Like Button! New Curse Words for the Modern World

The traditional curses and swears just don’t do it for me anymore. Presenting new, creative curse words for our modern age.

The Hurricane

A poem about death and loss, and the hopelessness akin to enduring a hurricane when there is nothing you can do but wait it out.

Peculiar Puppy Parents and Patty

Photo by Faith McDonald on Unsplash “I never had trouble with names. You spend some time with them until you get to know them. Get to know what she’s like. Princess here? She was just so expectant to be waited upon.” Belinda cuddled her teacup poodle against her neck. “I had to name you Princess, didn’t I, sweetheart?” The dog wriggled out of Belinda’s arms and returned to the glass dish that served as her food bowl. Patty stretched over her nine month pregnant belly to pet the dog’s pink bow-covered head. The creature growled. Patty withdrew her hand and took a moment to catch her breath. Breathing was becoming her second toughest challenge. Her third challenge was to have enough energy to get out of the house to visit with friends. In six years, she had never missed Belinda’s barbeque. Not wanting to be one of those pregnant ladies, she had to get up and go. She forced herself to dress in the most flattering maternity bag-dress she had. The fifteen minutes to squeeze her swollen feet into her Keds took her last moments from any attempt at applying makeup. Her hair, brittle since the fifth month of her pregnancy, remained in a ponytail. She asked, “So I have to wait until my baby is… a teenager to name him?” “Well, you can always change his name. Like if he is very brave, you can go with maybe Danger, or Risk. Great names.” Belinda poured herself another cup of coffee. Patty could not take her eyes from the crystal-brown liquid. She hadn’t had caffeine in weeks. She couldn’t. One cup at six in the morning on Monday meant no sleep until Wednesday. She said, “I think we have to complete the birth information before I can leave the birth center.“ Belinda scoffed. “Are you sure? It would be a shame to name him Burbank or something inane when he’s really a Zippy.” “Yes, that would be a shame.” Patty rubbed her wet finger across the rim of her glass, anticipating the high-pitched whistle. Yet her finger only slid around and left drips of virgin pineapple daiquiri down the side of her glass. She pressed her lips together. “And you have had your three dogs for how long?” “Well, let’s see. Princess is thirteen. I don’t know how many knee surgeries I’ve paid for her. Just keep gluing her together. You’ll see after you have that little one. You’ll do anything to keep them alive. She almost died six times during the last surgery. And the vet comes out of the theatre and says, she’s not going to make it. And I told him, that’s my baby, you asshat. You do whatever it takes! You’ll see.” Belinda added rum to her coffee as Patty tried to recall the last time she had alcohol. Belinda said, “Skeeter is three now. I got him from the adoption place on Greco Street. You know? The one with the dog bone sign? No. Well, that’s the place. I didn’t know about it when I adopted Quest. He’s eight years old now, the cutey! Look at him sleeping! I guess you can hear him! That signature French Bulldog snore! It doesn’t bother me. I think it’s adorable. But I always recommend the place on Greco now.” Patty struggled to find anything to say. She had never adopted a pet and feigned interest with polite nods and a tight smile. All she thought about was the life inside her. This would be her first child. She and Glen had been trying for two years. She never considered knee surgeries. What could she say? That she was happily married? That she didn’t need a pet. She felt guilty that she had Glen at home. “It must be hard raising them all alone,” she offered. “Ah, the world of a single mother… Luckily you have that baby daddy of yours.” “My husband,” Patty said. She craned her neck to look out the sliding doors to see Glen on the patio. He was chatting about last night’s baseball game. She wanted to go to him, but was afraid if she stood, she would pee herself. Again. Her biggest challenge. She willed Glen to come rescue her. Belinda swallowed her sip of coffee and said, “Right. The male who put sperm in you. He seems like he’ll stay around. He isn’t even looking at Theresa. They all do. But he’s not. And I can clearly see her nipples through that shift she’s barely wearing.” From the living room, Deirdre called out, “Does Glen hit you? They all do.” “No…” Patty said. Do they all do that? Glen was a sweetheart. “Well, he will,” Deirdre said as she took the seat next to Belinda. “That’s their nature. Men. Ugh. I have no use for ‘em. You have your pet now. Just skip town.” Patty frowned. She was tired. She had to pee. Then Deirdre’s words sunk in. She said, “My baby is not a pet.” “Will you feed it?” Belinda asked. “Of course.” “Give it a place to sleep?” Belinda asked. “I don’t understand.” Patty took a sip of her daiquiri. It was too warm. Urine snuck out. She was thankful Glen had stocked up on her Depends. Belinda laughed. “Of course you understand. You’ll buy it little sweaters?” Patty agreed. Sort of. “He’ll have clothing.“ “And toys? Lots of toys?” Deirdre jumped in with her own questions. Patty thought the question ludicrous. “We already got him stuffed animals. And this beautiful mobile for his crib. With planes and birds. It plays Wonderful World.“ “Lots of squeaky toys is my advice,” Belinda said. She pursed her lips together. “They all love those.” “And you’ll train him?” Deirdre asked. “I sent both my rotties for training. It’s imperative. You don’t want your little bastard biting people.” “Imperative? Like school?” Patty asked. “They have trainers for humans?” Deirdre asked. “School.” Patty had, in the past, wondered why Deirdre never married. And why

