Cussing

I like to cuss. Since I teach all day, I basically have to turn the valve off for eight hours, which leads to a build-up of swearing that gushes out at the end of the day. Problem is, if you do an after-school activity, you're more prone to let one slip since you've grown accustomed to letting loose around 4 pm everyday.

The other day, I'm helping my seventh grade team get their defense set, so I'm playing quarterback and there's eleven kids on the other side who want to absolutely destroy me for the multitude of parent phone calls, homework, and tests I had given them the year before. Time after time, the ball would be snapped and these kids played like the Lawrence Taylor All-Star team, just to get a lick in on me. On the last play that I dared to run, I took the ball off towards the sidelines, running for dear life. Three guys got to me, one little one that wrapped my ankles and drove my knees into the ground. As I landed on my 32-year-old (and surgically repaired) patellas, the only thing I could thing to utter was "SHIT".

Thankfully, they thought I said, "nice hit". Thank God for the mouthpiece.