F-bombs fly from my mouth like nukes from Iran. There seems to be a continuous barrage of them lately. "Do you hear yourself?" says my delicate-flower side to my truck-drivin’ side. “Aren’t you kind of chronologically advanced to be using the F-word all the time? Shouldn’t someone with your vocabulary and savoir faire show a little more, uh, class?” But before my inner trucker can back up, a huge idea hits me head on. I'll start using the word “fork” instead.
“That’s forkin’ brilliant!” I exclaim to myself. Not only will I clean up my mouth, I'll brand myself! What better way to tell the world you’re a foodie (and to please read my blog) than to use the word “fork” 300 times a day! All it will require is a little cerebral retraining. Granted, my retention has nosedived faster than a 98-year-old off his Aricept, but I should be able to master one new cognitive function, right? Won’t it merely entail a Find and Replace?
I tried to kick the habit several years ago after the flower successfully convinced the trucker it was time for an image overhaul. But when I accidentally let one slip in my workplace, I heard a 20-something say, “Adair says f**k? Cool!” That’s when the trucker plowed full-speed-ahead and never looked back. Hey, it was a career move.
But now I'm in flower mode again, and it's time to eschew the crass for some class. I considered not posting this, in the likelihood it will diminish my brand. But then I thought, “Fork it!”