthward face first. As my ankle was spinning and popping I let out a LOUD "shiiiiiiiiiiit". Talk about embarrassing. I was a SISTER MISSIONARY for crying out loud...which meant I was s'posed to be "perfect". hee hee OY! I wasn't proud of that moment, but then again, I was in a lot of pain. Anyway, I really didn't swear much. Then came Jere, and life in theatre and Jere and well, it just is what it is. I do swear people, I am NOT perfect. I know that it's not the classiest thing, and it's a bit un-mormony of me. But darnit, I do it, and I'll own it.
So, sorry Dad, sorry for embarrassing you or shaming you . Sorry to anyone else of you that might get offended, or that I MIGHT have offended along the way. Just know that,at this site,in this blog....DAMMIT....swears happen.
Hellfire and damnation,
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