Cuss Free Week
It is “Cuss Free Week” in California.
What happened was, this kid in Pasadena started a “No Cussing Club’ in his junior high school a couple years ago. Next thing you know, some Assemblyman from La Canada (who apparently has nothing better to do since our state is so ship shape in every other respect) proposed a resolution which the Assembly has passed and is sending on to the Senate, to make this thing real and annual, so all us cussers will be forced to abstain for a whole darn week every darn March.
Actually, I have been pretty good about observing CFW. Others, I’ve noticed, have not been so compliant. Sandra Bulloc’s publicist was quite abusive when I stepped on the train of her client’s dress at the Oscars but, I think that was technically just before Cuss Free Week started, so I let it go.
But then that gas station attendant really let loose the other day when I forgot to remove the gas pump/hose/thing from my vehicle before leaving his premises. Golly, he was mad. I tried to tell him about the significance of Cuss Free Week but I guess he didn’t hear me because he just told me to %X$%!! off.
Even my husband Tom slipped out a curse when we lost power yesterday just as he’d snapped on the TV to chill with a little Sports Center. In spite of my gentle reminder that California wasn’t cussin’, he uttered a few more naughty ones when forced to read the sports section by dim flashlight.
But I did pretty well, curse-wise, even when my dog Oliver vomited on the carpet just as I was leaving for the airport today. However, I am now at LAX and very frustrated because I just heard my gosh darn flight is delayed two hours. I mean I’m saying “gosh darn,” but once we’re airborne, safely out of the state, I will admit I’m thinking more colorful language.
Oh, how fudging awesome is that! I’ve heard some crazy shoot before, but that part about Bullock’s publicist — I mean, what a motherscratcher.
Thanks for the laugh!
When I was in elementary school, a friend of mine told me my parents swore more than anyone else’s parents. I mentioned that to my father at dinner. He responded with a lovely,
You know I could never remember my father use the “F” word. In turn he never heard his father, Michael who immigrated to the U.S in 1909, from Sicily, ever say the “F” word. Dad started a pizza business in 1959 and Grandpa Mike who had an accent and stuttered used to use the “F” quite frequently when the high school employees teased him a little.. He would tell them to, “go fa, fa, fa## yourself.” I told this to my Dad and he was in denial and absolute shock.
Now, I unfortunately don’t take after my father and I have let a few choice words slip out in front of my kids. Not out of anger but from jokes and funny stories. I over heard my 12 year old son saying to a friend on XBOX live to “piss on a pinecone.” As I father I should have reprimanded him but I had to wait until I stopped laughing
I guess Miss Congeniality’s handlers weren’t so congenial?
You are great Jessica, thanks for the laugh as always. I hope Oliver feels better, he is a cute dog.
Thanks Jessica…very funny! As was the article about being post racial…don’t get too cynical out there though…on the other hand keep the hilarity rolling.
Another Noble Experiment…However, some of us must take the baby steps approach; I might make a Cuss Free Half Hour, but not without considerable discomfort.
Jesse is a real jerk to cheat on somebody so kind and excellent as Sandra. What goes around comes around!
You are bad. Cussing? There was this this Italian guy I splashed at the curb last week. I’m not sure if he was cussing me out or telling me I need a vacation. He kept yelling about a Sun an’ a beach.