My Favorite Curse

OK, I have something I'd like to get off my chest right away. Fuck is my favorite swear word. (Not that this is news to you reading the blog.) I love it, and I use it a lot. I use it when I'm walking the dog and she decides to roll around in a giant fucking mud puddle. I use it when I stand waiting for the bus for 20 minutes and realize as it pulls up that I don't have enough fucking change. I use it at work when the fucking copy machine jams over and over and over again. (Actually, that particular use got me in trouble--the receptionist heard me swearing at the copier and complained to the HR director, who then gave me a "stern talking-to" about my use of language. Guess how well that took.) I swear so much that when I forwarded a joke message (from my dad, no less) about swearing at work, my office mate picked out at least five phrases I use regularly.

What's the point? Just be prepared for f-bombs, that's all I'm sayin.