I'd like to shout a heartfelt FUCK THE FUCK OFF to my Dell computer at home which I spent hours working on last night trying to get the sound card to work properly with a microphone so that this Friday Fuck Off thread would have a special audio fuck off. FUCK THE FUCK OFF TO MY HOME PC, the one that THIS FUCKING CLOSE to ending its life at the bottom of my swimming pool. FUCKING DELL MOTHER FUCKING PIECE OF FUCKING FUCKSHIT.

Three people in line behind me clapped. In a way, it felt really horrible. I had reduced myself to this man's level of rudeness. I never do stuff like that.

Emily, you have to speak at a level they will understand. That you found it unpleasant merely reinforces the fact that you dropped to that level of stupidity voluntarily....and promptly rose back to the level of Self-Aware Human Being™.

Kudos to you!

Emily, did he put it away? What was his reaction? Inquiring minds want to know...

Julie,
Yeah. He just gave me this shocked look, flipped it closed and took out his money. I don't think he had any choice, given that I practically had a mob backing me up. The guy working the donut counter thanked me after the asshole left. He says he has to put up with that kind of thing all the time.

Having said that.....

FUCK OFF to people who stand in front of a soda machine fiddling with a dollar bill, trying to (a) make a selection, and (b) figure out how to stick the bill into the slot. The only reason I didn't emulate you, Emily, is that there are two soda machines there, and I just slipped over to the other one. Luckily for the diddling dude.

Oh, and FUCK OFF to bureaucrats who send out draft policies that are supposed to constitute detailed guidance, but are so vague in details as to appear having been written by a lobotomized moron....and then expect the field to submit valid comments critiquing said draft. If you don't know what the FUCK you are doing, why do you have the FUCKING job in the first place? FUCK OFF WITH CHEESE AND WITH KNOBS ON, you worthless chuck of FUCKING bureaucratic garbage. If you want someone else to write the policy for you, FUCKING WELL ASK!!!! Don't try to impress the boss with your level of expertise. YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS, OVERPAID BLOB OF PROTOPLASM!!!!!!!!

I dont know what bothers me more, rude cellphone in hand idiots or those blue tooth ear attached communication device ala Lt. Uhura that have no problem with how incredibly ridiculous they look when they appear to be having a conversation with themselves.

FUCK OFF TO THE NANNY STATE!!!!!!

But the donut story reminds me of the part in Fun With Dick and Jane where they rob the phone company and everyone in line starts cheering.

Jeff,
Ugh. Soda machine assholes. It's fucking soda, not a life-altering decision that will have a bearing on the future of the human race. It doesn't take ten fucking minutes to decide if you want Sprite or Squirt.

Val,
In either case, the drooling cell phone addicts are fucking retarded. There's a woman who works in a neighboring office who recently got hired for another job and she was telling me about how upset she was because she won't be able to use her cell phone at her new workplace. Um, you dumb bitch, you're not supposed to be using your cell phone at work anyway because you're supposed to be WORKING. I know I'm being kind of hypocritical, because I nip around in here on the job, but it is never to the detriment of what I have to get done and only on breaks or when it's slow enough. The regular work lines are a big enough burden without adding personal calls to the picture.

The people at physical plant where I teach can sod off, for their "Ve Must Haff Control!" policy over the temperature in the buildings, when they never come into the freaking buildings. It is about 50* in part of the classroom building right now, the students are complaining (I do not blame them at all) and because it's warm in my office and cold where I teach, I've got a lovely freaking MIGRAINE coming on.

We ask them to devolve control of the temperature to us - because they obviously aren't bothering to control it in any reasonable way - and they say the faculty aren't responsible enough to control the temperature in their own buildings.

Look, guys - how many classes do I have to threaten to cancel because my head feels like it's going to explode from your damned inadvertent temperature gradient for you to get the picture that it's not healthy for your students OR your faculty (not that you care about THEM) to be dealing with 20+ degree temperature changes in a matter of a few linear feet of hallway?

