I meant sweat. I meant sweet. No, I meant swear. I really don’t swear. Blame it on the Catholic upbringing or just the fact that I prefer not to, because I instantly feel guilty afterward (also, blame that on the Catholic upbringing), but swearing has always been something that only happens when I’m overly stressed, panicked, and some type of emergency may be happening. Or, as I like to call it: Mother(f*ing)hood. It’s been an eye-opening thing to realize how… Read more »