Giant F-Bomb Alert – Seriously

I’ve never had a warning at the start of a blog to actually ward people off, but tonight’s post needs a big, fat “L” for language. So, please, if you are one of my young relatives who’ve never heard me curse or a co-worker who would look at me differently tomorrow – please stop reading now.

And know that I believe there is no such thing as a “bad” word – after all, Shakes told us a long time ago that “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” I’d like to add that there are some words that most perfectly express how one is feeling by intonation and intent, no matter who deems them “offensive.”

Before you go – in tribute to a great blogger and her friend, check out Clusterfook and SecondHand Tryptophan. And not just today’s posts, but all of them to learn about these folks. There are some amazing humans out there if you surf long enough.

Now, seriously – if you are one who will be offended for whatever reason by reading my use of the infamous F-Bomb – then please surf along and I’ll be sure to post another happy-go-lucky, f-bomb-free entry soon enough.

Are they gone? Did they click away as they were told to? Are those left ones who understand that sometimes there is only one glorious word that can adequately express a feeling – whether it be joy or torment? Well, good because I would just like to say:


And un-fucking-fortunately, this fucking use of the perfect fucking word is not being uttered in any realm of fucking joy.

It is not even being fucking used about my own fucking life.


I learned tonight that a fellow blogger who also happens to be one kick-ass human from all fucking blog-accounts that I can tell is about to die from her fucking cancer. I, like anyone else who reads her blog, have known she is dying of cancer, but we literally were told tonight that the end is fucking any day now.

I do not know this person. I have only recently even become acquainted with her blog, and yet, I’m fucking pissed that fucking cancer is about to fucking take her from the world we know so fucking early.

I fucking hate cancer. It has taken quite a few in my family alone.

Not sure why I feel the fucking need to rant on about this, but I am fucking saddened by this turn of events for this woman. She is a wife to a great dude, like me. She has kids, like me. She loves to write whatever the fuck she wants, like me. By reading all of the comments of random viewers and more importantly the ones by her Power of Blog, she has some great fucking friends, like me.

How fucking human of me. She is the one fucking dying, and I’m fucking whining about how it effects me. You know what’s even more fucking ironic? This woman who is dying would totally understand my fucking reaction and embrace it, not judge it. We need more fucking people like her, not less.

We all have the ability to take something as fucking scary as cancer and turn it around into what it would mean in our own lives. Being human, I am fucking pissed that she has to go and leave her family and friends and blog world without her future self. Being selfishly human, it fucking scares me into thinking about my own fucking mortality and that of those I love.

But for Lisa and her family right now, it is just not fucking fair.


So, please go – visit her site. Read about her life and death. Read all the comments posted out of love for this life that is about to be over. Then kiss the ones you love and tell them that you love them. Say it often. And not just because they may get cancer some day, but because you love them and everyone deserves to hear how much they are loved…

And, please forgive my little fucking rant.

Who’s life and death is it anyway?

Not sure how to eloquently start this post, so I’ll just tell the truth.

This is not a topic I generally think about but I was listening to one of my favorite radio stations the other day, and they were discussing the recent death and funeral of Kay Yow, historic women’s basketball coach.

She apparently recorded a video that was played at her funeral and the debate was “on” as to whether or not that was appropriate.

My initial and continued reaction to the discussion was how freakin’ selfish have we become in our society to think it an intrusion for the dead person to be making remarks at her own funeral? Screw whoever said the funeral was for the living and not the dead – why does it have to be that way? After all, the star of the funeral is the one who’s life it was that ended (or transcended somewhere else) – not ours.

No matter what you believe happens to our souls when our physical body dies, the death of the physical body is nonetheless a traumatic and life-altering event to the person suffering the actual death – much more so than the one watching.

So, I would hope that we all get our big girl panties on and deal with it.

And, you know what, maybe I’ll just make that music video I’ve always wanted to and sing for all to hear after I’m gone. (To those of you that think you know my vocal capabilities – stop shuttering!) How about Feelings? Something less torturous with a twinge of irony maybe? Every Breath You Take? Maybe I’ll stadium rock it with We Will Rock You/We are the Champions? How about one that I always wished someone would sing about me anyway – What’ll I Do?

Whatever I decide – it’ll be for me, since my name will be on the program for those sitting in the audience!

(It will especially not be for Kevin Kiley who will not be invited anyway since it would be too much for him.  Michael Irvin, however, is always welcome – to my funeral or any living party. And, they know what I’m talking about.)

(PS – I tried to call in but couldn’t get through…sorry for the delay…life goes on…)