Friday, April 30, 2010

It's a Fuck You Friday [PG-13. Fuck you, gratuitous profanity!]

Good friggin' morning, ain't it just a grand old sunshine suppository of a day? I'm not typically fond of rampant bitching, but it's just One of Those Days and if I'm gonna complain without being constructive, I may as well save it all up for a good old-fashioned
Fuck You Friday!

Fuck you, Nancy Grace. You're a gossipy old hack. I guess if your relentless ululating throat-punch style works for you, you should milk it for all it's worth. Right? RIGHT! Fuck you!

Fuck you, CNN, for tricking me into watching even one second of a Nancy Grace clip. NOT COOL.

Fuck you, feet, for being cold all the time.

Fuck you, forum posters who condemn the RP scene as nonexistent without ever having done anything but sit conspicuously in a bar emoting heavy sighs and being vaguely provocative. "Please pay attention to me! My character is so deep and you would know if you would only sit and hear my sad, mysterious, sexy and important tale!" Grats on being the 14292358th person who couldn't be assed to try.

Fuck you, salt, for being so goddam delicious.

Fuck you, $224 million Megamillions jackpot that I won't win. Fuck you, sticky change in the bottom of my cupholder. Fuck you, people who write and propagate malware. Fuck you, coffee pot, for scorching my second cup. Fuck you, Friday, for being almost indistinguishable from Monday.
Now for some special guest submissions on this lovely FYF:

"Hey Friday? Fuck you. It's stormy, my net connection is trying to shit the bed, and I may end up actually having to do laundry. So, double fuck you." - Reggie
[Author's Note: I am super-jealous that I wasn't the one to think of the ol' double fuck-you for today's post. Fuck you, creativity!]
Fuck you, needing 7 hours of sleep to function. Fuck you, guy on the highway, for cutting me off only to slow down. - Greg
"Dear filthy club whore who came into my store at 3 AM: Fuck you.
Fuck your condoms.
Fuck you for scoffing at me when I ask if you have a fucking CVS card. I know, you're too drunk to know whether you're in CVS, W
algreen's or the tattoo parlor.
No, I'm not staring at your withered tits. I'm looking at your nasty hickey from last night, and NO you can't use my bathroom to wash up." - Branden
Getting fed up listening to old men whine. "Back in my day, we didn't text, we talked to people". Yeah, well, back in your day you were amazed by indoor plumbing and electricity. "My daughter never picks up the phone when it's me". All you do is gripe and complain, why would she? - Anon.
[Author's Note: "Back in my day, we talked to people. And made damn sure Those People didn't drink out of our water fountains." Amirite? Fuck you, misplaced nostalgia!]

Who wants to get in on the action? Consider this your one-day pass to get your gripes off your chest. Show me your best FYF face in the comments.

Tomorrow: 'It's Not You, It's Me' Saturday!

1 comment:

  1. Oh hey. A couple more FUCK YOUs for the record:

    Finding five white athletic socks, and not a single matching pair? FUCK YOU!

    And fuck you, hurtful memories, for being able to sucker-punch you long after the fact.