Apparently, I’ve managed to tick off a whole lot of people with my language yesterday. One commented anonymously, the rest emailed. Anonymously. Yes, Internet Bravery at its finest.
Look, I dropped the F-bomb. Repeatedly. I was seriously ticked off, and understandably so. I apologize for offending anyone, but that doesn’t also mean that I am sorry.
I swear sometimes.
So do a lot of people. They’re just words. If I’d called the thief a “dootyhead” it would have carried the same weight and merit as calling him an assmunch. It’s the intent, not the word. And my intent was not to be sweetness and light. It was to demonstrate that I am really, really upset, and more than a little bit frustrated. Actually, I’m on the edge of feeling violently angry. Violently. I don’t say that lightly.
Yet I’m not surprised that every single complaint has been anonymous.
I took flack a couple of years ago for saying the word “shitload” in a post. The world did not end, and the Internet did not implode. I will drop the F-bomb again in the future, and little children will not suddenly become possessed by Satan, nor will the entire tea-totaling squeakiness of Good crumble into the depths of depravity. Your local nun will not go Goth and get tons of tattoos.
After we discovered the car had been broken into and the stereo ripped out of the dashboard, we went inside and the Spouse Thingy called the police. He was told someone would be out soon to get a report—would someone be home? Sure, of course. We waited. And waited. And waited. We blew off doing anything for New Years Eve, and the cops never came. We waited a good part of this morning, and the cops never came. If they wanted us to go down to the station, they shoulda said. We would have.
Since we’re not filing an insurance claim—why bother—we don’t need a police report. We called because it was the Right Thing To Do. Or so we assumed.
I doubt I’ll replace the stereo.
I doubt now that I’ll get the struts fixed.
In fact, I don’t even want the car anymore. It’s been nothing but grief from the get go.
Yep, you can want something your entire life, and then have it suck mightily when you finally get it.
So. Yeah. I’m not honestly sorry I spewed forth with offensive language yesterday. I am sorry if anyone was genuinely upset by it. I can assure you, it’ll happen again.