F-bombing in style

I just binge-watched (and finished) The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel last weekend. It’s a mind-blowing show. For the first time since Gilmore Girls, finally, I have a new Amy Sherman-Palladino show to watch that’s original, witty, and exciting every time. They deserve their Golden Globe and Critics Choice wins. But more on what I love about this show later.


For now I want to talk about wanting to talk like Mrs. Maisel. Not the posh, 1950s New York slang that comes out of Rachel Brosnahan’s pretty mouth, and oh, what a pretty mouth it is. I’m talking about explosive expletives here. The f-word set out like a bomb on an unsuspecting audience.


But who am I kidding? I’m not really like that. I couldn’t even speak without shaking like a leaf in public. But I think it’d be handy to talk like that for intimidation purposes like telling off the rude busybody who cut through my line on election day, or to ward off suspected would-be muggers in the UV Express on my way home. That would’ve been really useful, but might not be effective, given that swearing in Tagalog has more impact on ordinary commuters and muggers alike where I’m from.

At the moment, expletives are reserved when talking to myself or having a conversation in my head that goes like, “So, do I give an effing f— about what this person really thinks of me? No? Then I’ll just stay at home and read a book instead, or bake cookies and binge-watch The X-Files. Obsess about Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny’s frustrating and palpable chemistry. Yup. Sounds like fun. Problem solved and crisis averted”.

So, yeah, I’m good with it. At not talking in expletives. I’ll leave the actual f-bombing to Mrs. Maisel instead. She’s the only one I know who can insert the f-word in every sentence that comes out of her mouth and still look classy.

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