lobsterchick's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I Ride the Short Bus Caution: This entry makes heavy use of the word "retard." If that offends you, you best take your pious ass elsewhere. Retard. Retard retard retard. I'm sorry, but that felt good. Really good. Retardedly good. Colleen has a brother who has severe cerebral palsy, and after, I'm sure, hearing people all her life use that word in a derogatory fashion to describe him, she hates it. I, of course, being she of such a stunning level of couth and grace, found this out the hard way; fair enough. When she told me I was cool about it, and promised to stop saying it. She got a li'l snotty and said I wouldn't be able to, so that's all I needed to hear. I have completely eradicated the word from my vocabulary, which is an amazing feat. The word that was once the earth that the geocentric universe of my speech spun around has been reduced to the third bouncing ball from an unremarkable star, not even visible on the clearest of nights from most close galaxies. Except, of course, when I slipped up the other night when Colleen and I were at the grocery store. Like a complete -- that's right -- retard, I said it. After three months of not having even thought it, after all that time of avoiding it like the Black Death, after beating it out of my everyday speech like the LAPD on a black man, out it came. And it just sat there, on the parking lot. I cringed, and apologized, but I forewent the profuse apologies and promises that once would have accompanied the utterance. I mean, she wouldn't have believed that I hadn't said it in forever anyway; she knew for certain that I hadn't been able to bend to her simple request, and despite the personal pain it caused her, I couldn't monitor my own vocabulary. Shame on me. I'm such a retard. 10:36 PM - 04 August 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||