Our foul-mouthed roots:

After reading a hysterical post about the many reasons not to have children at http://jurgennation.blogspot.com//, I got to thinking about my own childhood, namely, my tireless potty mouth...as well as those of my friends, family, & husband. How did we all get to be the accomplished swearers we are today? Well, lets delve into that, shall we? A little psychotherapy for those whose words can embarrass even the crassest of longshoremen....

First up: My husband's family.
When my husband was about 9 or 10, his dad was driving him to swim practice, while also giving him a stern talking-to for swearing the night before. Suddenly, a church bus (yes, I said CHURCH bus) full of people swerved out of nowhere and cut them off. After slamming on the brakes and narrowly avoiding a major crash, my father-in-law floored the gas pedal, whipped up into the other lane right next to the bus, and flipped them the "arm-fully-extended-out-of-the-car-window" bird. If ever there was a case of "don't do as I do, do as I SAY", this was it. And on a personal note, DAMN, is my father-in-law cool.

Not to shortchange my mother-in-law, she has a great story as well.
One time, while driving my then grade school-aged husband and his older brother somewhere, she got exceptionally pissed off at the moronic driver in front of her, and crafted one of the most wonderful malapropisms I've ever heard: "Hey buddy, quit mickey-fucking around up there". My husband STILL uses this phrase to this day. (NOTE: for those of you just joining us from your Special Ed class, she accidentally combined the sayings "quit mickey-mousing around" and "quit fucking around").

Okay, my turn.
When I was a wee lass, my mother was driving in rush-hour traffic with me sitting in the back in my carseat. Some guy cut her off, and she muttered something like "nice one, dumbshit". A short while later, I helpfully pointed out "Look mama, there's another dumbshit". Thus began my career of swearing (another milestone along the way surely had to be the time when I came home from my first day of kindergarten, and told my dad that my teacher was a fuckface. I don't think I've ever seen him so surprised. Come to think of it, not long after that we entered private school.....hmmmmmm).

I will save the story about my friend Lisa's son, Miles, for either Lisa or Dawn, whoever comments first.

Ready, set, go.