Thursday, July 19, 2007

Word to Your My Mother

I've never really cursed around my parents. Not that it would be a huge deal. They certainly do their share of swearing (my mom, when driving? namely en español, which is obviously how I learned the language). But even after growing up and moving away—and even though around my friends, I swear quite a bit—I've always seemed to have an automatic filter that turns on when I'm around mom 'n' pop.

And we're certainly not a buttoned-up family. Standard dinner conversations can cover some pretty risqué material. (At a recent dinner, my brother told a story that prompted my mom to inquire, "What does 'bust a nut' mean?" Ah. Classy.) But no swear words from me.

That all changed yesterday. Talking to my mom on a cell phone, I dropped the F-bomb. It was completely on-accident. And followed by several seconds of awkward silence.

Based on reception interference, she may have thought I said "mucked it up", but deep down I know that she now knows the dark secret about her progeny: I'm a bad person.


Blogger MB said...

What the muck Ray?

19/7/07 6:53 PM  
Blogger Stanley said...

Muck off, mb. And stop calling me names.

19/7/07 6:56 PM  
Blogger t(h)om said...

man, that's a mothermucker.

20/7/07 9:54 AM  
Blogger JPD said...

I once watched Mike Goddard do that on the phone (launch the F-bomb to Mother Allen Goddard) and then make the excuse that he was hanging out with ME and a bit drunk at that.

So I guess my name is so good with Mom Goddard that it can absorb a little wallowing in the dirt, but I'll admit I was indignant. It's not like hanging out with me make Mike more sailoresque.

I'll admit that I'm a parent cussing virgin, although, like our dear author, 'twould not really be a big deal.

24/7/07 7:47 PM  

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