I thought I'd start the year with
something I've never truly done; something I thought would be relatively simple
to do requiring very little effort or thought to accomplish. You know, something
simple like picking the low-hanging fruit, shooting fish in a barrel or getting
a degree from the University of Georgia. How hard could it possibly be to
stop swearing for the next 365 days and finally fulfilling the one resolution
that--year after year, I just can't seem to keep? I mean, if I put my
heart and soul into it and gave an honest effort to refrain from saying
anything I'd be embarrassed to say in front of my grandmother (God rest her
soul), then surely doing it for a mere 12 months couldn't be that difficult,
could it? Well, let's give it a try and find out.
January
1 - Cindy and I had
just spent the long New Year's holiday with her two brothers and their wives at
a cabin in the mountains of North Carolina. We would be driving the
three-and-a-half hours back to our home in Peachtree City after I returned from
my morning run. I headed out at 6:45 a.m. to run a hilly eight-mile
course in a robust 24 degrees. The initial Arctic blast of icy cold fresh
air caused me to mumble a couple of S-bombs to myself in the first 200 yards; I
immediately wondered if I had already broken my resolution not to swear.
I decided that since no one was awake within 10 miles of me--let alone
within earshot--I hadn't broken my resolution since no one heard anything I
said (I'm using the 'If no one hears a tree falling in the forest, did it make
a sound?' analogy). Once I got back to the cabin I quickly packed my
bags, showered, loaded the car and waited silently and not-so-patiently but no
one could tell because, like I already said I'm waiting silently and the best
way to ensure I don't swear is to be absolutely quiet. I carry on my
silence once we were (finally!) in the car and heading home and considered a
few subjects for casual conversation. I ultimately rejected every one of
them in my mind because I had a very strong opinion on every single one of them
and suddenly realized that when I verbalize strong opinions is when there is the
highest probability of me using an S-bomb, an F-bomb or the worst of them all,
the dreaded GD-bomb. I have a tendency to use them as adverbs or
adjectives. For example most people
would say a runner is 'very fast;' I'm prone to call that same runner
'F-bombing fast.' (I'll stop here; I doubt you need any more examples.)
So I made it all the way home with my
resolution still intact. So far so good: Only eight more hours until
bedtime and I could say I made it through an entire day without swearing.
Around 3:00 p.m. Cindy asks me how much
of the pound cake is still left on the cake plate in the kitchen. I
removed the glass cover and as I set it down on the counter it banged against a
large dish, made a loud CLINK that had I heard blindfolded I would have
expected to hear the sound of shattered glass next. Fortunately nothing
broke. I told Cindy there was still pound cake left and replaced the glass
cover. Around 6:00 p.m. we finished our dinner and as I was taking the
dirty plates to the sink Cindy asked me to get her a piece of pound cake.
I walked over to the counter, removed the glass cover and as I set it
down: CLINK! Two seconds after it happened I'm saying a silent
prayer because once again nothing was broken (that's the good news).
However, one second prior
to that I said perhaps the loudest
GD-bomb in quite a few years. Remember me saying the GD-bomb was the
worst of the lot? Well, the look on Cindy's face (keep in mind she knew
nothing of my commitment to keeping my 'no swearing' resolution this year) said
it all: A combination of 'Same old Scott' and 'It just KILLS me when he says
that!' Translation: LOO-ZER!
'It's a good thing I kept my resolution
to myself,' I thought to myself. If only I could keep my swearing to
myself. I walked into the living room and saw the Georgia Bulldogs force
a turnover against Nebraska, giving them hope of pulling out a victory in the
Gator Bowl. 'S-bomb,' I yelled. (Surprise! I hate Georgia.) Cindy barely noticed;
after all it's just the same old Scott doing what he does best.
Tomorrow is another day. Surely
I've learned from my mistakes.
Then again tomorrow is the day I am
returning to work after being off for six days, a recipe for disaster. This might get ugly.
January 2 – I headed out the front door
for my run at 4:10 a.m. It was not only
cold; it was raining as well. I hate it when
I have to start my run in a driving rain, especially when I’m leaving a warm,
dry house behind. ‘S-bomb,’ I muttered
to myself aloud for no one to hear but me, all the time remembering the falling
tree in the forest from yesterday. I
finished my run, shaved and showered (in that order; not the more commonly-said
‘showered and shaved’) and got dressed, impressed that over two hours had
passed and I hadn’t said any naughty words except for those couple of initial
volleys when I left the house for the first time. I woke Cindy before I left, intentionally
avoided any sort of dialogue that might encourage the use of colorful
adjectives and headed to work. I rode in
the car, listening to the ‘70’s station and being alone with my thoughts when
some a**clown in front of me waits until the last minute to move over one lane
into the turning lane and caused ME to slam on my brakes and wait until someone
allowed the a**clown to pull in front of them.
As I always do when this occurs, I laid on the horn until I was able to
move again. When I finally could I pulled
up beside the a**clown and again, as I always do when this occurs, I looked him
in the eye and shouted ‘F-bombing a**hole.’
Naturally with the windows up (it’s raining, remember) the a**clown
(a**clown, a**hole—same person; sorry if I confused you) couldn’t hear me
(falling tree number two); I had now gone a total of about two-and-a-half hours
since waking up without uttering a bad word; at least not one that anyone else
had heard.
Yet.
I
called my supervisor on my cell phone to see how the day was shaping up. Although it’s the day after a two-day
holiday, we’re going to be busy: Very
busy, in fact. The kind of busy my
supervisor and I are accustomed to calling ‘F-bomb me’ busy. This was going to be one of those days and as
God is my witness I never stood a chance of not swearing: The words just flew
out of my mouth. ‘F-bomb me.’ The split
second I spoke those two words I realized what I had done. The next word, in retaliation for my slip of
the tongue: ‘S-bomb.’
Realizing
the day was already a total loss for my new resolution, I spent the next 10
hours using my regular colorful assortment of adverbs and adjectives, with the intention
of making January 3 the beginning of the new me.
After
all, tomorrow is another GD-bomb day.
January 3 – I woke up at 3:30 a.m. to
outside temperatures in the mid-20’s and a wind chill that made it feel like it
was in the teens. I drank my morning
coffee and walked through the laundry room so I could get my running shoes out
of the garage. When I opened the door to
the garage I was hit in the face with an Arctic blast similar to the one a
couple of mornings ago, causing me to mumble ‘it’s f-bombing cold’ under my
breath, knowing I had ‘the falling tree’ in my back pocket. But then I noticed Morgan the cat in her
litter box out of the corner of my eye, looking at me with disappointed eyes
and making an audible ‘tsk tsk’ for my poor vocabulary choice. That surprised me, mainly because I had no
idea Morgan was in the laundry room at the time but also because apparently even
she disapproved of me using an F-bomb.
Three
strikes, I’m GD-bomb out. I
surrender. Profanity: You win.
POSTSCRIPT: For those of you with a
similar condition I did a little research and found various suggestions for
breaking the habit of using words you wouldn’t want your grandmother to hear. Things like:
·
Recognize that swearing does damage.
·
Start by eliminating casual swearing.
·
Think positively.
·
Practice being patient.
·
Stop complaining.
·
Use alternative words.
·
Think of what you should have said.
·
Blah blah and more blah.
It’s
almost as if someone actually believes some of that shit might actually work.
PARENTS: Should you use this story in
the character development of your children, please have them reference the key
below, as it explains the meaning of the abbreviations found in the preceding
narrative:
·
S-bomb = shoot
·
GD-bomb = gosh darn
·
F-bomb = fudge
·
A** = apple
·
Shit = shit
No comments:
Post a Comment