Friday, December 26, 2008

My favorite four-lettered word is not "L-O-V-E"

Fuck.

Fuck is a good word, a solid word. A word that covers most all parts of speech--noun, verb, adjective. I've been using this word a lot lately--at least in my head if not out loud--New York is finally beginning to seep into my skin as I find myself stomping rapidly down the sidewalk, weaving my way in and out of the crowd thinking, "fucking tourists!"

I don't quite understand why certain phrases using "fuck" developed. But I sometimes find myself, almost gleefully, spouting them off in tandem, particularly "what the fuck". For example, what the fuck was I fucking thinking moving to New York 22, jobless and with a boy who has a history of leaving? Equally good, although perhaps less applicable in all situations, are "how the fuck?" and "why the fuck?" Phrases such as these are exceptionally effective when used in quick succession: Why the fuck did I think New York would ever be a good idea? How the fuck did I plan to survive without a job or a backup plan? I must have hit my head hard and suffered some brain trauma, that is the only possible way to explain what the fuck I was thinking! See? It's good, right?

And of course, there is the ubiquitous "fuck you". Shout it right now as loud as you possibly can! Doesn't that feel good? Although, now my coworkers are looking at me like I may have officially lost my mind. So now to each of them, "Fuck you, you and you!" Fuck you is really fun when the person you are screaming it at doesn't expect it--you get to watch the range of emotions flitter across their face--at first doe-eyed and incredulous, then crestfallen, then livid. Try it on a perfect stranger on your way home from work tonight. It's fun, you'll see. Congratulations, you have just effectively ruined someones day! Its a glorious feeling isn't it?

To those assholes in the subway that are obviously newly in love and canoodling on the seat in a way that verges almost on pornographic, I scream, "Fuck you!" To that bitch down at the end of the bar that is talking loudly to no one in particular about the boy that she is pretty sure will ask her out any day now, "Fuck you!" To that prick on the subway every morning that leers at me like he's seen me naked before, "Fuck you!" I dare you to approach me, I dare you to ask me out, you will see what happens--you will become what the Italians like to refer to as a castrato.

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