No #@$%&! April

Zip it! Zip it good!

My Year of Lents staggers onward, and Meager March (the month of no frivolous purchases) is now over. Truth be told, I did pretty poorly. I didn't buy any clothes or shoes or makeup or other fripperies, but I did go to two movies and had more than one evening out at restaurants and bars. Socializing was my downfall. But still, no coffees while out and about, no snacks, no new albums or TV shows downloaded, no books read that I didn't already have stacked beneath my nightstand, no impulse purchases to speak of. Oh wait, no—Angry Birds Rio. Overall, I give myself a D+ for effort.

Now it's on to No #@$%&! April, the month during which I'm not allowed to swear. And by swear I mean anything from the D-word and the A-word on up the line of profanity, including blasphemy, spoken or tweeted or e-mailed or texted. Though if I'm writing and my characters swear, that's kosher.

I already ruined my snowball's chance at perfection by calling my manfriend's laptop computer a "smug motherf*cker" this morning over breakfast, less than an hour into the waking month, which doesn't bode well. And that's one dollar into the virtual swear jar, the contents of which I'll be donating to a yet-to-be-determined charity at the end of the month. Their cup shall surely runneth over with the spoils of my extravagant failure.