Oh my!

Some people believe I have lived a sheltered life – especially in the dark side of vocabulary. I think some people may have a case. Today, one of my dear Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse friends took me aside and counseled me. I was familiar with the word dingbat – Archie always called Edith one, remember? So, I just always assumed dingleberry – and I hesitate to type it – had something to do with goofy behavior. I am not going to link to any online dictionary. My face is red. Although my first inclination was to just ignore what had happened, I just couldn’t let people stopping by think I used such a word. Ew,

My father would not want his daughter to talk that way . . . and that’s why I say “pass gas” instead of f–t. And why I will never use d———y again.

I suppose it is a generational thing.

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