To those people that refuse to leave their beloved little dogs at home even for five minutes and thus drive around town with their little poodles or whatver little runt dog they have in their laps: FUCK THE FUCK OFF. While it may be nice to take little PookiePuff for a spin, you are endangering your pitiful self as well as everyone else around you. DOGS DONT FUCKING DRIVE, ASSWIPES and should you have an accident and your FUCKING AIRBAG DEPLOYS, CHANCES ARE YOUR NOSE WILL BE RIGHT UP POOKIEPUFFS BUTT, FUCKTARDS.

And you know who else can sod off?

All of the people who are going to begin promoting all of these news stories about how all of the things that make the Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Year's axis fun and enjoyable are either
fattening
wasteful
expensive
or some other way bad for you.

You know what? Holidays are about ENJOYMENT. Do not try to suck the ENJOYMENT out of what is the best time of the year by doing your fucking "Ooooh, that has sooooo many calories" schtick. Or the old "Oh, Americans go into too much debt buying gifts for their loved ones!" Or - as I once read in a Letter to the Editor (it was in a university-town newspaper but still) how "wasteful of energy" Christmas lights are.

Look, anti-fun-freaks: if you want to shiver in the dark and eat roots and twigs, go right ahead. But leave me the HELL alone, and don't sit and nanny-goat at me because I'm celebrating. I can look after my own damn weight gain (if there is any) and my own damn bills and my own damn electric meter. Just because you are congenitcally incapable of having any fun do not try to spoil it for those of us who CAN have fun.

And don't suggest more "friendly" (to whom?) alternatives, like wrapping presents in old Sunday funnies to save on paper. That's fine if your Christmas theme is Great Depression Days (in which case the presents will probably be socks and underwear) or Hobo Jungle, but for the rest of us on planet Earth, we'll use the nice pretty shiny paper that we can buy at the store, thanks.

And don't give me your damned "alternative" recipes where you replace sugar with ground up stevia leaves or some damn thing, and you replace chocolate with carob and all that shit.

Can we get a resounding FUCK THE FUCK OFF to all those fuckbits that camped out for days waiting for the next generation of time wasting PS3? What the fuck is FUCKING WRONG WITH THESE FUCKING PEOPLE? And to the guy on local TV this morning, camped out for three days at a local WalMart who stated, in no uncertain terms: "I even quit my job to be here", FUCK THE FUCK OFF YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE.

I'd like to say "Fuck Off" to the stores and businesses who don't have some little sign to tell you that the cashier has to swipe your debit card. So you think you, the customer, do it, and you stand there clutching your card to be ready ('cause you're probably the kind of person that doesn't like to make eveyone behind you wait while you fumble through your purse at the last minute because you stood there like an idiot while the cashier was actually processing your sale) only to have the cashier treat you like you're the biggest dumbass in the world because you didn't just hand the card to her. So... FUCK OFF to those stores who can't make it clear how they best process their sales.

Shameless plug: Blog Drunk on December 29

fracas,
Hahahaha. Brilliant idea.

Val,
It's not even so much that Playstation is a timewaster - we all need those to relax and blow off some steam with a dumb mindless activity occassionaly. But jeebus, fuckdips camping out, risking or even quitting their jobs to get some useless thing that isn't anything more than a basic upgrade from something they own already? What the fucking fuck is that all about? I don't think it's the slightest bit snobbish to judge these fucktards for their vacuous stupidity and interests. I can be a big enough geek over some of the more useless things I'm interested in. I don't spend my free time looking for the cure for cancer or designing rockets that can take people to Mars, but these people are serious fuckwits.

And a hearty FOAD to the radio stations and stores, malls, restaurants, etc., who are going to start playing nothing but Christmas carols on Thanksgiving. Don't get me wrong -- Christmas carols are fine *in moderation*. But when you hear them everywhere you go, their specialness wears off by, oh, December 1st. After that, it's like the Chinese water torture ("AIIIEEEE! Not another version of "I'll be home for Christmas! I can't take it anymore! I'll tell you whatever you want to know: Where Jimmy Hoffa is buried, where the extraterrestrials are, whatever. Just no more carols, please!")

Yeah, yeah, I know.... Bah, humbug.

Shortcutting the names of celebrity or, worse, fucking fictional TV couples into some cutesy single name kindly please to be fucking off.

