The F-word

5 stars bc ‘it’ captures your frustration, etc, at x, y, or z perfectly! I actually get relief from dropping the f bomb!
I justify my mouth by saying I don’t have any or many — other vices.
My kids know not to say it. My son is like the cursing patrol though, which annoys me ;)
Im a good person, mom, girlfriend, daughter, employee and more. I’deserve’ this fantastic word in my vocabulary!
Don’t correct my cursing please or you can go …

I use this word more than most I would imagine. I *try* to curb it at key times. You know, like at work and in front of kiddies, including my own child. Since other reviewers have talked about the versatility of the word and its many uses, I will shy away from talking about this. My use here recently is specifically about the number of geese/​ducks that walk/​fly around Greensboro and act like they don’t see anything around them. Since Unilocal is about an actual experience, here is mine. So let us talk about these fowl creatures (that was clever wasn’t it).
Why is it every May/​June I have to walk outside and find bird shit all over my car? It never fails. Every time I am sitting on my couch or laying in my bed and hear geese fly over with their «wonk wonk» noise, I think to myself, «Great, what’s the damage?» To make matters worse, I woke up this morning and there was fecal matter all over one of my bedroom windows. Really? How the hell do they do this? They can relieve themselves horizontally? They can time their bodily functions like a damn drive by shooting? I am convinced that they land close to the window and back that ass up on it while girating just to gunk it up even more. I am also convinced that they are part of an evil cult and they scheme to do all of this. Somewhere Pinky and the Brain are laughing as this is part of their plan to take over the world.
It doesn’t stop there. When these creatures get together and cross a street, you best believe you will be sitting in your car, perhaps in a line of cars, waiting for them to cross. You can tell that they have this arrogant aura about them too as they cross. «Yep, these bitches are gonna wait until we all cross. Beeping horns ain’t got shit on me.» So I hope you brought some tunes, a magazine, or any other means of passing time while waiting on these GD birds to cross the road. Thanks for wasting ten minutes of my life and making me late to wherever I am going. And of course they do this in the busiest intersections known to man. You know, like at Bridford Parkway/​Wendover. Is there a sale on goose food at Target or Walmart? Why are they there?
Ok. This brings me to the whole point of this post… the F word. Having said all this:
FUCK A DAMN DUCK.
Ok, I feel better. Carry on…

My fucking redneck ass loves Unilocal…
I fucking love guns and 4×4 trucks and gas guzzling hotrods, redmeat and seafood.
I am tired of all the fucking dumb shit drives in Western Washington.
I fucking hate over educated people that ain’t got no fucking common sense.
We need to fucking loosen gun laws to keep the fucking herd of stupid humans thinned out.
We need to fucking start punching each other in the fucking face again and take fucking responsibility for your fucking actions you fucking jackass.
People need to stop being so fucking selfish.
Give a fuck about your neighbors.
That all got say for fucks sake.

OMFG! There’s a F*ckin Business Profle for F*ck! (Srsly, No F*ck!)
[Figures those f*ckers in Seattle would f*ckin start this f*ckin business profile — dam grungy hipsters — *cough* (and just f*ckin ignore the fact I’m from the f*ckin Emerald City).] ;^)
F*CKIN-SITREP
WTF? How many f*ckin times have you f*ckin wanted to f*ckin blurt out, «F*ck You!, you F*ckin F*ck!!»? (I’m not f*ckin with you, I really wanna f*ckin know).
Well now you can f*ckin write a f*ckin review on how f*ckin much you f*ckin LOVE the f*ckin «F-​word». Ain’t that freakin great?
F*CKIN SETUP
I f*ckin THINK I first f*ckin heard the f*ckin F-​word in frakkin Elementary School. In f*ckin Fourth Grade. I had a f*ckin crush on Kathleen, and she told me «FUCK YOU!» and f*ckin slapped me on the f*ckin face when I f*ckin told her. *OW*
F8ckin funny thing was, a f*cking week later, she f*ckin dragged me into the f*cking coat closet and f*cking started kissin on me (which was f*ckin cool, but got us in f*cking trouble with the freakin teacher, the frakkin school and our f*ckin parents).
[ A F*CKIN MAN OF F*CKIN SENSITIVITY
However, if I may digress for a brief moment, I think if you really wish to impress a lady, you will not pepper your language with the F-​Bomb, because, well, it’s rather gauche. That being said, let’s move on. ]
F*CKTARD
In talking about the F-​word, I don’t think we can get away from also talking about those f*ckin idiots we have to deal with sometimes on a f*ckin daily basis: the F*CKTARD.
First, to define «F*cktard» (a noun), we are describing a person of unbelievable, inexcusable and indescribable stupidity. (Stupidity being defined as «f*ckin knowing how and doing it the f*cking wrong way anyway»)
Second, and equally important, «F*cktard» is NOT a contraction for «F*cking Retard». Those who are truly «Retarded» (to use the old Unpolitically Correct terminology for what is now often described as «Mentally and/​or Developmentally Challenged») are not responsible for their affliction.
Thus, true F*cktards are 100% responsible for their situation and provide vast entertainment as they are usually blissfully unaware of their own F*ctardery. [Most politicians, for example.]
THE F*CKIN LOWDOWN
I’d f*ckin do it f*ckin all over again, you *f*ckin f*ck!

