OK, I admit it.
I briefly deviated from my Lenten swearing ban over pizza with Dave and Julie last night.
To make it worse, I was eating the Karma Something Something pizza at the time, which probably makes it worse.
According to Twitter, my atonement will take the form of planting the number of trees commensurate with the number of swear words at this year's ReForest the Bluegrass.
Julie has said, as instigators, they feel like they should help dig the holes.
I promptly agreed. Because if there's anything more Lenten than blaming the other guy, I don't know what it is.
In the spirit of full disclosure: these are the exceptions I have allowed during the ban: ass, dumbass, and ass-clown. But not "asshole." (It's in quotes, so I'm not actually saying it.) My rationale is if it can make it into prime time or daytime TV, then it's fair.
My favorite words are all part of the ban, and all contain the letter F. (Dinner definitely included a transgression. Or two.)
What is funny is that I now notice my friends swearing, and then apologizing -- as if they've offended me. Ha. I have had MARINES apologize for my language, so I don't know what it would take to offend me. (I really don't use the C-word. I don't like it. And out of respect for my religious friends, there are a few, shall we say, Christ-centered, expressions that I don't use in their presence. And I only "damn" inanimate objects, not people, because I wouldn't want it done to me. As for the F word... well, you see where I'm going...)
I think my response to my friends swearing during this penitent season is more akin to smokers who've given up cigarettes, and no matter how often they're exposed to them, they never lose the desperate longing to indulge.
So you might want to cover your ears sometime around Easter.