I spend a lot of time on the internet.
I know you can’t tell that based upon the infrequence of my posting lately, but it’s the truth.
Right now, in fact, I feel like I’m living on the internet – I’m deep in the research of the book I’m starting for NaNoWriMo (yeaaaah, baby – who is doing it with me?) I’m trying to make the scientific portion of it sound like I gave it at least a little bit of thought, so that entails me browsing here and there, looking up various items and cherry-picking scientific sounding facts to make shapeshifters sound scientific.
Anyways, all this to say, I stumbled upon this:
Look, if you’re offended by bad language, PLEASE do not go there. It’s exactly what it says it is: a Periodic Table of Swearing. I don’t know what I was expecting, clicking on it. It was exactly what it advertised.
I admit that glancing through everything made me feel like a naughty child – I tittered like an ill-behaved junior higher.. It’s British cussing, and half the words on there just don’t sound bad to me at all.
Is it just me, or is British cussing just cooler and less gross sounding?
See? Technically I know I’m cussing, but it just doesn’t feel like cussing.
Anyways, the website has some really dignified classical music playing as background sound, which just made the whole thing inherently funnier.
I took a moment to scowl at the dirty words before returning to my knitting (everyone who isn’t my mom: I totally read all the dirty words.)
read through it scowled, The DragonMonkey played quietly at my feet – slowly assembling a tractor from spare lego parts. Lately he’s just been impressing the heck out of me – I didn’t even realize he was old enough to play with legos, much less make actual vehicles. Time flies, you know?
Anyways, I digress. Right before I clicked off to go back to my research, I randomly clicked on the page, just because.
And you know what? My click was rewarded – it turns out the page is interactive. In retrospect, I realize it says it right on the entry page… but I’ve never been one to notice details like that, at least not consciously.
As I clicked, over the strains of violins and cellos rose the electronic sound of man’s voice:
“CUNT,” the man said, in a smooth British accent.
At the sound of his voice the DragonMonkey stopped his play, and looked up at me with an angelic smile.
“CUNT,” the DragonMonkey repeated, in a perfectly serviceable British accent. He nodded, smiled wider, and repeated it again proudly. “CUNT.”
And then he went back to his legos.
I’m sure this isn’t going to bite me in the arse later… right?