Not even, Julie. I'm so tired of Christmas by the time it's over and all of the advertisements, commercialism, "merry" music and jolly ho-ho-hos that December 26 is a fucking relief when it finally arrives.

Well, also, bad treacly versions of Christmas carols can sod off. I really, really, really, really loathe two carols in particular:

"Do you hear what I hear?" (AAAAAGH! Nails on a chalkboard!)

"The little drummer boy" (there are a number of really horrible jokes I could make here involving the phrase "rump a pump pump" but I won't.)

Oh, the Jesus shoes one too. (This is a recent song - a really awfully done bad-sentimental country and western style song about a poor kid buying his mom a nice pair of shoes because she's dying, and he wants her to look nice to meet Jesus. This song makes my head explode every time I hear it not just because it is aesthetically offensive to me but because it is such bad fricking theology. The whole freaking POINT of Jesus being Jesus is that He's not going to care what kind of shoes your momma wore when she died! Aaaagh!)

Oh yeah, I hate "grandma got run over by a reindeer" too.

Actually, to tell the truth, I hate most Christmas music that's in the "public sphere." The Christmas music I like - the serious old carols or religious music - don't pass muster with the "We're wishing you a merry Christmas but we don't want to offend you if you don't really believe in Jesus" crowd.

I like Bing Crosby too but you don't hear him all that often in the Muzak Christmas rotation any more.

Julie - you are exactly right. In fact, if I were a bit of a conspiratist I'd surmise that making people sick of Christmas is an excellent motive behind starting earlier and earlier every year. Even people who love the holiday get weary. It fits the pattern of getting things backwards - instead of preparing for Christmas and then starting to celebrate on Christmas Day, they do all the celebrating until the day itself, and then wind up unable to cope.

So FTFO to all these corporate cannibals who decide to push the tinsel earlier and earlier. The Knob-On Award goes to Reese's in this particular - I actually saw "Reese's Peanut Butter Trees" on NOVEMBER FIRST at Linens n' Things. First of all, that's "EGGS" not trees and should be a special treat; Second, it's not much of a treat if you repackage and resell every doo-dah day of the year; Third, TOO FLIPPIN' SOON with the trees. A great big dry-needled pine-scented FTFO, already.

Please kindly remove all religious references, aka "Christmas", and replace with "Holidays."

Thank you,

the Nanny State

Val,
Hahahaha. Even better, anyone who shows up here that is offended by the word "Christmas" can fuck off.

There are very few Christmas songs/CD's I like. One is Jimmy Buffett's "Christmas Island" CD. Another is "The First Christmas Record For Children" (available at Amazon) which includes Captain Kangaroo's (Bob Keeshan's) narration of "The Littlest Snowman". I am 47 years old and I still get teary-eyed when I hear it.
Oh, and of course "John Denver and the Muppets: A Christmas Together". ("PIGGY pudding?!" "No, Miss Piggy, it's FIGGY Pudding. Made of figs." "Oh, OK." "... and pork.") :-)

Fuck off, Kohl's. Thanks to the incessant Christmas music in your stores, I am now a slave to a continual loop of Wilson Phillips' "Hey, Santa."

And no, I don't want to apply for your credit card. Stop asking.

FTFOAD to the bimbette ahead of me at Einstein Bros. this morning. I KNEW what I was getting - plain bagel w/shmear and water for the boy, yogurt and very large coffee for me. But I couldn't order because of YOU.

So FUCK OFF you FUCKTWAT, with your tiny running shorts, tiny running shirt and matching little fucking running shoes even though you obviously hadn't been running because you were trying to juggle your fucking car keys and your fucking pink cellphone. And FUCK your inane questions:

"Can I get cream cheese on that bagel? Oooh, maybe I should get it toasted? Is that coffee over there? What kinds are they?" At this point, she made the cashier READ THE FUCKING SIGNS OUT LOUD TO HER. "I guess I'll have two? Is that creamer? Do you have 1% milk instead? I don't know anything about coffee? Is that really Splenda? Can I get lowfat cream cheese instead?"

