First off, the Run Bitches! Half last Saturday was a resounding success. Thanks to all you bitches and SOBs who showed up and didn’t even complain about how truly wretched that course was. Having run it two weekends in a row, I don’t know what’s wrong with those blowholes who mapped out this course. Anyway, as usual, Amy’s post on the event precedes mine (bitch), and is all you really need to know.
As Amy mentioned, there was the vaguely-anticipated and tedious mini-kerfluffle over the public use of the word “bitch.” We were reprimanded on a running board and sternly instructed to be “professional and nice” (what the fuck is that even supposed to mean?) and that we were NOT funny. First of all:
Additionally, I’d like to relate a pleasant little tale I told elsewhere. Sorry if this is redundantly repetitive in a reiterated and twice-told way.
Anyway, I remember hearing some teenagers yelling the word “bitch” when I was 5, and I noticed that everyone thought it was inordinately funny. Herb, a popular and blond boy that went to our church was using it the most (of course), so I figured this must be a pretty darn snappy word.
Naturally, then, I ran home and started bellowing “BITCH!” over and over at my 7-year-old brother while both of us just laughed away, having no idea what we were saying. It was simply a dandy little compact word with a pleasing level of hissiness and the Herb-Approved grooviness factor. At one point, we were clearly entirely worked up over our new vocabulary discovery and began jumping up and down on the living room sofa chanting, “I’M A BITCH! I”M A BITCH! BIIIIIIITCH!!!”
All good things must end. My mom came flying in from the kitchen all aghast and stupefied and still holding a collander. I can’t remember what kind of punishment we received, but I’m thinking it was pretty minor, like a good talking to with sternly shaking collander for emphasis. After all, we obviously didn’t even know what we were saying.
So I learned that “bitch” was an impolite word. Hearing it and repeating it did not, in fact, damage me beyond repair. I grew up to be fairly normal.* I didn’t run away to join the roller derby at 15 or walk around with a pack of Viceroys rolled up in my sleeve. I very rarely wake up in a back alley wearing pasties with an empty bottle of Thunderbird in my hand.
I guess my point is that I really don’t think random exposure to (pretty fucking mild) profanity by strangers (or even groovy Herb) is all that harrowing to kids. I don’t want to get into the whole Look at All the Stuff Kids See and Hear Every Day that is Much Worse!!! lecture, because the bottom line is that I’m not enthusiasticlly supporting spouting gratuitous profanity in front of small kids. I mean, who is?
But I’m going to wear my damned Bitches shirt and continue to promote these free races with the not nice nor professional name.
What’s more, we will continue to make unprofessional beverages available to all you foul-mouthed heathens at the finish line: