It had snowed and I couldn’t get my foot into my boot because of the fucking leg corset.
Boots
That’s how yesterday started. It finished with a $2,025 puncture in each hip and chakra workshop. Just a regular Friday.
You would think if I was going to pay someone over $4,000, pull my pants down, and let them take pictures and a video I would have walked away with something rather exciting and completely unsuitable for this family-friendly blog. I’m not completely ruling out such experiences, but that’s another post.
Snow
Yep, snow.
So. Yesterday was approximately 4years in the making. It started with our hero as a fearless badass yoga teacher, it involved:
Twelve Burly ER dudes
Eleven ER visits
Ten Shots of Fentanyl
Nine Thousand Needles
Eight Hundred X-Rays
Seven Special Lawyers
Six Ortho Surgeons
FIVE Ambulance Rides (with Hip dislocations)
Four Pitiless PTs
Three Sets of Crutches
Two Chiropractors
And One Fucking Leg Corset
I know, now you’ve got a Christmas song stuck in your head. Sorry. Who am I kidding? Totally not, sorry, cuz it’s kinda catchy. You’re welcome.
The story is not over, but our hero through it all remained a Badass yoga teacher and also managed to complete a 500Hour Yoga Teacher Training, a Personal Training Certification, a Life Coaching Certification, a Trauma-Informed Yoga Training, Mother Fucking Firewalked with Tony Robbins, started teaching in Cook County Jail (occasionally on crutches with aforementioned fucking leg corset), got sacked 1.5 times, hired 10+ times, broke up 5x, got back together 4x, and continues to have fabulous adventures and hang with a bodacious bunch of Badasses.
Wings
This kid
Bones, for the win
Fancy clothes
These students
Actually teaching
Sidekick
I got this
THESE students
The Jail
F@cking Leg Corset
There’s more, so much more, so you’ll have to stay tuned if you want to hear about the Mustang Convertible in Arizona, Osteostrong, Several Sets of Wings, Art, Truffle fries and Hamilton.
Topic 1: Not Remotely Zen and the Art of Automotive Maintenance
Be wary of Google maps when they suggest a ‘faster route’ to your swanky restaurant date with your daughters (one cooking for you, one eating with you).
Faster routes in Google maps can mean potholes the size of large bowling balls.
Potholes the size of large bowling balls can mean tire blowouts/flats in questionable parts of Chicago at night.
When changing a post pothole the size of a large bowling ball tire in questionable parts of Chicago at night be sure to turn your car lights off so the battery doesn’t get drained.
When changing a tire at night in a questionable part of Chicago saying ‘Ok Google turn on flashlight’ to your phone works better that ‘Ok Google where the fuck is the flashlight?’ – the second will have Google autocorrect ‘fuck’ to ‘phone your ex who told you to stop swearing so much’ and no good will come from THAT conversation.
When flat tires won’t come off even though you’ve removed all the goddamn lugnuts and pulled as hard as you can, you can try calling AAA, and you can try the police to help – because questionable area – but do not try this on the night the Cubs get into the World’s Series, because all of the police are at Wrigleyville and not in your questionable part of Chicago.
When flat tires won’t come off, even though you’ve done every bloody thing correctly and you’re going to be late to your reservation using ‘Very Loud Creative Swears’ whilst yanking on the motherf’ing tire will, in fact remove the flat tire and send you a few feet back with a filthy tire on your trendy, I’m going to a swanky restaurant outfit and your ass on the equally filthy roadside, but you won’t care, because pulling that motherf’cker off was extremely satisfying.
Once a goddamn flat tire is finally off the car, two motivated women can get a spare tire on in less than two minutes because Bitches Get Stuff Done and there was a swanky restaurant waiting for us.
And just in case handling a flat Like A Boss wasn’t satisfying enough, the Chef comes out to greet us personally and gives us a tour of the kitchens because besides being cool and badasses, we also love eating exceptional food.
Topic 2: Dating or Dr. Really Strangelove and How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb
Never date musicians
No good has ever come from dating a musician, so when screening potential dates ask first if they can play an instrument.
Playing piano might be okay, but plays electric guitar in a band is RIGHT out – do not walk, RUN away.
Never date Scorpios
I’m certain there are some very lovely Scorpio men out there, but do not date them. Scorpio in any part of their chart, just to be safe. Scorpio Moons especially no.
No more Latino men – no, no, no, no, and Hell no. Write this down, because apparently this is a smooth spot in your brain – NO Latino men. Mexican, Peruvian, Ecuadorian, Spanish doesn’t manner, don’t do it. It will never end well.
