Archive for the ‘swearing’ Tag

04-18-2015 Journal – Lawn Tractors & Cuss Words!   Leave a comment

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I decided to do that one big job I had scheduled for today before I blogged anything.  That may have been a huge mistake.  I’ve been putting off doing some repair work to my lawn tractor that  still refuses to start.  I knew it would be a frustration for me because I hate doing things mechanical.  The only mechanical person in my entire  family was my late father who maintained a large float-glass factory for PPG for more than forty years.  He knew everything about machines and he taught me only enough to get me into trouble.  He also over the years taught me how to really and truly cuss.  I was never aware of how many cuss words could be strung together until I worked with him on a few of his projects.

Pop was a professional  cusser and damn proud of it.  I ‘m more like him than I care to admit and if  today was any example I may be better now than he was then.  This effing tractor is driving me insane.  I  was tempted today to just drive it out into the middle of the back yard, douse it with gasoline, and a have a freaking bonfire.

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After I thought about it a while I decided that doing that would then turn into something else entirely. With my luck some A-Hole from the town might ride by, check to see if I had a burn permit, and then call the cops when they found out I didn’t.  Then the cops would have appeared and issued me a citation which would have sent me right over the edge. That combined with my pissed off attitude over this tractor would have assured me of a ride to the county jail for some sort of disorderly conduct charge.  I know for a fact I’d have used a lot of those good old cuss words my father taught me and then the cop would have cuffed me and dragged me away.

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If all that had actually occurred it would have cost me a few hundred dollars in fines, a few hours in the jail, and a somewhat questionable relationship with the local police.  Then I would have come home and the real punishment would have started.  I’d have heard each and every one of my father’s favorite cuss words all over again from my petit but really loud better-half. Nothing on earth is worth sitting through that tirade.

With my common sense keeping me from a trip to the jail I ended up saving a few hundred dollars today.  Now if I take that money and hire a real mechanic to fix this damn tractor I just might break even. 

It’s funny how things just keep snowballing along whether we like it or not.

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10-24-2014 Journal Entry – Rain, Rain, Go Away!   Leave a comment

It’s just another rainy, crappy, and gray October day here in Maine.  It’s a great day to stay in the warm house and to catch up on a million things I’ve been putting off.  With that in mind the cat and I retired to the man-cave to relax, watch a little TV, and work on the computer.  My better-half has the day off and is  enjoying herself in the kitchen.  She’s baking cookies, talking on the phone with family members, and preparing Halloween treats for mailing to her kids.  It looked like a great day was in the making for both of us.

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Just as I was finally beginning to relax  my better-half popped into my inner sanctum for a visit.  She gave me a kiss and an even bigger hug which while appreciated also told me something was up.  She intended to take a short shopping trip and was hinting around for a traveling companion.  Before I knew it I was changing my clothes and preparing to face the outside world.

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The traffic was heavier than anticipated and people were driving badly as always seems to be the case  when the rains come.  After traveling for a few minutes she decided the trip would be shortened from three stops to just one.  I assumed it was because of the rain but it may have been due to all of my swearing and cursing at passing motorists.  We arrived at the store, parked, and began walking towards the entrance.  Almost immediately the sky opened up and the rains came.  I didn’t realize I could still run that fast but I did.  As we entered the store I was told in no uncertain terms that this was to be a short power shopping visit for just a  few essential items  . . .  Yeah right!  Forty-five minutes and a full shopping cart later we were on our way towards the door. We could see through the front windows that  the rain was coming down even harder than before.  I was convinced to bring the car around to the front door where I could pick up her majesty.  I reached the car, drove it to the entrance of the store, and we loaded the groceries into the trunk.  We were wet and uncomfortable and  I could’t wait to get home.

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It was more of the same during the drive home.  I wish I had a dollar for every horn I heard honking and every finger I saw  thrown in anger.  It’s amazing to me how people from Maine can drive normally in two feet of snow and  a blizzard but can’t deal with a moderate amount of rainfall.  I found myself wishing for snow for just a moment but then good sense prevailed.

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We arrived home and quickly pulled into the garage to get out of the rain.  Within seconds of unloading the first bag of groceries I looked outside and the rain had stopped completely.  It never fails . . .

 

 

01-21-2013   Leave a comment

In the past I’ve complained about certain things in New England that bother me and I’m going to do it all over again today. There are times when I’m just plain embarrassed to be living in Maine.  I was born and raised in the mill towns and bars of western Pennsylvania where the people take great pride in themselves in almost everything they do.  They love their Steelers, their Pirates, and their down-to-earth common sense approach to all things.  I’m most proud of a dying “art form” superbly represented by the people there, world class cussing.  It’s learned at an early age but takes many years of practice to really do it justice.

At age three I was sitting on a street corner in Natrona, Pa. with my grandfather and his buddies who paid me nickels and pennies to repeat cuss words.  I don’t specifically remember those days but I’ve been told by numerous people over the years who remember them all too well.  If by chance I uttered the occasional F-Bomb, I’d get a quarter and possibly an ice  cream cone.  So you have to admit I come by cussing honestly, it’s a family tradition.

Off course we all were raised as Steelers fans and if you didn’t curse loudly and often enough while watching their games then you were a goddamn traitor. You’d better be ready to voice your support for those Steelers loud and long as they kicked the shit out of those pussies from Cleveland and those cocksuckers from Texas. It takes a special knack to string numerous cuss words together for maximum effect and we have it.

Western Pennsylvania isn’t known for ethnic diversity but it should be. We lived in menagerie of Irish, Polish, Slovaks, Blacks, Italians, Asians, and the occasional Hispanic.  To be a professional cusser in our neighborhood you had to learn cuss words from at least six languages just to be properly understood.  We were all well on our way to being linguists of a sort in grade-school.  We were the fucking UN of goddamn cusswords and proud of it. 

I’ve lived in Maine now for more than ten years and I have to say that the cussing here is a little more laid back than I’m used to.  A little too polite and prissy for a boy from fucking Pennsylvania.  I actually look forward to trips back home where I can walk into a bar after twenty-five years in New England and have someone say, “Hey who let that motherfucker with the weird accent in here and is he buying the next goddamn round?”.  It’s just not the same here in Maine.  Two F-bombs in one sentence seems to be too much for Maine sensibilities. I think it’s the wrong headed French influences emanating from our neighbor to the north.  Well hell, if they don’t fucking like my style of cussing they can kiss my big fucking ass.

Just saying. 

Posted January 22, 2013 by Every Useless Thing in Humor, Just Saying

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