it comes in pints?

It is NOT all about you, dammit! It's about ME!

And I am not, and probably never have been, drunk enough to safely watch that video.

(Once again, Emily wins the "hit it right on the head" prize with her observation.)

Mine? People who want something to be done about a situation, and, even though they have the time and the resources to at least begin to take care of the problem, prefer to sit on their asses and complain how "someone needs to DO something!" especially while they're looking hard in the direction of the poor saps who always wind up doing the thankless volunteer tasks anyway.

They can fuck off.

So can the people who volunteer the poor saps when said poor saps aren't around to object, because "They'll always help out."

***

Other things that can fuck off? (This is because so many people around me have some kind of painful/life-threatening condition - it's just horrifying what people I care about are going through)

degenerative disk disease
liver failure
congestive heart failure, high blood pressure, and other circulatory problems
untreatable aneurysms that might "blow" at any time
C. difficile
kidney failure
Even Reynaud's Syndrome, which isn't as bad, but it makes someone I care about miserable during the winters.

And especially, cancer. Cancer can fuck off with red-hot, glowing, radioactive knobs. And stinky foot cheese. And thorns, spikes, and nails.

Cancer can absolutely fuck off.

Snake oil politicians who turn and shift with every poll whisper and degrade faiths and beliefs while appealing to baser emotions can fuck the fuckityfuck off with rusty diebold machines.

Or*cle can fuck off.

Oh, Emily, you said it. I don't think a religion that gives people a persecution complex is really making their lives any better.

And Ricki--there oughta be a law against volunteering other people to do things. I "third" the FO on cancer. One of Sheila's posts this week reminded me this week of my friend whom that vile disease took.

As for my FO's: People who believe that being married and/or parents makes them superior to those who are not, and makes them endowed with some gnostic wisdom not in possession of those of us who aren't, can totally fuck off. As a corollary, any hosts who try to rescind an invite as the result of this arrogance can fuck off with a tube of desitin shoved up their asses.

The driver who rode my bumper yesterday morning,
the driver in front of me me this morning who didn't clean the snow off his car AND took turns slowly/rolled through stop signs while yakking on his cell phone,
and the driver who passed me in the left lane in the school zone (speeding!) right before work, then cut in right before me at the second-to-last turn before my office AT A SNAIL'S PACE. . .

. . . alla youse guys can FTFO with fuzzy dice.
You know what? To take a page out of "Goodnight Moon," fuck off bad drivers everywhere. I've had enough this week.

Micronesians can fuck off. They have a cool name, and I don't.

Marc -- there's nothing to keep you from calling yourself Micronesian. It won't be honest, but like that's ever stopped you before.

Drunks who torment captive animals and then claim martyrdom while not cooperating with investigators can FOAD. The truth has come out, and it looks like the tiger was a good judge of character.

Unlike some, I have limits to my lies. And false-Micronesianing is one of them. All false-Micronesianers can fuck off.

Of the few things you would pick to have scruples about, I'm not surprised something that stupid would be one of them, Marc.

"Marcronesian" has a pretty good ring to it.

Julie--no way! I didn't hear about that yet.

The fucking ass hat in the Lexus who was in front of me to get gas this morning, who started the pump, then went inside the mini-mart for FIFTEEN minutes while I, and several other cars were stuck waiting for him to move his overpriced piece of shit out of the way so that we too could purchase some liquid gold and get to work on time. Oh no, fat chance of that. It is only important for Mr. Lexus to get to work on time, apparently. When he finally did grace us all with the long anticipated return to his car, he had to take even more time to organize his newspaper, cradle his coffee in the holder, plug his cell phone into the charger, change the radio station, or whatever the fuck he was doing in there. When I finally honked at him to move his sorry ass out of the way, HE flipped ME off. Dude.

Mr. Lexus can fuck off with a gas pump, coffee, newspaper and cell phone lodged up his sorry ass.

And cancer, and those morons on Tom Snooze's team can fuck off with him.

Kate P-
Yep, here's the link:
http://www.click2houston.com/news/15081805/detail.html

I was going to say "the tiger had good taste", but I thought that might be over-the-top, even for a FFOT. :-)

Maggie,
Ah, yes. Mr. Lexus clearly paid extra for "the asshole option" when he bought what he mistakenly believes to be his symbol of status.

You have a nice car. Good for you. You're still an asshole.

Sheila and I have been e-mailing about those videos for the last two days. I believe the last one was entitled "Holy Shit." The part about only Clams can help accident victims? Sure sign of MENTAL. ILLNESS.

I've gotten where I can't even stomach these idiots' work. "I Am Legend?" "Mad Money?" "My Name is Earl?" Fuck 'em all. I'm not paying money to go in their pockets anymore. They make me sick.

(Oh, and speaking of gas? People who don't pull up to the farthest pump and make me drive around them and then BACK UP to the pump can fuck off.)

Lisa - what about the one where Tommy starts going off about how when people in Hollywood are in trouble, they come to him for help? Really, Tommy? EVERYONE? I mean, does Lauren Bacall come to you? Did Orson Welles ask you for diet tips before he died? Sidney Lumet asking for help with removing his thetans? Jackass.

