Bathroom Monologue: Pejoratives and Profane Exclamations

My language is too vulgar. Too much television and fatigue has worn my vocabulary to a nub, and a particularly tiny nub when I'm angry. I say "fuck" way too often. There are "fuck" situations, but hitting the wrong button on the remote, stubbing my toe and forgetting where I parked in a six-row lot just don't qualify. Further, "fuck" is bland even when it's appropriate. Anybody can yell it in any situation, and these days they do. It's played out. So's "fucker" and "motherfucker." They're lame insults, especially the last, which could technically synonymous with "dad." Imagine screaming "Dad! You dad! You God damned dad!" at someone for cutting you off in traffic. It's poor semantics.

If an undead serial killer comes through my campsite, I don't want to be the lame villain that exclaims, "Fuck!" before he's beheaded. No. I want to look up into his hockey mask, and in total terror of his machete, bellow, "What in the blue blazes?"

That would be class. I'm bringing back the blue blazes. I used it this afternoon when the delivery men didn't show up until 2:00. It was satisfying. If I ever back into the garage door, I'm totally using it again.

The next one I'm looking to work into my routine is, "Good God and His all-girl orchestra!" Admittedly more syllables than, "Holy shit," but more worthwhile, don't you think? Somebody's grandma falls skating, breaks a hip, and out comes "Good God and His all-girl orchestra!"

Personal pejoratives, like the dad-synonym, will also get packed up in favor of new stock. The next guy who cuts me off in traffic is getting the middle finger and a resounding, "Buffoon! Sunday driver!" Sunday driver, even if it's not Sunday. In fact, especially if it's not Sunday.

"Galoot," "hooligan," and "tinkerbell" will follow "buffoon" in rotation. I'm working on a particularly condescending "tinkerbell" that should cut those hooligans to the quick.

"Crap fire and save matches!" is also coming back, if I can just find the right opportunity.

It doesn't have to be original. It has to be fresh. I need to feel like I'm exercising a little know-how and intellect in my cussing. There's an aesthetic to it, don't you think? If you sat down to breakfast and a car blew up across the street, you'd be very shaken. But if you sat down to that same breakfast, heard the same car blow up, and had your buddy jump up from the table screaming, "Jesus Crispies and the Sugar-Frosted Apostles!" it might just be the highlight of your day.