I’m going to come clean here. I cuss. Sometimes, I cuss a lot. It started when working on the back line at a Bennigan’s. Anyone who’s ever worked a kitchen knows that Gordon Ramsey isn’t over the top when it comes to the F-bombs etc. In fact, I can find him to be a little understated at times.

Yes..that tape stuck to my beard. Yes, it hurt. I did that just for YOU!

My kid heard me say WHAT?!

Case in point: Server A walks into the kitchen complaining that Cook B didn’t fix the order right. He lets her know in no uncertain terms that she is mistaken, and that she, in fact, had entered it wrong. Then Server A lets fly with a few polite suppositions that had he not been such a bumbling nitwit then his wife would still be  living with him instead of getting shtupped by some other dude…probably for money. Cook B let fly with a handful of sauteed mushrooms. Server A picked up the offending plate and hurled it at the cooks head while calling for his head on a proverbial platter. Cook B then said he’s cut her. Server A says bring it. And the manager finally stepped in and told them to all cool the frack out. (That was for you Battlestar Galactica fans out there.)

Okay…so I cleaned that up A LOT. It’s not like I hadn’t heard cussing before. Oh NELLIE! I should tell you about my granddad sometimes. He could drop G.D. and bastard into any sentence multiple times and usually did. With him, cussing was an art form. He did it so frequently and ferociously, that your brain just sort of bleeped them out to the point that you didn’t even notice it any more. So, yes, I was well indoctrinated in the art and methods of swearing. But I had never seen two grown adults go at one another so violently before. I stood slack-jawed as the food flew and people retreated to safety. And then I noticed it…EVERYONE cussed. I mean, we cussed a lot! Like a metric shit-ton! (Yes, it’s a real measurement. 😛 )

At any rate, after about 4 months of working the line, my fiancee threatened to leave me. Yes…my mouth had gotten so bad that it was spilling over into my home life. Okay, spilling over might be a bit of an understatement. Every single thing I did was steeped in profanity. Cut me off in traffic…F-bomb! Cut me off in the grocery store…D-Bomb! Normal conversation with me? F-Bomb! D-Bomb! GD-Bomb! F-Bomb again! (Because it’s such a versatile word!) Seriously, you can use it as almost every single word in a sentence! Can your other cusswords do that? Nope. Example: F the F-ing F-ers! 😀

So, in the interest of saving my marriage to be, I put the brakes on Cpt. Pottymouth of the USS Filthytongue. And everything was awesome until about five years ago. What happened five years ago, you ask? I started working in an office full of women. Yep. For three years I was effectively the only male in an office of eleven women. And I don’t care what anyone tells you…women are nasty mouthed little creatures! HOLY COW! The epithets and F-bombs…and C-BOMBS!!! It was a real eye opener. And as it turned out, it awakened the profanity freak in me again.

No, my wife wasn’t threatening to leave me over my language. She just tolerated it. I’m sure she rolled her eyes and wished I were different. But she accepted the fact that I had a mouth like a sailor. And we were sailing along just fine. At least until our son was born. Then, every single hell or damn was met with a disapproving look and a clicking tongue. “Honey, stop cussing in front of the baby.”

“Why? He can’t understand me. He can’t even hold his head up. I don’t think saying fuckballs around him is going to negatively affect his development. Besides, I’ll stop cussing so much when he gets older.” – Okay, I thought that meant like when he was beginning to talk. Because obviously, kids can’t understand a thing you’re saying if they can’t talk, right?

-Yeah…I was wrong.-

My son is 18 months old and although he only says things like Dawg. Bye-bye. Mom. Da-da (my favorite).  Spider-Man (second favorite). And kee-YAH! (thank you Kung Fu Panda). This kid understands some pretty complex instructions and concepts. So…for the last few months I have been compiling a list of pseudo-cusses to use in front of him, so he doesn’t start dropping profanities at church or in the grocery store. Or, more appropriately, in traffic.

I am reminded of a story told by a morning DJ a few years back. It was an idyllic weekend in the cul-de-sac and all of the neighbors were having an impromptu chat session. The DJ’s son, the tender age of two and a half, comes walking into the crowd with a squirt gun in his hand. He then yells out at the top of his lungs…(oh yeah profanity warning here!) FREEZE MOTHERFUCKERS! Needless to say the silence following was uncomfortable to say the least. Turns out he had heard this lovely language on some ‘cop show’ that had come on tv after mom and dad had fallen asleep. The ‘cop show’ in question was Oz.

SO! Here’s the list I have been compiling. Please feel free to add to it!

Holy Heckarooky!

Hideki Irabu!


Holy Crizzokies!



DooDoo Jones!

And here are a few that were submitted to my facebook page:

My wife says “sacapuntas,” which is spanish for pencil sharpener. If you say it angrily and loud, it sounds really bad. (I love this one!)

Oh Shiitake Mushrooms!

Tartar Sauce!



Well, Cheese and Rice!

Shut the front door!

Forks and Spoons!



You know you’re a grown-up when you finally realize what Yosemite Sam is saying when he starts with his patented “Rick-Racken-Friggle…” rants.

Share your faves down below. I’m always up for new ones!

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One Response

  1. brittany eaton

    my husband always drops the GD..THE MOTHER LOAD if you will..then it started bothering me alot, especially whenever i heard this one..”Jesus H. Christ, brittany! are you really blah blah blah..damnit..blah blah blah..mother fucker!”..so this is how we now keep it “Disney” in our home..whenever the good lords name is about to be dropped in vain we say “holy beejeebus!” now for the mother fucker in all of us we say “mother trucker!” sadly, we live in Oklahoma so on occasion the Nword has been muttered a few times I.E traffic jams caused by a cow..the cow in point being the Nword. How to translate it to where the kiddo wont repeat it..we call it a nagger 🙂


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