Mai was discussing the finer points of cursing during our drive home today; namely how some people (and by some people she meant Simon)’s excessive use of words like fuck had lead to an overall cultural desensitization, reducing the effectiveness of such words and thusly, further increasing their use.
She was in the process of explaining how this would be vicious cycle worked when she suddenly noticed the gigantic semi-truck and trailer barreling down on us at an ungodly speed (mostly because I had started panickedly gasping, “Truck! Truck! Truck!”). Her response was quick and decisive, accelerating as she changed lanes to squeak out of his way, yelling, as it were, at the errant driver/me:
“FUCK! What the fuck does he fucking think he’s doing? Wake the fuck up you bastard! God! You’re not the only truck on the fucking road!”
After enough time had passed for us both to catch our breath and for her to let out yet another (much more relieved), “Fuck,” she once again glanced in my direction and said in the calmest voice imaginable, “See? Had we not become so desensitized to such language, I may have been able to fully express my utter terror with only one curse. As it was,” she continued, “I required two or three.”
“Try four or five,” I interrupted.
“Regardless,” came her response, “It only serves to prove my point.”
“And of course,” I sighed, “That is, after all, all that matters.”