Cuss-free Spain?

So, with my birthday less than two months away (I made the mistake of saying my birthday was three months away a couple of days ago. Goes to show how much of my brain I'm really using during this time of the year), I've really been thinking hard about what I want to do to celebrate the aging of my cells.
I don't usually ask for anything (adding weight to Pacemaker's theory that my family and I are actually Jehovah's Witnesses) because I feel shitty doing so. I usually just wait for Mom to bring up my birthday and what I would like to do in order to celebrate. That's when I usually throw out ideas, if I'm ever in the mood for anything (which I'm usually not).

Well... that being said, this year I'm kind of feeling like actually celebrating... out of this continent... for a month or two. I've been hinting at it to my parents, but they don't bite. They haven't asked me shit.
How the fuck can I make this work?

***

In case you haven't noticed, or I haven't said it enough times, I'm kind of a potty mouth. Kind of.
I go through phases where I don't say more than a few "fucks" and the occasional "shit," every other day... but then I have these spells where I will drop a curse word every other word, in various languages, every other second.
I know I'm at my dirtiest when I continuously say "Goddamn" and the Spanish word "verga." I never say "goddamn" unless I'm FURIOUS, or going through my "vulgar prostitute slang" phase (that's what my mom calls it) because it honestly makes me feel bad. I always cower, expecting to get struck by lightening, as I apologize to the sky when I drop that big word. "Verga" is said out of habit, usually after hanging out with dudes for prolonged periods of time. That word's just fun... it sounds funny, and it REALLY irritates my mom.

This leads me to what happened last night as I sat in the living room with Mom and Sister.
Sister wanted to watch me play Donkey Kong Country (I curse the day we purchased that game, because now I swear I hear monkeys everywhere... even in my sleep), so I obliged.
We were all huddled on the couch, watching me try to pass the stupid game (I have no feeling on either thumb, and my right index finger feels broken, all thanks to the death-grip I place on the controller... because I'm Steinbeck's Lennie Small).
Anyone who has had the pleasure to watch me play video games... or any sort of game, really, can see how competitive I get... and when I get competitive... I turn into the vulgar prostitute/catinera alter ego. I will cuss... and cuss... and cuss.
I come up with strange swear-word combinations (my favorite so far, which I have adopted to use in regular conversation, is "Puto hijo de perra" [comparable to "asshole, son of a bitch"] which I one day yelled at a taxi for cutting me off. I was supposed to say "perro, hijo de puta!" [comparable to "bitch, son of a whore!"] but my brain jumbled it all up, and what came out was so poetic, I damn near patted my own back) which no one is safe from, not even Donkey Kong is not safe from this... especially when I keep dying because the fuckface doesn't jump high enough.
Mom was sitting next to me, and she finally spoke up after about half an hour of my cussing crusade.
Mom: Oye, AnoMALIE, estaria bueno si dejaras de usar esas palabrotas para el año nuevo. (Yo, AnoMALIE, it'd be great if you would stop using those words for this new year)
Me: That? My resolution? Hell no!
Mom: It will make you a better person. You just need to take that initial step of stopping.
Me: I love cussing. Don't try and make me change that!
Mom: Let's start a challenge. All three of us get into it. See who can last without cussing the longest.
Me: Now why would I do that? There's no incentive. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not much into challenges. I'll just admit defeat and continue to cuss within minutes. I don't care. Will I get anything out of it?
Mom: ... you name it.
(Oh no... here comes the competitive monster in both of us, rearing its ugly head. It's like watching two rams scoot back and aim their horns at each other. We're bad)
Me: Eurotrip part two.
Mom: That's what not cussing for a year is worth to you?
Me: Yeah. But I'd have to go around my birthday, I'm not about to wait a year to go out there. I'll already be too old to get into museums at the discounted student price (I was informed of this back when I was in Bilbao. 26 is the age limit. I was 23 back then, and my response was "Y yo paresco de 26 o que puta madre?" This made me pay full price, obviously. The chick was not too happy)
Mom: No. You'd have to not cuss for a year, then head out there. It'll be good for you. Because recently, you've been saying some "palabrotas" that I never taught you (verga).
Me: Fuck that shit. No.

And that is how my mom nearly got me to quit cussing, and I nearly got my wish for Barcelona part two.
Me not cuss? Pfffffft!