Shit.

Yep, thats right I said it.  I'll say it again for dramatic effect.

Shit.

I could have used a lot of substitute words instead of the dreaded "S" word...but I didn't.  Here are some of those substitute words for that particular word:

Poopy
Caca
Manure
Smell Bomb
Crap
Fertilizer
Senior Feces
S***
Mt. WhatthehelldidIeat?
Kiester Torpedo
Lt. Funky Stankbottoms
Yuck Pie of Doom

Since there are so many other ways to write shit without having to actually use it, why would I chuck verbal gem against the wall of my blog? 

What possible motivation would I have for using this cuss word that I learned from my middle aged, bee-hived babysitter when I was only seven? 

UNRELATED TANGENT ALERT!!!!  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

She exclaimed it out loud when some over-excited housewife made a horrible bid during the showcase showdown on "The Price Is Right".  Perhaps she was memorized by the 1982 version of Bob Barker....I know my  warden sitter was.  The only thing I ever noticed was how his microphone looked like a toy.  I once asked my bitterly angry sensitive babysitter about that fact...she responded with something that smacked of "Don't you ever talk about Bob like that you little *Kiester Torpedo*!!!  He has more talent in his nostril than you have in your stupid little body!"  While she was right, I don't think that I was ready to hear that cold truth while I was eating my Captain Crunch.  I made a mental note to never bring up Bob's $ 4.00 microphone again...doing so seemed to cause a *Crap* storm.  I think if I would have ever used BB's name in vain again my crazed   unique babysitter would have had me spade or nuetered.  (I still don't know which one is for dudes and which one is for the ladies) Maybe it is because of her that I never drank "The Barker Kool-Aide".   How could a man that seemed to have the sexual charm of a nostril hair get more action than The Fonz?  I could never reconcile that fact.  For many he was the *Smell Bomb*.  To me he was a chump that was promoting emotional infidelity among 40 year old women. 

TANGENT OVER.  WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

I have a very good reason for breaking my rule not to cuss in my blog....

A couple weeks ago I started to take some pretty serious online writing classes from a University that offers intensive teaching online.  I went into the experience with an expectation that I would be honored above all others.  I went into it think my *Senior Feces* did not stink.  Well, it turns out that my *poop* does in fact stink.  It stinks bad.  It stinks like monkey dander soup.  After submitting a few new writing samples to my instructor (who has published a number of short fiction and non-fiction books) we had a conversation that went like this.

Her: Hey John, you have a sec to talk about your writing?

John: You bet. 
(Yes....tell me how incredible I am.  I will even be willing to offer you some advice.  The student has already become the teacher.

Her:  Ok.  You want the good news first?

Awesome John: Sure...
(It should be noted that at this point I am slightly annoyed because whenever someone asks "You want the good news first?" is simply code for "I want to butter your throat up before I rip it open with my *criticism claws)  (* Note: Criticism Claws has been trademarked by me.  Don't use it.  Ever.  It is mine.  If you use it I will hire a goon to find you and scare the *Lt. Funky Stankbottoms* out of you.)

Her: You are kind of funny.

John: Ok...
(Kind of???  Kind of???  That is like saying that Burger King kind of tastes like *Manure*

Her: And there is some raw writing talent in what you have submitted.  I mean really raw.

John: Ok....
(hmmmm..Maybe she has me confused with someone else...).

Her: Really raw.  Really, really raw...John Roedel of Wyoming...really raw...)

John: I got it....
(There is an off chance that she is using the word "raw" instead of the word "transcending" by mistake..)
 
Her: I am talking RAW.  Like seriously raw.  Like-

John: Point taken!
(yaaaaaaaaaarrrr!!!)

Her:  So thats the good news.

John: Ok...
(Thats the good news???  Holy *Smell Bomb* that means that the bad news is going to really really hurt....and it did)

Her:  The bad news is aside from your lack of basic understanding of grammar and punctuation...

John:Right
(what the heck is grammar and punctuation?  I don't, understandy the words; coming out of you're: mouth!)

Her:  Your writing is too safe.

John: Safe?
(safe?  I am not safe!  I am a fat ball of danger!  I am a wild boar that is running through the jungle.  safe??  That is crazy!)

Her: Yep.  So safe in fact that it comes across kind of false.

John: Yikes.
(*Fertilizer!!!!*)

*Fertilizer* is right!  She was correct.  I am way too safe.  Not just in my writing, but in everything I do.  I try desperately not to offend anyone or cause discord.  I take hardly any risks so that I don't have to take the crowbar of failure to the face.  I mean for the love of Pat Robertsons blackened, cold, and Vulcan heart I am living my life (both on the page and in person) like I am planning on running for office.  By the way I will never ever run for office.  I am going to run FROM office.  The only elected seat I could ever imagine running for would be County Coroner.

TANGENT ALERT!!!!!  BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Why the world do we vote for County Coroner?  I mean really.  Why?? That should be a career that you are appointed to.  People like me (by me I mean:  Uncoordinated, hairy, and annoying dudes that don't know what the difference between "spayed" and "Neutered" is.) should not be part of the decision making process for who gets to play Quincy all day.  That kind of decision should be made by people who have their *Yuck Pies of Doom* together.  I have no idea what makes someone a better candidate for county coroner that someone else!  Maybe one of the people looks better in a white lab coat?  Do they wear white lab coats?  I don't even know!!  So why the *Caca* am I being put in that position???  Why not have me vote for who should be the chief brain surgeon, or for county Vasectomy Specialist??  Why not ask me to punch the chad for who our next Jail Warden will be.  I think in order for me to be even semi-ok with voting for the next County Coroner I need to watch them compete against each other in some sort of event.  Maybe like in an American Idol like format or something.  Where maybe one week they have to each do an autopsy on live TV while singing some song from the 60's.  See...I should have no business making these kind of decisions.

TANGENT IS OVER.  WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

It should also be said that I can never run for office because photo's like this exist:





The thing that bothers me the most is that I made it a resolution a few years ago to take more risks.  To stop being safe, shy, and silent all the time.  That resolution held about as well as my resolution I made this year to stop making jokes at *inappropriate times about the paternity of my children. (sorry wifey)

* It turns out there is never really an appropriate time to make jokes in social situations about whether or not you are the real father of your children.  Especially not in the following places:

- Your In-Laws House during Thanksgiving Dinner.
- The delivery room during the birth of your first son.
- During the baptism reception right after the priest gave a blessing.
- In front of your mother. Ever.
- In the middle of a tense parent teacher conference that you felt needed a little humor
- The Delivery room during the birth of your second son.
- To an Applebee's waitress that is having a very very *poopy*  day.
- On a blog that is open for the world to read.
- The delivery room during the birth of your third son.

So I am going to make it a point to take more risks when it comes to living and writing.  I am not going to go crazy with that.  There is going to be a fine line between playing it safe and showing up in the blotters for trying to steal a police horse. 

If you are like me that somedays you feel as if you are letting life pass you by because you sometimes play it too safe then I encourage you to join me in living on the edge a bit more.  

Lets come together and make the word "Safe" the newest four-letter word.

Unless of course you think that I am just full of *Mt. WhatthehelldidIeat?*