FUCK YOU. And fuck your parents, too, for reproducing and unleashing such a fucking imbecile on the world just so she could be in front of me this morning.

Why do I have to restrict myself to December 29th?

Bingley,
Something tells me you wouldn't even if it were required.

You know me too well, m'dear.

Next time we're in a bar together I'll bring the laptop; think of the fun we will have drunkblogging live!

Shannon - seriously, no fake? She said "is that coffee over there?"? Like maybe a bagel place WOULDN'T SELL COFFEE? Like she was visiting at someone's house and hinting she wanted something? Gah.

I really, really, really hate the "special order" people when I get behind them in line. You know, the "I want my sandwich on slightly toasted rye bread, but not too toasted, and I want the chicken salad made with soy mayonnaise instead of the regular kind, and I don't want tomato on it but I do want sprouts...

They should have special lines for those people only. And make them order in those lines. Maybe after they get stuck behind a few princesses like them (and I include the men in that; men who do that kind of "I have fifty-eight different specific preferences for my hamburger and I am going to request every single one" are princesses too as far as I'm concerend), then they might wise up.

For example: I hate shredded lettuce on sandwiches. So what do I do when I order a sandwich from a carry-out type place that puts shredded lettuce on it? I pick it off before I eat it, because I know asking for "no shredded lettuce please" will slow down the line for those behind me (And the idiot working the counter will probably forget and put the damned lettuce on anyway).

(And the people who want to tell me I'm going to Hell for wasting food can sod off. Personally, I do not consider shredded lettuce "food." Nor do I consider the tomatoes that most fast-food places use to be "food.")

My attitude: if you want something EXACTLY the way you want it, fix it at home. Because even if you bore the counterboy with your piss-ant preferences, he's still probably going to get it wrong, accidentally or on purpose. Cooking food for yourself is not that hard.

Ricki,
Without going too overboard on the psychoanalysis, having worked in food service for a number of years, my theory on people like that is that they usually crave attention or have the need to feel different or "special" and they take it out on people that are basically captive to it - waiters, cooks, deli clerks, etc. Shannon gave a good example of this - the skinny, annoying bimbette who has to remind you every twenty seconds that she's on a diet and has very special low-fat needs. Fuck you.

And "on the side" people can fuck off, too.

Ricki,

i used to work with a guy that when one of us went to BK would order his lunch like this:

I want a Whopper, extra hot with a toasted bun, mayo on both breads, no pickles, one tomato, extra ketchup, no mustard, cut in half.

of course, he'd always get just a regular whopper when I picked up lunch and when I handed it to him I always gave him the Dont even think about complainng face. Fuckturd.

Mr. Bingley.. I'm sure the two women who created NaDruBloDa wouldn't mind if you kept it going all year although technically, you'd be taking part in a NaDruBloYe.

I decided to add my two bits by giving all those people without blogs a way to participate and so, in the same speed and fury as two teenagers having sex in the basement with their parents home upstairs... NaNoBloDriAnDa was created today.

I can keep this relevant to the thread by offering a Fuck Off to anyone who doesn't understand that NaDruBloDa is a freakishly awesome thing for these two gals to have come up with.

Cheers/Salut/Bottoms Up

One of my favorite scenes from "LA Story" (reprinted from imdb.com):
Guy with neck-support: I'll have a decaf coffee.
Trudi: I'll have a decaf espresso.
Movie critic: I'll have a double decaf cappuccino.
Policeman: Give me decaffeinated coffee ice cream.
Harris: I'll have a half double decaffeinated half-caf, with a twist of lemon.
Trudi: I'll have a twist of lemon.
Guy with neck-support: I'll have a twist of lemon.
Movie critic: I'll have a twist of lemon.
Cynthia: I'll have a twist of lemon.

No shit, Ricki . . . she turned around, looked at the six coffee dispensers on the counter and asked what they were. And the cashier told her what kind of coffee was in each one, even though there were SIGNS hanging from them.

I think she had been at the gym. This incident happened close to the 24-Hour Fitness that is ultra-special because all the perfectly coiffed bimbettes that wear HUGE rocks on their left hands and smack of second-wifedom put on their makeup to go work out there.

