Monday, November 19, 2001

Tonight's Music: Seal

I've noticed that profanity has begun to creep into my vocabulary. I attribute my recent potty mouth to the stress of shutting down our office. This, on top of my daily, self-imposed stress (get the kids up, get myself up, be on time, don't get fired, keep the house orderly and well-supplied, etc) is beginning to wear on my patience. My use of profanity implies a very base level of operation. I'm just not willing to censor myself.

The thoughts (or rudimentary meanings) behind the words "shit" and "poop" are the same, but the use of the word "poop" implies a higher level of filtering. When I am not willing to do that filtering (through lack of energy or personal choice not to) the default pops out. Normally, educated folk do not use THOSE words. When they do, it has that much more bite and zing. I don't want profanity to be a thing that people expect from me.

I am going to try to clean up my act this week by making a concerted effort to get my language out of the gutter. I'll let you know how I do.


With that much said, onto ... FUBAR.

Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition. I love this term. It's a easy-to-say acronym, it rolls off the tongue nicely, it is cryptic enough not to be readily understood by the uninitiated and carries a strong meaning. I don't often get the chance to use it, but when I do, it's a treat.

"Sorry ma'am, but your machine is FUBAR. We'll need it for a while."

"What does FUBAR mean? It's pretty technical - you probably wouldn't understand."

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