If you’re like me and have kids in college or teens on their way to higher education, then you probably are facing the same financial squeeze that we’re experiencing right now. Back when we scrimped and saved to pay for our kids’ Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, we weren’t really thinking that we’d have to pay about eight years worth of B’nai Mitzvahs to put both our kids through college. The good news is, our money woes have inspired this week’s column. Without further ado I present Go F**k Yourself Friday, the Finance Edition…
Go F**k Yourself Property Tax Bills…Just as we were getting ready to celebrate the New Year, that unmistakable blue bill wound up in my mailbox on December 31. Go F**k Yourself property tax manager who thought it would brighten my spirits to receive a whopping bill the day before I started 2019. Seriously, you couldn’t wait until January 2? Once I send in a kidney to cover this bill, I cannot wait until the next one arrives in April – just in time for tax season. Oh, and now that we can no longer write off part of our property tax bill due to the changes in our tax laws, I hate you even more. Here’s hoping that in a few years we can sell our house and move somewhere like Maine where they have no taxes and cheap lobster.
Go F**k Yourself FAFSA…If you are a parent of a college bound student, then FAFSA has become the bain of your existence. While I have a masters degree and my husband has an MBA, we always seem to screw up this application year after to year to the point where it always gets rejected at the 11th hour. This time, we’ve filed the wrong IRS form for our daughter from 2016 even though it’s the only form we filed for her. Huh? With tuition rates skyrocketing at colleges across the country, applying for FAFSA is worse than a visit to an oral surgeon – no offense to oral surgeons out there but I can’t imagine root canal being fun.
Go F**k Yourself People Who Can Afford to Take Over the Top Vacations During the Holidays…Yes, we saw you relaxing by the pool with your perfectly pedicured toes. We caught your family beach shots in Cabo. We even saw you skiing in the Alps, biking in Costa Rica and zip lining in Hawaii. Please understand, we are thrilled you were able to afford to pay top dollar for your vacation getaway and you totally deserve it, but here’s the thing. We scrounge up cash every year to travel to the hottest places on earth during the summer months because it’s cheaper and we can’t afford to travel during the holidays. Maybe I just need to delete my Facebook account this time of year so I don’t get jealous. Or maybe I can fast forward to six years from now when my kids will be off the payroll and we can finally travel to the Caribbean or South America when the temperature outside isn’t 120 degrees Fahrenheit.
Go F**k Yourself Health Insurance Companies….When I became an entrepreneur, I never thought I’d have to pay the salary of an entry level teacher for my health care insurance but fast forward a decade and here we are. Since we no longer have an employer covering our medical expenses, we now pay more than what it costs to send one of our kids to a New York State school for a plan that doesn’t even cover certain prescription meds. The other day, my daughter had to get a prescription for eye drops and her doctor gave her two choices – a $10 version and a more expensive one that wouldn’t burn her eyes. When she found out the pain free eye drops was $150, she opted for the stinging sensation in order to save us a few bucks. Thankfully, my daughter is already learning the value of a dollar but seriously, what kind of madman is setting prices at those drug companies anyway, forcing people to choose between medication that will burn your eyes or a more expensive version that won’t? That’s just seriously wrong and there’s nothing funny about that at all.
If you’re like me and feel like you’re in a canoe that’s sprung a leak, I hope you got some laughs before you start paying your bills this month. The good news is, you’re not alone. The bad news is, it still sucks. Here’s to a debt free Friday and a fabulous weekend!
Don’t get me wrong, I am as crafty as they come, but there are certain things in life I have no desire to do myself. See if you can relate…
Go F**k Yourself Nurse Ratchet – Even though you were first in your nursing school class, that doesn’t mean my father-in-law wants to learn how change his own catheter bag. I know insurance plans stink nowadays and they kick you out of the hospital immediately after surgery, but what’s next? Will you be teaching my mother-in-law how to do a tracheotomy or master a crash cart in case someone at the beauty parlor flatlines?
Go F**k Yourself Blue Apron – While I do enjoy your meals after I’ve spent an hour preparing them, the one thing I hate more than anything is when you send me a bag of potatoes, five unpeeled carrots, one clove of garlic or a whole lemon and expect that I have the tools to effortlessly slice and dice them. Newsflash – I do not own a mincer or a zester and while I did buy a mandolin, my bloody fingers are now worse for the wear. If you want to make things easy for me then chop those vegetables first and save me at least 20 minutes on prep time.
