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Profanity. We all do it. But I wonder why? I came across this article, and it got me to thinking about the English language and how it seems to have evolved.

I look at how my grandparents speak. Matt’s grandparents, too. You don’t hear very much slang. Not much cursing at all. In fact, the entire way they command the English language is a lot different than our generation. Have you ever watched older movies? Doesn’t really matter which; but you notice a distinct difference in pronunciation, and the language in general. (Don’t make me go off about the freaky priest in a cape, y’all.)

I wonder why it changed so much. Perhaps we’ve gotten incredibly lazy? But how? What changed from that generation to now, that would impact something so basic as the English language? Perhaps I’m wrong in calling is ‘basic’. If that’s the case, how did it evolve to something so different? Cursing, for example, is something that spews free-flowing from every orifice of my body, if I’d let it. I’ve been trying to curb it, because I think it sounds… well. Gross. Rude. And lazy. Surely there are better ways to describe whatever it is you’re trying to convey. Some people I know use the “F” word in every day sentences; not because they are upset or using it as an exclamation. If you took “F” away, you’d have nothing, basically. What’s that about? How can the English language morph into what it’s become?

I saw these pictures for the first time tonight. I didn’t even know they existed. These are of my dad. Thanks to Jolene, my stepmom, for sending these to me. Seeing these made me realize how much I miss you, dad, and I hope there’s a way we can see eachother this summer. It might sound cheesy, but I can’t imagine ever having any other father than you. I can’t imagine having more fonder memories built around someone other than you.

I always thought to myself that I wanted to marry someone that was a lot like you: A good man with a wonderful sense of humour, quirky, smart, someone who had a lot of common sense, someone who thought of thinks practically like you - someone with as big a heart as you. You’ve always been someone I’d base my “quality checklist-o-guys” on. You’re someone I respect immensely. Pretty hard criteria to truly meet, eh? I guess I got lucky. I’m even luckier to have someone like you in my life, let alone lucking out on having you as my father. Thanks, dad. Love you.

Tonight was filled with amazing Italian food, good friends, and lots of laughter. Oh, and booze. Yeah.

I must say that I’m not looking forward to tomorrow. At. All. I’ve agreed to work a couple of hours overtime, because we’re busy. Realistically, we need to hire about five more people, but hey, who that when they’re cheap labor that don’t get paid overtime? Ah, the beauty of salaried life. Bleagh.

Tomorrow night, however, brings more fun. Charity, Matt, and I are going out for sushi at the best sushi restaurant known to man. Man, that would have been a great link, had Yuki’s actually had a website. YUKI’S! GET GLOBAL, DAMMIT! Every city in every nation needs a Yuki’s. Tuna hill, baby. That’s all I’m saying. Mounds of raw tuna topped off with avocado. Sweet mother, that makes me shivah!

I’m not sure that Sunday’s really going to turn out for my photo group. It seems no one can figure a time that is convenient for every one to meet. I threw out 10 a.m. this Sunday, but so far, zero responses. Maybe it’d be best to do this on an individual basis. Few of ya wanna get together? Lemme know.

Huh. Sounds like Mario just got his ass handed to him, by Gatts. Way to go, my sista!

I know I’m rambling. I’m sort of putting off going to bed tonight. Tomorrow is Friday, and the thought of showing up an hour earlier than normal, knowing that I get to work through my lunch which is even more fun, makes the day extra extra fun, y’all. Right now, 28,000 hours away, 5:30p.m. Friday afternoon just doesn’t even seem like it will ever come. At least I get a nice raw reward afterward, though, right? I mean, seriously: What could be better than sushi?

I’ve been curious as to who you are. Maybe you comment, maybe you don’t. Either way, if you would take a sec and maybe fill out the comment form just this once, and tell me a.) Who you are, b.) How you found milkring, and of course, c.) What makes you come back for more (You can’t have an outline without a c.). I’m a geek that way.)

If you could do that for me, that’d be splendid. I’ll even give you a cookie.

I gave up TV for Lent this year. There are times it’s a little difficult, like when I know Law & Order is on TBS for the thirtieth time in seventy-two hours. To be totally honest, though, it’s really been kind of… nice? I never realized how much TV plagued my brain with stress and unnecessary worry. It was never anything outward, and nothing I would ever conciously realize until I’ve gone without it for three weeks. Sundays are freebie days, and yet I think I’ve watched maybe twenty minutes’ worth. I’ve been feeling myself become a little more mellow, and a little less worrisome, which are both very good things. One of the things that I’ve been blessed with, is dad’s worrisome nature and not being able to let things go. Instead, I dwell on them in my head, for days - even the stupidest thing churns, and I mull it over and over again. Combine that with all the thoughts that blow through your head in that given timeframe, and then worry about it incessently. (Thanks, hove.) I always joke that I’m going to have some sort of a heart attack by the time I’m thirty-five due to the amount of stress that I cart around that amounts to a hill of dog poopoo. I guess if I keep it up, that might not be so funny. The no TV thing has added a simplicity to my life I never figured I’d appreciate or even kind of like.

When I was a kid, I didn’t spend my summers and time off from school inside, worrying about things, or inside .. at all, actually. I played all day with the neighbour kids literally all day long, having fun and being carefree. Ah, those were the days, right? Why can’t we have them back? Now, I realize as adults, we’ve got this lovely thing called responsibility and this icky thing called a job that we have to do to support, oh, I dunno, a mortgage or rent. We didn’t have those things to deal with as kids. But I’m realizing that all those things have their own special place in life. They’re important, and they certainly wouldn’t be cast to the wayside. But who says you can’t have just as much fun now, as when you were a kid? I often reminisce back on that time in my life, and get kind of sad, because my life as an adult hasn’t exactly been mud pies and Barbie-Goes-Camping-For-Two-Weeks-Under-Our-Big-Tree-In-The-Backyard (don’t ask.) There’s absolutely no reason that fun can’t be a big part of my life now. None. I want to take more walk-and-talks with my best friend. I want to hand-write more letters, and maybe keep a diary of sorts, that isn’t published on the internet. You know, the one you actually have to hand-write in. (Side note: Isn’t it amazing how lost all that stuff is now that we have computers? Kinda sad.) I want to call in sick on a nice sunny day from work one day, and go fishing for hours. I want to go camping. Cook a recipe my mom used to make, once in awhile. You know, the ones that are dreadfully easy and require things that Matt would find repulsive, like, uh.. Velveeta? (Salsa, hamburger, and Velveeta, y’all. Awesome nacho dip.) Maybe it could be just like when I was a kid - I can’t go out and play until I have my ‘chores’ done, and once those are done, it’s free reign. Stop the TV. Stop the worry and stress that doesn’t really need to be mulled over 24/7. And just live.

You might think I’m crazy, but I think it may be just that easy.

“He sounds like a really angry Steve Perry.”

Slideshow: All Bean, all the time!

P.S. - Maysen gave me kisses all weekend. Like real kisses, on the mouth, complete with slobbery baby goodness. My heart nearly exploded. Thanks.

This photo was taken a couple of days ago, from our office window. I can’t help but be reminded of “Gone With the Wind.”