The Curse of Cursing

As you’ve probably noticed by now…I tend to curse a lot. I throw in quite a few f-bombs here and there as well as other lesser curse words. But did you know I wasn’t always like that? In fact, there was a time when I hated cursing and when I hated people who cursed. It’s weird to think about, but it’s true.

For this post we have to travel all the way back to when I was a wee widdle wad. I know “wad” is a word, but you have to pronounce it like “lad” with a “w”. I guess you don’t have to, I can’t tell you what to do. But for that to work, it should be pronounced that way. I’m just stalling now. So anyway, how is your sex life? (If you get what that’s from, you’re awesome.)

Moving on. When I was a kid, like I stated already, I hated cursing. I hated hearing people curse and I even got mad at people who cursed. And I’m not talking about f-bombs here, I’m talking real minor curse words like “ass” and “hell”. Remember Cameron? I bet you do. Well let’s talk some more about him.

As you know if you’ve read my previous blog posts, he and I were best friends all the way back to when he was in grade 2 and I was in grade 3. But there were some rocky moments in our friendship even before he became a terrible wingman. I also want to clear something up, because I feel it’s pretty vague right now: I do not hate Cameron. No one’s really asked me if I hate him or not, but after the treatment that Connor got, I just want to make sure people understand that Cameron and I just kind of drifted apart, but I don’t hate him. Hell, I don’t even hate Connor. He’s an asshole, but truth-be-told, if he and Erica were to break up there’s a part of me that might try to be his friend again.

Anyway, now that that’s cleared up, back to the story. When we were kids if he said a bad word, I would stop talking to him. Just like that, I would start ignoring him. Cameron would sometimes say “hell” or “ass” or “damn” if there were some other (older?) kids around and he wanted to impress them. However, I was less than impressed with this and would just walk away.

There was one time in particular I remember that Cameron ended up calling my house to apologise. You know, because texting wasn’t really a thing back then…at least, not for us young folks. So yeah, Cameron called my house phone to apologise for swearing and I forgave him. Isn’t that so weird? I say “fuck” all the time nowadays, but back then I was such a goody two-shoes that I stopped being Cameron’s friend simply because he cursed.

So where’d this begin? I have a theory…but I’m not going to mention it yet, because I’m a tease. I want you guys to be on the edge of your seat in anticipation. I like to imagine that that’s how people actually read my blog. I’ll get to my theory but first a quick detour.

This story I’m about to tell you, along with my theory and the fact that I would get mad at Cameron for swearing were all originally going to be part of the violence post, but then I felt that they would be better in their own post where I can expand on the details and fill in another week’s worth of blogging. I gotta be honest too, I’m starting to run out of material and might soon move the editorial posts to be Monday posts too. That means that they’ll be longer editorials, but it also means less stories of my past. It’s something I’m thinking about anyway, but now the story.

So grade one. It’s an interesting time. Kindergarten was a breeze and now you’re thrown in to actually having to do work. Granted, it’s not difficult work, but it’s no nap time, play time, story time routine. And the cherry on top was having a mean-spirited evil teacher. I’m not even going to try to spell her name, but she was evil. She had this clipboard that she would use to write down the students’ names in if they did something bad. Now here’s the kicker, my name went on that board every single day even if I didn’t do anything.

So why am I bringing this up and what does this have to do with swearing? Well this one time I remember saying to some kid (whose name I can’t remember) “h-e-l-l”. I didn’t say “hell”, I spelt out each letter. The kid, so shocked that I didn’t say “h-e-double-hockey-sticks”, got up from his desk and told on me. My name went on that freakin’ clipboard.

When I was in grade five or so she retired and I thought to myself “thank God”. Then she came back to visit a year or so later and brought us all Freezies as if that would make up for the torture I endured being in her class. And now the funniest part of them all, she came to my register this past summer and actually recognised me. I didn’t recognise her until she told me her name and then I knew who she was instantly. I was very friendly to her, don’t worry. She told me that she always thought I was such a smart student. Bullshit.

But I digress, moving on. So that’s not where my hatred for swearing came from. My theory actually takes place in grade 2, just one year before I met Cameron.

I was in a grade 2/3 split and there was this guy in grade 3 named Marc. I actually still talk to Marc on occasion, but I’ll never forget this now-hilarious but then-horrifying event that occurred. We had some free time in the class and so Marc and I went into the back room to use the computer there. The computer had this program where, when you type something, it says “hi” followed by whatever you typed. Marc thought it would be hilarious to put some swear words in there…and it was.

“Hi ass hell fart.”

“Hi pussy dick shit.”

Man, it was great fun. That is until we decided to put some monstrous jumbled clusterfuck of swear words in it. I don’t remember exactly what it was, but it was something like:

“fuck shit dick pussy ass hell damn fucking ass dick shit fuck”

And of course…the teacher walked in. I quickly tried to cover the evidence…with my hand. She ended up seeing what we wrote and I got banned from using the computer in the back room. Thanks, Marc.

So that’s where I think my hatred for cursing came from. So why am I so comfortable using it all the time now? I grew up.

It was a very gradual growth though.

The first time I said “hell” in the presence of my family, it was in the presence of my sister. She told on me and I got grounded and couldn’t watch The Simpsons for a week because my mom felt that I was trying to emulate Bart.

It took me a while before I cursed again, and when I did it was a slip up. I was walking to my house with my dad and sister and my sister was annoying me and I just wanted to say “shut up” but I ended up saying “shut the hell up.” My dad didn’t say anything and then my sister told my mom and she was like “whatever”. So then I knew I was in the clear.

And it gradually grew from that. Eventually I started being able to even say “shit” in front of my parents. Though, to this day I still don’t say “fuck” in front of my parents. I don’t know why, my sister does all the time, but I just feel awkward using that one in front of my parents.

The novel that I had mentioned at the beginning of this blog back in August has lots of uses of “fuck” in it, and so I was nervous letting my dad read it. But he didn’t seem to care about that.

While we’re talking about swearing I might as well also bring up the time that I quoted Friends. There’s an episode from season two when this crazy girl thinks Joey is actually Dr. Drake Ramoray and not an actor and the rest of the gang is trying to convince her that he’s actually Drake Ramoray’s evil twin brother so that she’ll leave Joey alone. They each take turns throwing a glass of some-beverage in Joey’s face and when Chandler does it he says, “And you left the toilet seat up, you bastard!” Well, I remember quoting that line in front of my dad and he was like, “don’t say that, that’s a bad word.”

So this post was all over the place and definitely not in any kind of chronological order, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. My adventures with cursing concludes here. I’m gonna end it with this picture of Jesse Pinkman.


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