Catholic Latino men who adore their mother. Just don’t. You can’t even. You will never ever even. You will be switched from Madonna to Whore and back so many times you will get whiplash. You will swear too much, smile too little, never cook as well, be respected too much or way too little. You will never be good enough. This is a fact, at least for you, it is a fact. For the love of your remaining sanity and shattered ego, don’t go there.
Scorpio Latino Musician? Run.
Never date Irishmen, especially if they’re poets. No good ever came from dating an Irish poet. Write that down in your journal till you remember it.
Basically dating is a bad idea. Dating will invariably lead to adding another category to the list of men you are never to date again.
You might think being a yoga teacher with long curly hair would attract suitable men to date, it does not. It does however, attract all manner of suggestions regarding flexibility and comments about anatomy.
Topic 3: Approaching Interesting Men with Beards in restaurants
DO IT. They could turn out to be a really cool band and invite you to come do yoga with them and go to their gigs
Do not date them – see above. Hang with them, do yoga with them, be generally be cool around them.
Topic 4: Retail / Food therapy or Eat, Read, Love
Buy the sweater, it will be warm and soft and gorgeous, feel like a hug and it will never judge you, tell you to smile more or to be more ladylike.
Buy the book(s), they will be interesting, expand your thinking and always there for you and will never ignore you when you need them most.
Buy infinity scarf with e.e. cumming’s poetry i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) all over it because poetry that some men write is so much better than most men.
Reread Neruda, because poetry… so much better than actual men.
Buy the fingerless gloves with that section from Wuthering Heights that you love because well-written words, so much better than…. men.
Buy dessert, eat it whenever the fuck you want, and love every moment of eating it, because life is short and often needs chocolate. Also chocolate never judges you, ever.
Movies – Go to them. Find a friend, go alone. Put butter on your popcorn, eat it all. Movies where the creeptastic man meets a very satisfying end are especially good.
Also, yoga. Do some yoga, get sweaty, fall on your ass, get up again. Repeat.
Last week I had a small issue with my garbage collection. It was actually more of a collect some of it, dump some of it on the street and leave most of it behind. Oh, and then drive over what was left behind making sure it was impossible to pull my car out without driving over it again. Let me tell you there is nothing I enjoy more than cleaning up garbage that I have already cleaned up right when I need to leave for work.
If only there was a way to actually express how that felt…..
Well! Gee Willikers and Jiminey Cricket!!
Jeepers, somehow that just wasn’t satisfying, and wait, it’s also taking the Lord’s name in vain
gee willikers a humorous or outdated extension of gee, which is a euphemism for Jesus. Gee willikers, that wind’s a-blowin’!
#gee #geez #sheesh #jeepers
I love you Debra
Holy filet of fuck-minion!
Feckin’ flesh-turd dropped stinking from the poxy arsehole of a hare-lipped harlot!
– Christopher Moore
There, that’s a little better.
Once again I was told to stop swearing and to be a Lady by a man who uses fuck like a comma.
So, for all the well-intentioned people who have told me to act more lady-like, this badger-shagging spunk monkey of a fucking blog is just for you.
As The Vagenda’s Holly Baxter explainedin the summer: “Women are routinely told to hold themselves back and pay special concern to their language. It’s a foundation for real misogyny.”
Some people will continue to believe that swear words are unladylike. Others will claim, like (Quentin)Letts (who wrote of Dame Helen Mirren “blurt[ing] out filth like an uneducated trollop.”), that they indicate a lack of education, intellect or imagination. To those, I present some of my favourite words: Cackle. Hoodwink. Loquacious. Pusillanimous. Vernacular. Galumph. Because, if using a singular monosyllabic curse is unimaginative, or unladylike, then maybe we should dress it up a little. Put a metaphorical tiara on that obscenity, if it’s so deeply unfeminine. – Alice Vincent
So why would a well read and well educated modern woman feel the need to use profanity? Perhaps it is because I am well read and educated.
In th’ isle of Britain, long since famous grown
For breeding the best cunts in Christendom,
There reigns, and oh! long may he reign and thrive,
The easiest King and best-bred man alive.
Him no ambition moves to get renown
Like the French fool, that wanders up and down
Starving his people, hazarding his crown.
Peace is his aim, his gentleness is such,
And love he loves, for he loves fucking much.
– John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester
Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting oan a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shiteing yersel in a home, a total fuckin embarrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye’ve produced. Choose life.
– Trainspotting, by Irvine Welsh
And maybe, just maybe there are a few really good reasons for women to swear.
Women have far better things to do than express their frustration in a way that’s pleasing to patriarchal values. Today’s most offensive swear word comes from what’s between our legs – so surely we should best how to use it?