While I'm at it? All those chicks who need to put on a full face of makeup and do their hair to go work out in the morning can fuck off, too.

Shannon,
If there is one thing I cannot stand, it's the big rock chicks. I used to work at a restaurant in Manhattan Beach (snobbish, well-to-do L.A. area, for those who don't know), and there'd be so many of these women coming in. They didn't just wear their rocks, they SHOVED them in your face, as if pussy-whipping some schmuck into wastING an enormous wad of cash on a ring is a mark of fucking character or personal acheivement or something. This isn't bitch-catty jealous complaining because I don't even like diamonds and would turn down any guy who gave me one (and have. Sorry, dude, if you don't know me well enough to know that I don't like expensive jewelry and don't want some phoney engagement ring, you don't know me well enough to have any business asking me to be your wife). I cannot stand those dumb chicks. Listen, fuckwad, all you've done is fallen victim to a tradition that was essentially borne from a fucking MARKETING SCHEME TO SELL DIAMONDS.

"And a hearty FOAD to the radio stations and stores, malls, restaurants, etc., who are going to start playing nothing but Christmas carols on Thanksgiving."

And I second and raise that Fuck Off and Die, with knobs on. Anyone else who'd ever had to work retail in December knows I say this with the proverbial blazing white hot intensity of a thousand suns.

Emily - I saw so many of my friends get stuck on the ring. One, who was marrying a lawyer, really needed that status symbol. She searched for months for the perfect canary diamond, found it, ended up spending over $15,000 on it, and there remained two irrefutable facts:

1) that thing was ugly as sin, and
2) she was still marrying a total asshole.

I'm so with you on not needing the rock. One of the best gifts I've gotten was when my boyfriend gave me the DVD of "Jackass: The Movie" for my birthday. Because that shows he KNOWS me. And loves me anyway.

I guess I'm one of those people. I don't want cheese on my Big Mac, I don't want gravy on my mashed potatoes, and I'd like a little mayonnaise on my BLT from Arbies but not the half-pint they usually slather on there so I ask for no mayo on those. I get about 50% compliance. It was funny, the other day at KFC, when about 5 people confirmed that I did NOT want gravy on my mashed potatoes, and when I got home I found it on there anyway, which somehow I knew I would.

Here is a great Christmas CD. Love the "Baby It's Cold Outside" duet, Brian Setzer and Ann Margret.

Julie - "Oh, I may be too little, but I do my part, said the littlest snowman with the red candy heart." What a blast from the past. I'll have to look for that.

Brian Setzer rules, with or without his orchestra. He can definitely NOT FOWKO. Him, we like.

While I'm at it, an anti-FOWKO to the Thomas Sweet chocolate shop in New Brunswick, NJ, who on November 17th have exactly ONE Christmas decoration: an unobtrusive bear in a Santa cap who reads the first stanza of "Twas the Night Before Christmas." The rest of the store is Thanksgiving turkeys, and gourds of every description, and a huge honkin' scarecrow and harvest-themed window display. I went in and bought something from them on the spot, just on general principles. Huzzah!

Complete load of rubbish deleted by administration. If you want to leave entries that long, boring and nonsensical, start your own blog. Thanks - E

Gosh, for at first glance I thought I was in for a scorching piece from Val. Imagine my surprise. WTF?

I second that WTF. I didn't readily see eveb one "fuck off" in it so fuck off if you think I'm going to actually read it.

Laura,
I'm not sure about others here, but I'm not necessarily talking about "hold the cheese" people. That's fine. Hold the gravy is fine and a perfectly reasonable request. I'm talking about people who want cheese, but want it cut into 1/4" strips and placed in a hatch pattern across their burgers with exaclty - no more, no less - 0.06 oz of mayonnaise divided in equal parts on either side of the bun with the lettuce and tomato on the side because lord knows a chef that prepares burgers for a living couldn't possibly place these items correctly. I don't know if you've ever worked in a restaurant and encountered people like this, but they exist in frighteningly large numbers.

Bingley,
Something tells me you wouldn't even if it were required.

Oh yes, that's Bingley. Such a causeless rebel.

Ah.