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Help! I Got My Tattoo of the Parental Advisory Sticker Removed and Now I Can’t Say Swear Words!

Drat! For once in my gadbum life, I was being responsible. I finally did the adult thing and paid a farking paunchload of cash to get this tattoo of the “parental advisory” sticker removed from my flunking stomach, and all of a sudden I can’t say any farking cuss words! Blazes!

Sure, this tattoo looked pretty honkin’ sick when I got it in high school. They say you should keep a drawing of your tattoo idea in your pocket for at least a year before deciding to get it. Well, I wrote down this idea in 8th grade and by 9th grade I still wanted it, which was at least three times that long.

However, as a self-respecting adult with a burgeoning career in movie theater hospitality, I decided it was time to get it laser removed. But now my ability to reprimand movie-talkers and movie-shushers alike has been majorly hindered. How will I be able to use verbose language to berate my more rambunctious clientele without my tenured affinity for the profane?! This is billshut!

Tipper Gore really muffed me on this one.

I’ve considered just getting the same tattoo again, but even then there’s no guarantee that would magically give me the ability to swear. I’m not really sure how this curse works. Is it like Frosty’s hat? Is it even a curse? If so, that would be pretty ironic.

Either way, I’m relegated to my fate. If I may never again be able to utter a curse word, then so be it. I will cast off my former identity as the coolest guy at this AMC still wearing a chain wallet and awaken reborn as a run-of-the-mill polo-wearing Joe who says good morning and means it. I’m not ditching the chain wallet, though.