“I personally have a cunt. Sometimes it’s ‘flaps’ or ‘twat’, but most of the time, it’s my cunt. Cunt is a proper, old, historic, strong word. I like that my fire escape also doubles up as the most potent swearword in the English language. Yeah. That’s how powerful it is, guys. If I tell you what I’ve got down there, old ladies and clerics might faint. I like how shocked people are when you say ‘cunt’. It’s like I have a nuclear bomb in my pants, or a tiger, or a gun.
Compared to this the most powerful swear word men have got out of their privates is ‘dick’, which is frankly vanilla… I love that ‘cunt’ stands, on its own, as the supreme unvanquishable word. It has almost mystic resonance. It is a cunt – we all know it’s a cunt – but we can’t call it a cunt. We can’t say the actual word. It’s too powerful…”― Caitlin Moran, How to Be a Woman
Beyond classical literature, feminist empowerment, fighting the fuckwitted patriarchy there are many good reasons to swear.
TOP TEN REASONS TO SWEAR LIKE A LADY
It’s fun and it can be funny. Try saying badger-shagging spunk monkey without at least a smirk.
It makes TV shows and movies more engaging. Who doesn’t love Samuel L. Fucking Jackson? More profanity equals more viewers. Not shitting you – Ask Monika Bednarek senior lecturer in linguistics at the University of Sydney, ‘The Wire’ outranked other comparable shows because it “averaged more than 100 instances of profanity per episode”
It improves communication. By swearing, we not only communicate the meaning of a sentence but also our emotional reaction to it. It clearly lets someone know if they need to back off without having to resort to physical violence, and nobody wants to mess up a manicure when a well placed “back off you fucktarded asshat” will do.
It’s more persuasive. Studies have shown that swearing can increase the effectiveness and persuasiveness of a message. It is an intense, succinct and powerful way of expressing yourself. Ever read Go the Fuck to Sleep? It’s succinct.
It increases pain tolerance. Stub your toe and see how effective Rats! feels compared to Sweet muppity mother of Christ!!! Also, there are like 5 billion studies by real scientists backing this up. No, I’m not fucking linking all them, JFGI yourself. Okay, here’s one.
It correlates with a higher vocabulary. No, I did not just make this up, read this published the journal of Language Science. They concluded the people who could recall a lot of swear words also tended to be more eloquent in general.
It’s good for you. Health benefits of swearing include increased circulation, elevated endorphins, and an overall sense of calm, control, and well-being.
It means you’re creative. Fuck can be used as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective and interjection and it still makes fucking sense.
It’s cheaper than therapy and makes you feel better immediately.
Speaking of increased vocabulary, there are many British terms one can substitute and sound more cultured than crude. For example – “Yer fulla shite ye feckin’ arsehole” is a fancier way of saying “You’re full of shit you fucking asshole”. Options people, you always have options.
Creative swearing aside, I still know how to behave in polite society. I will not go all Pulp Fiction in front of your kids or when I meet your mother, unless she starts it, then we’ll probably get along famously. I am in complete control of my vocabulary, and would only say ‘fucknuggets’ when it is truly warranted. I have never said “shitgoose” or “Jesus Christ monkey balls” at church or a PTA meeting.
Just in case you were looking to expand your swearing vocabulary I’ve added some of my favourites, guaranteed to fill any swear jar
jerkwater
jerkpants
sassy jerk pants
quim
bitchenator
dickwhistle thundertwat
Sugar tits
Clusterfuck
Twat waffle
Motherfuckinator
Assclown
Silly Bunt
Turd burglar
Sweet muppity Christ
Fucktard
Fuckwit
Son of a shit biscuit
Wanker (what one does before tossing)
Tosser (what one does after a wank)
Interminable suck bastard
spank wanker
Holy filet of fuck-minion
Fucknuggets
Fuckstockings
Knob, knobend, knobhead, knobber
Ass jar
Ass hat
Gobshite
Shitehawk
Bag o’ shite
Bollocks
Cack-Handed (full of shite)
Bellend (head of a penis)
Bibbity bobity poop sac
Bastardised fuckwitted vagina captain
Flatulent bottom feeding wrangler
Monkey wanker
Bollocks
Sod Off
Feck Off
Hell’s own bunghole.
Badger-shagging spunk monkey
Bum tumpet
Fiery flagon of dragon toss
and from Christopher Moore’s “Fool”
“She can be a whirlwind of tits and terror when she puts her mind to a purpose, can’t she, sir?”
“You whoreson scalawag!” said I. “You flesh-turd dropped stinking from the poxy arsehole of a hare-lipped harlot!”
“Oh, we are but soft and squishy bags of mortality rolling in a bin of sharp circumstance, leaking life until we collapse, flaccid, into our own despair..”
“Love? Sodding, bloody, tossing, bloody, sodding, bloody love? Irrelevant, superfluous, bloody, ruddy, rotten, sodding love? What ho? Wherefore? What the f*ck? Love?”