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My Favorite Spice.

May 5, 2009

There are few words that give me satisfaction like the word fuck. I don’t use it in its sexual context, oddly I get embarrassed. I use it more like a spice. It’s the paprika of my vocabulary, if you will. You know, that weird spice – you’re not sure if it really has any flavor, but it sure makes a deviled egg look better when sprinkled on top.

I’ve tried other words, like “eh”. I dig the way it sounds when Canadians use it at the end of sentences. But, let’s face it, there are even some Canadians that aren’t cool enough to pull it off. Celine Dion, for instance. Certainly not cool enough. So, me with my Texas accent and the sentence likely including the word y’all before ending with eh, it’s really more of a struggle for my vocal cords. So, it’s best to leave this one for the cool Canadians.

I do like how Bostonians use the word “wicked”. Every now and then I like to throw in a “wicked”. For example: “The new no-lace Converse low tops are wicked cute!”. It works but it just doesn’t carry the punch, the satisfaction of the word fuck. It just doesn’t roll off my tongue as easily. And besides, my original desire to include it into my vocabulary was when Ben Affleck was still without baggage. I’m over my desire to lick his wicked sexy chin. And, besides, with all the arguing we’d do about his flopping movies and the child support he’d be paying to Jennifer Garner I have a feeling the sex wouldn’t even be that wicked. What a fucking bummer.

I do really like oy vey. No, I’m not Jewish or Barbara Streisand, but I need a clean version of fuck on occasion. This works beautifully. I already don’t fit in with most of the PTA simply based on the fact that I don’t drink coffee. So, can you just imagine me with “them”, coffeeless, only out of bed because of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup my husband waved in front of my face, shouting across the karate class, “Boy! Get your toe out of your mouth and stop fucking biting your toenails off ya freak of nature!” no, this is the perfect moment for oy vey in my life, “Boy! Get your toes out of your mouth. OY VEY!” It’s ALMOST as satisfying. (This would be less interesting if it hadn’t actually happened. Perhaps I didn’t breastfeed The Boy long enough…this fixation he has with putting stuff in his mouth constantly, OY VEY!)

So fuck it is. So many ways you can use this fantastic word. I don’t know why it’s not more publicly acceptable. But, then, paprika isn’t in everyone’s spice rack either.

I like how everyone has a little something extra they bring to a conversation, whether it be a wicked or a yonder or a totally – as long as that’s not all you’re bringing to the conversation. If all you bring is paprika to a picnic, well, not even the cool Canadians want to just eat paprika at a picnic. So you have to make sure there’s some substance under your spice. And as long as you’ve made sense the rest of the time and you’re in the right company, you can always end with an oy vey, followed by a “sheesh”, for emphasis.

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