Go F**k Yourself Self Service Gas Stations There are certain things I just don’t like to do and that’s pumping my own gas. Sure, that might sound pretentious but I always get nervous after fumbling around with the nozzle, that I won’t know when to stop or that I didn’t screw the lid on tight enough. As I drive away, I worry that I’m going to be leaking fuel all over the highway causing an explosion if I drive past an oil tanker. Yes, I have a wild imagination, but some people are afraid of snakes. I’m afraid of pumping gas.
Go F**k Yourself Supermarket Checkout – I’ve spent the last hour navigating my way through narrow aisles getting stuck behind a woman with a kid throwing a tantrum because his mom won’t buy him Fruity Pebbles and now you want me to check out my own groceries and bag them myself? What happened to those Employee of the Month plaques where you praised the fastest cashier? Is supermarket chivalry dead? Methinks that sadly it is…
Go F**k Yourself to Picking My Own Movie Seats Online What ever happened to showing up for a movie early, scoping out the place and picking out the best seat in the house because we got there first? These days, even if you are punctual, you could totally be screwed by someone who snagged your seat online and then shows up after the movie starts. There are certain things that still should be first come first served and even if it’s a free for all or a running of the bulls to get the best seats, that’s part of the adventure of going to the movies. Ya snooze, ya lose.
It’s supposed to be the most romantic time of the year, but honestly, how many of you are sick of Valentine’s Day? Whether you’re married and wait to the last minute to get a card and all that’s left are the really sappy ones, or you’re single and have called your girl squad to assemble so you can drink yourself into oblivion, there are so many FU’s I have for this special Hallmark invented day that I just can’t pick one.
Go F**k Yourself Restaurants with Special Prix Fixe Valentine’s Day Menus: You know exactly who you are. You know that February 14 is on the slowest night of the week, and yet, you decide it’s time to charge triple what you’d normally charge for the most expensive items on your menu. To add insult to injury, no one can even order from your regular menu so it’s Prix Fixe or bust. And then, since your chef is cooking the same thing all night, the filet mignon tastes like shoe leather and the wasabi whipped potatoes are cold. Spare me the Prix Fixe or I’m staying home.
Go F**k Yourself to Bad Tasting Chocolate: Truth be told. One of my most favorite things to do is eat chocolate but typically, I go for the rocky road fudge or a small square of dark chocolate when I’ve got a 4pm sugar craving. But on Valentine’s Day, all bets are off. Instead, I’m gifted a tantalizing box of chocolates but every time I take a bite, the surprise inside makes me gag. I mean, who on this planet actually likes orange cream flavoring? If I’m expecting salted caramel on the inside and you give me chocolates infused with chili flakes, then I’m going to throw the box at you.
Go F**k Yourself to the Person Who Decided that Valentine’s Day Should be Celebrated in February: Out of all the days of the year, you have to pick the one where the temperatures are below zero and the odds of there being a blizzard are pretty high. I still remember the two incidents when we went out on Valentine’s Day in the middle of a snow storm. The first time, we were practically the only ones in the restaurant and they still charged us the prix fixe menu and the second time, we went to see a Broadway show and stayed overnight in the city. I was not wearing snow boots and the sanitation and salt trucks were nowhere to be found. So I walked through the slushy mess in my suede booties and by the time we arrived back at our hotel, my feet were blocks of ice. So romantic.
Go F**k Yourself to Florists Who Rip People Off on Valentine’s Day: Whenever I think of Valentine’s Day, I think of flowers and when I think of flowers, I think of my wedding day and when I think of my wedding day I get pissed off. The reason? Our florist, Stefan’s gypped us that day and never put hydrangeas in our centerpieces and to add insult to injury, my mom’s cleaning lady mistakenly through my gorgeous bouquet away. Yes, I know these memories bear no connection to paying through the nose for long stem roses or a bouquet that looks beautiful when I order it online but is pretty sparse when it arrives at your front door, but either way, I have no tolerance for florists who know they are ripping me off and think I’m not going to know any better. News flash: I am a flower snob. Only send me spectacular flowers or don’t send me any flowers at all.
Go F**k Yourself to Really Stupid Valentine’s Day Gifts: The dumbest ad just popped up in my Facebook feed – an $11 romantic scavenger hunt for two just in time for Valentine’s Day. First of all, why the hell would I want to be going outside in the dead of winter to look for gifts on Valentine’s Day? Don’t stick my diamond earrings in the woods. Make sure it’s safely put away where it belongs – in a blue Tiffany box with a nice white bow that’s carefully tucked away in your pocket. Don’t make me search for diamonds. Just buy them for me, hand them over and you will effectively make my day.
