Since my daughter Allie was born, well, since she started talking, my husband Adam and I decided that we probably needed to quit dropping the F-bomb so frequently.
It wasn’t really something we dropped in public. It was more like a “to each other” type of thing, to enhance the WTF value of a story. How can you have a broad spectrum of WTF value without the F? You can’t. Without the F-bomb, you just have the WT. “WHAT THE” is not effective enough for me. I need the F-bomb on the end of it to truly embrace the happenings of my life.
Anyway, in a sick resort to being able to yell fuuuuuck in the way that Michael Scott from The Office might yell it, we started cursing in acronyms. It’s very teenager-ish. Very text message-ish. Very -ish, in general.
One prime example of it is screaming BMFD. Big mother f*cking deal.
How can you use BMFD, you ask?
“We’re out of canned tomatoes,” says Adam to me. “BMFD! BMFD!” I scream in return, because seriously, big mother f*cking deal.
Another great cursing acronym floating around our house is TMFS. TMFS stand for Tou- Mother-f*cking-Che. It’s touché with mother-f*cking stuck in the middle. Classy, I know. And sure, touché is spelled with a “c,” but adding the “s” to the acronym instead of the c is way funnier.
Example of usage: “Your facial hair looks stupid,” I say to Adam “TMFS!”
Second example of usage: “Why can’t you put down the toilet seat?” I ask Adam. “Why can’t you stand up and pee?” he asks in return. “TMFS!”
And yeah. That is my life in a nutshell. I’ll be spending the remainder of my night shining my mother of the year trophy, because clearly, I deserve one.