Language in New York is, well, colorful. The F-word is a common as, well, “like” in some other parts of the coastal-country.
This morning, as I was walking from the subway to work, on 37th St. I passed by a construction site with two brawny construction workers standing in the street, one yelling into his cell-phone. It’s kind of funny to see a skyscraper going up on a plot of land no larger that a little gas-station in the rest of the country, between other tall buildings. It’s kind of indicative of New Yorkers’ concept of personal-space.
Anyway, this is what I overheard as I walked through the sidewalk maze.
Ready?
“That f**king, head-ache-*ss, bullsh*t.”
What did he say? That’s all he said. Now, that’s all I heard and I’ve no clue of the context of the conversation, but other than conveying that he was a bit miffed, what in the world did he actually say? Might he have said something like, “I’m a bit angry right now and what happened wasn’t at all helpful!”
Yes, he could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as colorful.