Pain in the Wind: Cherished Moments of Delicious Relief

Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash Relief. Relief is the experience when something unpleasant or distressing ends. An underrated emotion, we sandwich relief between pain and joy, never resting on that moment. We skip it, preferring to whine about the forgone pain or move on to the next tribulation. But I ask: what’s better than relief? The sigh escapes your lips and you are free. You can move on. I recently experienced major relief – and got to thinking about what moments in life create that big sigh release of internal pressure. “Relief is a wonderful emotion, highly underrated. In fact, I prefer it to elation or joy. Relief lets the air out of the Tire of Pain.” — Adriana Trigiani We need to celebrate relief. So let’s. We feel relief when: The flight attendant moves the big guy next to you to another row. The road is empty of expected traffic and you will make it to your appointment on time. The traffic is only that guy with the “slow” sign and what you thought was a twenty-minute delay is only two. You print (or post) your finished paper or assignment or project. You have tea. You sleep. Shaking the ink cartridge at three in the morning allows that one last copy when you waited until the last minute to finish your paper, assignment, or project. Your solution to a math problem is correct, and you know why. The snow is only a dusting. The snow is seventy inches, and the world has closed down – especially on the day of the major test or presentation. It doesn’t rain on your wedding day. The snow on your wedding day turns into rain. You fit in your wedding dress. Aunt Diane doesn’t attend your wedding. Even though she threatened to come out of obligation to your Mom. Yes, she’ll be there. And she will try to keep her opinions to herself… The message from that unrecognized number is a reminder about your car warranty. The pink line on the little stick doesn’t appear. The pink line on the little stick appears. Your French teacher does not call on you. The department of motor vehicle clerk calls on you. The screaming baby in aisle six falls asleep. The screaming baby in aisle six is not your baby. This time. The scale registers a two-pound weight loss. The scale registers a ten-pound weight gain, but you find the scale is mis-calibrated, and you lost five pounds. The cop entering the coffee shop doesn’t recognize you and buys a doughnut. The cop enters the coffee shop at the moment a creep decides to rob the place. He finally texts you. He stops texting you. You get your period. The hot flash ends. You never get your period again. The calamine lotion soothes the bug bites. You arrive at a solution to a difficult problem in that ah-ha moment. The morphine kicks in after you press the button next to your recovery bed. All the lights on the Christmas tree light the first time. Finding, on the first pass, the one dead bulb on the string of Christmas tree lights. There’s enough Vagisil to get you through the night. There’s enough Viagra to get you through the night. The rash is not syphilis or herpes. Grandma survives the surgery. Grandma dies. The restroom in the mall is right there. The rest stop on the highway is in a mile. The airport restroom has enough stalls to accommodate the queue of six-hundred women and screaming children. Your Covid test is negative. Your partner’s Covid test is negative. You spot the spelling error in your resume before you send it. You clean out your inbox. You get the interview. You get the job. Your boss adopts the procedure you hesitated to recommend. Your procedure proves to increase the profit margin. You get the promotion. You don’t get the promotion. You receive that raise right after you commit to a two-year balloon mortgage. You quit that job. You remember to put the garbage out. You have no garbage to put out. You check done on a to-do item. The eagles carry you from Mordor. The lump is just a fatty cyst. The lump is the cat you thought got outside when your thoughtless roommate was finally taking out the garbage. The last package of chicken smells okay. The IRS notice says they’ve waved the penalties and dropped the matter. You apply lip balm onto dry lips. You reach the tickle between your shoulder blades and scratch away. It’s four a.m. and you find the hemorrhoid cream in the depths of the medicine cabinet. He gets down on his knee and asks after years of waiting, and waiting, and waiting…. He signs the divorce papers after years of waiting, and waiting, and waiting. The constipation… passes. The diarrhea… passes. The kidney stone… passes. Your third grader passes Math. Your inhaler works. Your name isn’t drawn in the Hunger Games lottery. Your angelic baby sister’s name isn’t drawn in the Hunger Games lottery. You find your winning lottery ticket. You should stop leaving items in your pockets when you toss your clothing in the laundry basket. The doctor’s office answers the phone. The model-chick is his sister. Your baby’s fever breaks. Your child laughs after a fall from the swing. Your car starts. You locate the code that broke the website. You were not the programmer to add the violative code to the website. No one saw your post. Everyone saw your post. The website wasn’t live. The tornado skips your town. The tiger eats your guide and not you. The check didn’t bounce. The check is in the afternoon mail. The overnight package makes it to its destination. A listicle finally ends.