I’ll never forget the first time I heard my dad utter the F word. I was maybe 14 and we had just taken a large contingent of guests to the train and it had taken two cars to get everyone to the station, which is why my mom was following my dad in her car. I was in the front passenger seat of our early 70s Oldsmobile Cutlass station wagon. My god those were big cars – with a big V8 under the hood. As I think back to it, it would have been nearly impossible for my dad to avoid the speed trap waiting for him as he came down the overpass which created an artificial transition between the town and the old interstate. I have no idea what the speed limit was and I have no idea at what speed we were traveling, but I know that those two numbers were widely incompatible – and that was the message from the trooper who pulled us over.
Now remember, my mom was following my dad in her car and in hindsight it seems to me that mom had two options, the first being to continue on home and give my dad shit when he returned. This probably would have been the best decision. The other option, which she inexplicably selected was to pull over too.
Maybe it was a show of solidarity.
Maybe she was worried. Or angry.
Or, maybe she was simply amused and wanted relish the moment.
It doesn’t really matter. There she was parked behind the trooper and my dad was pissed. Come to think of it, the trooper was none too happy about her being there either.
Dad: «I don’t know what the hell she thinks she’s doing. I wish she’d just go the FUCK home.»
Me (thoughts taking place in my head): «He said fuck. Oh my god he said fuck. Don’t laugh. Don’t! Laugh! DON’T LAUGH!!!»
At which point I turned toward the passenger side window, plastered myself against the glass and commenced biting my lip so hard that I’m surprised I have a lower lip even to this day.
Of course that was a different time. Language, especially «naughty» language was scary and forbidden. I remember reading an article about the astronauts from Apollo 13 who in the heat of the moment let a «shit» or two fly over the air. Some evangelical preacher demanded that the White House refuse to honor the astronauts and their heroism because they cursed. Unfuckingbelivable.
Today, at least in my house and with my peers and their families, we have a more casual, even comfortable relationship with words. I drop the f-​bomb in front of my children and they drop it in front of me and you know what, no one has died. No one has flunked school or gone to jail. Sure there’s a time and a place for everything and to me that’s the bottom line: Is it appropriate?
And when it’s appropriate, the F word is awesome.
Over time even my dad came to have a more comfortable relationship with the word fuck. I don’t think he used it often, but when he did, it wasn’t a revelation for me and I didn’t have to worry about sacrificing my lip upon the alter of «do not laugh».
Times have changed and that’s a fucking good thing.

I drop the F-​bomb on the reg. It’s a fucking great word. I wish it was allowed without cheating on Unilocal talk, but whatever. I’ll cheat if my point needs to get across. If you don’t like it get off the interwebs.

I can’t begin to fathom a life without fuck. Fuck, you complete me.

I love the F-​Word. I think it may be the most versatile of all the curse words.
Jesus Fuckin’ Christ.
What the fuck
I want to fuck you.
Fuck you, you fuckin fucker!
I mean, what other fuckin word is so fuckin’ versatile as the fuckin F-​word?

As good as it gets to Fuck!
The F-​Word can be the perfect word to just get your point across. It can be a verb, noun, and an adjective.
«I want to Fuck you!»
«I hate your Fucking 50yr old ex who is a fucking physco stalker who is 14yrs younger than you that doesn’t have a life who holds a fucking job that should be more conscience to his fucking image.»
«How can you date that fucking grandpa? Eeww fuck, he is so fucking old looking, so fucking gross!»
«I Fucking love you»
«You are a fucking, Fucktard, Fucker!»
«Go Fuck yourself!»
Life isn’t a peach, so sometimes we need to drop the F-​word!

Love the F-word.there are not too many that can take it’s place. You can use it in all kinds of situations, to describe all kinds of different emotions. I just love it… and use it, probably more than I should. but oh well, when the fuck fits, use it!

Sometimes, you just gotta fucking drop that shit.