If you do celebrate Valentine’s Day, I hope you get everything you want out of it – great chocolate, a delicious dinner that’s not overly priced, beautiful flowers and diamonds, lots of diamonds.
As someone who really isn’t interested in football, this time of year can be a bit frustrating for me. I mean, I don’t mind the commercials or the halftime show but honestly, the obsession about the “Big Game” is really a bit over the top if you ask me. But since everyone is talking about the Super Bowl this weekend and I know I’m in the minority, here’s a big ole’ FU to some of the things that really get under my pigskin.
Go F**k Yourself NFL for Making People Call the SUPER BOWL “The Big Game” – If you’re not in the media industry you probably don’t realize this but any time you see a commercial or a news report about the Super Bowl, you might notice that it’s being called “The Big Game” instead of what it is…the friggin’ SUPER BOWL! The reason is simple — it’s all about money. The NFL licenses the name Super Bowl and brands pay big bucks to have access to that name so if you try to leverage that name to gain more viewers or add a few more customers, you could be looking at a lawsuit. Hey NFL, SUPER BOWL, SUPER BOWL, SUPER BOWL. Now go F**k yourself because I don’t even like football anyway.
Go F**k Yourself to Super Bowl Party Hosts Who No Longer Invite me to their Shindig – Sure I didn’t really like most of the people at your party and pretty much dreaded going each year but that didn’t mean I didn’t want an invite. I guess the fact that I don’t actually sit down to watch the game gave you a hint that I wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t on the guest list. Think again – I still liked the nachos and chicken wings. It was the actual game I couldn’t care less about.
Go F**k Yourself to the Guy Who Yells at the TV thinking someone is listening to him – I know I can get a bit over excited during the finale of America’s Got Talent and may even emit an audible sob during a particularly emotional episode of “This is Us,” but I know that nobody can hear me. So why is it when a player fumbles a ball or a referee makes a bad call that you feel it’s your duty to curse at the screen and coach from the sidelines even though no one can hear you through your 72 inch TV monitor. Just keep drinking your wife-bought Michelob Ultra and shut the F**k up.
Go F**k Yourself to the New England Patriots – I know there are plenty of Patriots fans out there but honestly, do you have to make the Super Bowl every single year and be so smug about it? Even when we think you’re about to bite it, you manage to always make it to the Super Bowl to just annoy people in every other part of the country except for the people who live in New England. Just retire already Tom Brady and hang out with your wife and kids. Gisele wants you to buy her a yacht with the Brinks truck full of money you get every year for throwing that ball around. Honestly, in my next life, I’m coming back as a professional quarterback or a supermodel.
Go F**k Yourself Over the Fact that the Super Bowl is on a Sunday – Honestly, what nitwit decided to play the Super Bowl on Sunday instead of Saturday night? If you have to be at work at 8am and have had 10 beers and a bucket full of wings the night before, how productive do you honestly think you’ll be Monday morning? Let people get their party game on and give them a day to recuperate. Super Bowl Saturday still sounds just as catchy as Super Bowl Sunday.
Following an incredibly stressful week, I have discovered that one of the most cathartic things I can do for myself is write. This column has become a great source of therapy for me as I share all the things that get under my skin. Tonight, I present to you, Go F**k Yourself, the Zero Patience Edition.
Go F**k Yourself Excruciatingly Slow Driver who is driving 15 miles under the speed limit. Maybe you’re lost or you just like to take in the scenery but either way, I need to pick up my son who’s waiting for me outside in 12 degree weather wearing a flimsy parka. Either keep the Cadillac Seville in the garage or get the f**k out of my way!
Go F**k Yourself to the guy on the Metro North platform who hip checked me on his way into the train. We’re all headed to the same place and if you think you’re going to give me the stink eye when you sit in the six seater where me and my girlfriends commence our morning gabfest, you’ve got another thing coming.
Go F**k Yourself to the Oblivious Pedestrian who is texting and walking at the same time. I totally get that we all get distracted when someone sends us a message that must be a matter of life and death, but seriously, if you don’t watch where you’re going, you could be hit by a city bus or fall through the sidewalk.
Go F**k Yourself Couple Who Arrive at the Movies two minutes before the film is supposed to start. We’ve been here for 20 minutes feeling cozy in our electronic recliners and then the two of you stroll in with your soda, M&M’s and jumbo popcorn and then force us to stand up. Seriously, get your s**t together and get here in time for the previews like the rest of us.
