Today in the grocery store I went to put the only perfect, unbruised green pepper in the grocery bin into a produce bag when it slipped through a hole in the plastic and went down to splat on the filthy orange tile below.
There's only one thing to say when that happens:
Well, I wanted to say something else, but I was in a public place, and Ainsley was with me, so "Frick!" had to do.
It occurred to me on the ride home that "F___" may be one of my favorite words. In some situations, it just feels good to let the F bomb drop. In some situations, it really is the only word that will work, that will vent the frustration and anger. For me, anyway. But I always was, and always will be, a closet potty mouth.
Here are some times when only a good "F___" will do.
Stubbing your toe on your bedpost during a 3am trip to the bathroom.
Realizing on your way to the kitchen first thing in the morning that that noise you heard some time in the night was the cat yacking up a hairball; of course, you learned this because you stepped in it with your bare foot.
Arriving home from a colossal grocery trip in 95-degree weather to realize that all those people in your neighborhood running the AC has caused the electricity to blip out, meaning you can't get in through the garage, meaning you have to park the car in the driveway and haul 20 bags of perishables and a case of Bud Select (which seemed like a swell idea at the time) up an extra flight of steps just to get to the front door.
Getting all the way to the front door of your library/office/workplace and remembering you left your work keys on the kitchen table.
Seeing water come from anything in your house besides a faucet.
Dropping the very last homemade chocolate chip cookie on your kitchen floor as you were bringing it to your mouth a bite.
Hearing a gag, a splat, and a "Mommy!" at 2am.
Dropping a DVD case into the return slot at Blockbuster only to realize, the moment it has irretrievably left your hand, that the DVD itself is still a 15-minute drive away in your DVD player.
Hitting "Send" on a snarky email you wrote to a coworker in reply to an asinine email your boss sent, only to realize you might have hit "Reply to all."
Tell me, f&^$ing readers: What triggers your F bombs?