"f*** it!"
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-eight years and a million words
Tokyo, 2010.01.22
Today The Boy suddenly had a bit of an outburst, and in fact had two really good goes at saying, "f*** it!"
Now I don't know where he picks up this kind of dreadful language. Maybe from one of his teachers at the day care? Oh sure, they look like gentle soles (see exhibit A below) and yes, they're all Japanese speakers with little inclination to curse in English. Or at all.
But it's got to come from somewhere. Coincidentally, The Boy's outburst (which was accompanied by an 'oh rats' swing of the fist) came just after he'd spilled rice flour on the kitchen floor and the swinging handle of the vacuum cleaner managed to knock a bunch of bottles and other debris flying.