Huffin' & Puffin' Profanities....Not-so-cool at all!

credits to National Geographic

I was sitting dreamily during brunch, yeah, one of those moody midweek-days, eating my turkeyham croissant and sipping a lemony drink at the air-conditioned deli, hoping to get sollace from the lancing heat and my frenetic staff upstairs. Have been on guard recently at this eatery, ever since I've been stalked by a not-so-fine-gentleman, a weirdo who possessed an evil set of eyes, checking me from head-to-toe, sending shivers down my spine with his every "lustful?" glance. Well, I plucked up courage after the second encounter last week; when I gave him my Medusa-stare, in an attempt of shaming him to get his roving eyes off me and once-and-for-all, leave me alone.

However, everything seemed fine today, me, tucking into that moist succulent bits of cackle meat sandwiched between a fragrant bun and crispy greens, when another gentleman ( I've also encountered him before, puking putrid words! I shall name him, Mr. Vulvarine for his incessant verbal vulva) at the next table began his verbal journey of a woeful tale.

" G--! That biatch doesn't know who she was talking to and what she was talking about. I told her she was a piece of s---, she was a MCB, #^*% blessings to her #^*% mother (all in a dialect), but she didnt seemed to care. "

Duh ..... another unlucky encounter of a different kind. I think Mr Vulvarine had some insight problems, perhaps amongst his many.

My dreamy lemonade became unfiltered-sewage.
My croissant turned tofu tasteless.

Words that used to be relegated to the unsightful squatting beside longkangs, inside ol' kopitiams with spittoons, street gang and ah long warfare ...... have now fully entered all facets of our colourful Malaysian life, entered with none or little objection from most people.

Eloquence is dead.

From proudly pasted stickers on car windscreens of "Do not come too close, A biatch is driving", to disgusting noisy tales from pork-bellied-ah peks-with-ol'-china-singlets-folded-up-way-above-their-waistlines, in which every 6th word is one for which I would have had my mouth washed out with industrial-strength detergent. Being a multicultural country, even more so with the huge influx of Nepalese, Myammarese, and other "ese-es", the love of language is thriving, but not clever language, filled with fresh figures of speech and precisely selected verbiage.

No. What has been marinating in crap (thought I would say this sentence all in a huff! so here goes....) is a dull stew of egoistic and wannabes, simple-minded angry dolts who craved attention that their pathetic selfs could not otherwise come close to ever-getting.

Now, I am not jumping at those expressive school students. They, at least have a decent excuse for uncreative four letter expletives, being from raging hormones, life's confusion and "monkey-see-monkey-do" from their parents, exacerbated by music and media that emphasize lazy and backstreet language. Not meant to be a racist comment, but I seem to experienced more from the chinese-speaking countrymen and their children whose verbal slews in their native tongues (especially hokkein in my hometown) are the daily norm of speech (only God knows why they just love to wish other peeps' mothers well!).

Whilst I admit that the occasional profanity amongst good friends brings laughter and is a good form of stress-reliever, I have come to the conclusion the professionals of profanity who know not other forms of decent language, often are people who want you to lean in and look critically at them. They are people who are angry, frustrated, ignored, disappointed, dull, lazy or simply mean and don't know any better.

Their egos are like puffing bullfrogs, waiting and needing to be fed with attention, hence, the barrage of expressive language that only they know how, in the process, clogging your receptive minds along the way.

I know of another category of attention-seekers; milder in their language, but nonetheless just as potent with their constant threats that often leaves us going on a guiltridden-trip as well as boohoo tales in hopes of getting our sympathy. And yes, they do make full blaring of woes via every possible form ie. twitter, fb, blog. But that deserves another special post of its own.

I chose not to give in!

Gosh, stress is killin' my usual cheerie-self ............ I need another freakin' lemonade!






"Walk on a trail of loving kindness
Walk on a path of compassion
And all else around you will be beautiful."
Every Blessing