And he has PERSONALLY gotten 100 million billion squillion people off of drugs, all the while claiming Scieneosnot has made him an amazing, wonderful, caring, exceptional, immune human being.

That's not your religion, Tom. That's your fucking EGO.

Sore muscles can fuck off.

Cancer can fuck off three times a day.

Bureaucratic prima donnas who think that the organization is for THEM and THEM alone can fuck off and die using red hot paper clips dipped in ass pie.

Politically correct and pretentious elected officials should be ass plowed by the ghost of George Washington wielding a cheese encrusted quill pen.

And Emily gets a vote for "Fuck Off of 2008" for her Clam-oriented fuck off rant. Nail, hammer, head.

Thanks, Julie--wow, I didn't realize there was a drinking prerequisite for enjoying the ZOO. Idiots.

And go, Maggie May, for honking at the jerkwad. I live in the 'burbs and I still wouldn't think about leaving my car unattended like that.

My upstairs neighbor can fuck off.

It starts at ten or eleven... the chattering, the whining, more chattering... echoing thumps across the floor above us, making us fear that part of the ceiling will break and we shall have company literally drop into our laps.

Our neighbors upstairs are a family of raccoons.

I poked my head up into the attic to investigate this morning - the fiberglass is all chewed into little cubes and piled about like pink snowdrifts. This must have been their winter home for years to have done so much remodeling. This also means that their happy little warren runs right along the ceiling plaster in spots. And there is nothing to be done about it until the exterminators can come out on Monday. We may sleep on the air mattress in the living room so we don't have creatures falling on our heads at three a.m.

Unless you plan on leaving a check on the end table, o critters of nature, get a dumpster somewhere and fuck the fuck off.

Ive made an appointment with a shrink for Monday because this is like the fourth week in a row where I dont have a FFO. FUCK! That FUCKING pisses me off.

Val not having a fuck off can fuck off. Quick, somebody kick him in the nuts to piss him off!

Razor sharp winter boogers can fuck off. I blow my nose, and it's like my brain is throwing little ninja stars at the inside of my nose again.

I'm going to pretend that Marc did not write that.

HAHAHAHAHAHA - that's awesome, Val. "Doc, I need help. I'm too damned happy! Can you un-adjust me?"

I don't know whether to be concerned about Val or ask him to share his prescription. . .

The day I see the Clams open a soup kitchen or an AIDS hospice without any possible advantage to themselves, then I'll listen with a straight face to their claims to be a genuine religion.

Meanwhile, they can all fuck off. Clearly.

Joel,
Never mind that. I'll settle for them dropping the "Fair Game" practice of believing they're justified in personally, professionally, and financially ruining the lives of anyone who criticizes them. And they'd probably have to drop all the lying, too.

Yeah, I haven't had anything surly to say on my own behalf in a few weeks either.

I've been drinking the happy horseshit Kool-Aid. I love me some Tom Cruise. Makes me and my problems look NORMAL. And I feel so grateful that I am not from the fuckboat (LOVE THAT!) gene pool that produces room temperature IQs and hails from Kentwood, LA.

I will, however, second the other fuck offs to cancer and ass bandits who commandeer the dimensions of time, space and fucking PATIENCE at the gas pump.

I submit that Entitled Lexus Guy was in the gas station bathroom attempting to extract last night's buttplug.

Oh, Marc, oh, Marc, I am shaking with laughter.

Are you, by any chance, who Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes) became when he grew up? Because I remember one of the favorite strips of his featured Calvin complaining about how his boogers froze in the winter.

***

And as for "the tiger had good taste," if it's over-the-top and wrong, then I guess I'm wrong too, because it made me laugh. (And I guess the tiger maybe likes its dinner marinated in wine or vodka beforehand?)

Then again, I think anyone who taunts a captive animal (even a dog that's chained) can most heartily fuck off, so whatever.(And apparently, some of the asshats involved in the attack WERE taunting the tiger.)

Fuck that I can't read or DO anything during jury duty. Fuck that I have to go back for DAY 3 on Tuesday and that we still haven't picked a jury.

Yay for alcohol.

Anything that might possibly take a pen out of Tim Blair's hands can fuck off. Yes, I'm talking to you cancer, you vile insidious hidden little fuckwad of vegemitian slime and subterfuge that slowly eats away someone in incremental nibbles, never drawing too much attention to yourself until your tendrils have pervaded all throughout someone to the point where attacking you means also attacking much of what is good and healthy. But that's your little game, isn't it? To get you we must also harm that which is still good. You fucking bastard. Well you know what? Fuck you. We will do that, we will make the effort. You will be fucking destroyed in our friends, in our loved ones, in our parents and siblings, in ourselves. Fuck you.

Well said, Mr. B. Birthday hangover becomes you.

I've decided to make it a 4 Day Weekend Bender, so the hangover is scheduled for Tuesday.

Err.

Can somebody explain to me in words of one syllable what the fuck scientology is supposed to be. Just watched the cruise video and he is clearly mad as a fucking hatter but apart from that revelation i'm none the wiser.

confused,
In short? Presented in monsyllables, as requested... a scam pulled from the ass of a con man.