In which Deb Kristina says “son of a %#&#*!”

My bad habit is something I’ve by now given up. Well, mostly. Swearing. It’s coarse, tacky, definitely unladylike … but let’s face it, nothing vents pressure like letting fly with a really satisfying curse. The apex of my swearing history occurred during my news reporter days when, in certain situations, I would swear like a merchant marine. I’m a little ashamed to admit this when I consider certain people who…

Monday, August 17, 2009