This is the picture we used for Murray's birth announcement. I wanted him to have a Hell Yes! sweatshirt before we even knew who he was. Hell yes, we had a baby! Hell yes, my life just started! So much to celebrate and "Hell Yes!" sums up all the feels.
I grew up in a household where "shut up" and "jeez" were swear words. "Don't have a Cow Man" got the Simpsons 100% banned Ryan children TV time. My parents didn't really swear, ever. Though Bullets did let a heartfelt "damn it!" slip from time to time—that's when you knew to hold on to your effing hat.
As an adult, I have reached a comfort level with cursing that I'm not always proud of, but I don't really hate either. I lean more towards the colorful side of swearing rather than the obscene, and I find a well-placed four letter word adds emphasis that's difficult to replicate with softer language.
When I first moved to New York, the New Museum was hosting a summer party themed, Hell Yes! And had a sign on the outside of the building. Depending on your angle on the Bowery or Prince Street, you got an awesome pick me up.
Tell me that doesn't make you smile? Hell yes! I moved to New York City with an MBA, no job and am slinging schnitzel at an upscale Austrian restaurant! Hell yes, I saw a grown man poop on the stoop in front of my apartment last week! Hell yes, to the city that never sleeps!
Try it—what are you doing right now? Hell yes, you are!
It's just so damn positive.