My mother has offered me $1000 to stop swearing.

I think the main reason she offered me such a large chunk of change is she knows there’s no way in hell I’d ever take it.

I have sworn like a drunken sailor who used to be a truck driver driving through New York City since I was twelve and discovered Denis Leary’s No Cure For Cancer, and shortly thereafter George Carlin, and she knows there isn’t a fucking thing she can do about it. She is well aware of this, even though she really wants me to stop swearing.

So she has turned to what she percieves as my weak point: money. If she hit me in about eight months when I’ve graduated and am eating ramen three meals a day because I can’t afford anything else because I still don’t have a real job, she might have actually gotten me to take it (though I still would have argued her up to at least five grand).

Her offer is up from her earliest offer of $100, which I simply laughed at. But I think she’s going to have to go to at least 10 grand to get me to seriously consider excising even just the word “fuck” from my vocabulary. If I could keep “fuck,” I might be persuaded to stop saying “shit” for about two grand.

Because you gotta have something to say other than “oh my heck” when you stub your toe.

(note: if you don’t get the title, click here, scroll to the 4th song, listen to it, then click here and buy my album, for fuck’s sake. thank you.)

The weather here is schitzophrenic.

It’s 76 in Chicago right now, almost midnight, according to the little weather bug on my computer. It was eightysomething today, a fairly hot day for mid-April. This time last week, it was snowing. This time next week, it will likely be snowing as well.

I don’t know if this is evidence that the environment has been seriously fucked up, or that Mother Nature is just as mental as all of us humans.

It’s hot as hell in my room, a phenomenon I had been conveniently able to repress since my landlord wasn’t particularly heating my room for large, large portions of the winter, and I thought my fingers were going to fall off. I still need to thank the Medilldos upstairs for threatening to write an expose on him in the Daily, which clearly did a lot more good than five months of bitching about the (lack of) heat, since a day or so after I heard they did it, the heat was working fantastically.

It was this hot in the apartment over the summer, but a seven month gap between the end of last summer’s worst heat and the beginning of this year’s made it easy to forget how much I hate living without air conditioning. Perhaps this year I shall locate a window a/c unit, at least for my room. But more than likely, I’ll be too lazy from the heat, and I’ll end up just sitting around and drinking margaritas, daquiris, and mudslides to cool off.

Which will make me a whole hell of a lot lazier.