If you live on the east coast, then you’re getting ready for a massive snowstorm and temperatures that will make it feel colder than Antarctica this weekend. Nothing like a blast of bad weather to put me in a foul mood. And so dear readers, today I present to you, Go F**k Yourself Friday, the Nor’easter edition.
Go F**k Yourself Canadian Goose Coat companies that always make me question whether that $750 investment in a puffy black coat with a fur lined hood is really that worthwhile. But then we hit frigid temps and I’m left standing outside on a train platform staring at people with that signature goose patch on their arm who I know are feeling balmy in 12 degree weather. Me, on the other hand, has lost the feeling in my texting fingers.
Go F**k Yourself Obsessive Snow Shovelers. You know who you are. You’re the neighbor whose driveway is completely free of snow the moment the last flake lands on the pavement. Your front walk is cleared away and you can easily drive your car and walk to your front door without slipping on a patch of ice. Sure I’d love to be you too but the problem is, I didn’t invest in that Canadian Goose down coat so I can’t spend more than 15 minutes outside without freezing my buns off. Plus, I hate shoveling snow so there’s that.
Go F**k Yourself People with Empty Garages. Yes, we’re that family who needs the chick from that decluttering show to spend a weekend in our garage cleaning out all our crap so we can park our cars and not have to use an ice pick to chisel our windows. But you are sitting pretty. You’ve got fancy shelves and everything is hung properly on the walls so you can actually use your two car garage for your cars and not for an old couch with shredded slipcovers that you should have thrown out three years ago.
Go F**k Yourself Invisible Teens who no longer walk up and down our block offering to shovel our driveway for a nominal fee. I guess they’re all toasty warm playing Fortnite for 17 hours and counting. I’m starting to think I need to convince my mom friends to start playing Fortnite too because once my Beverly Goldberg loving crew starts honing in on their beloved game, they’ll give it up for good.
Go F**k Yourself to the Person who Makes the Call on Unnecessary School Closures. Don’t get me wrong, if there’s a blizzard outside, I definitely don’t want to be driving my kid to school but if we have had a light dusting, that’s not a reason to close the school. Oh and don’t even get me started on those 5am delayed opening wake up calls. Whatever happened to those days when kids would trudge a few miles in the snow just to make it to school? Yeah, I didn’t do that either so never mind.
Go F**k Yourself to the Snow Plow Driver who Just Ruined my Shoveling Job I have already mentioned that I hate shoveling snow more than I hate losing the circulation in my fingers on a train platform. But after I toss my shovel back into the garage, I hear a whooshing sound in the background and then see out of the corner of my eye that a snow plow has just spread a foot of snow from the street back onto my driveway. Seriously? I’m going to follow you home, rent a snow plow and wreck your driveway too.
Despite the mountain of snow that we’re expecting I have to admit, I’m kind of looking forward to some hot chocolate with marshmallows and a six hour Netflix binge. Have a great weekend everyone and stay safe and warm!
We’re just about to start the weekend, so I figured it would be a good time to devote a Go F**k Yourself column to the things that drive us nuts when we go out to restaurants. As someone who likes dining out a lot, we’ve had a lot of positive experiences and the restaurants that we love are doing everything right. But sometimes, there are things that just get under our skin. See if you can relate…
Go F**k Yourself to Restaurants that Don’t Serve Unsweetened Iced Tea. A few years ago, I made a commitment to detox from Diet Coke. As a result, my drink of choice became unsweetened iced tea. One would think that’s an easy beverage request but I’m honestly baffled every time I go into a restaurant, ask for my iced tea and they respond that they only have sweet tea or no iced tea at all. Here’s the thing. If you serve tea and you have ice, then guess what? You have unsweetened iced tea!
Go F**k Yourself Space Invader. You know who you are. You’ve just walked into an extremely cozy restaurant whose tables are really close together. Rather than give the people who are dining their space, you decide to hover right near their table, bumping my elbow as I reach for a roll and a glass of malbec. Back up b*tch and move over to the bar.
Go F**k Yourself Loud Talker. I know you probably don’t hear yourself, but I do and I’m about 30 feet away from you trying to have a quiet dinner with my husband. I don’t really care about your high stakes job as a bond trader or about the girl who you totally blew off because you are an a**, but if you could just stop dropping the F bomb in every sentence, that would make everyone’s restaurant experience a whole lot better. I really don’t mind people who curse but if you’re going to shout profanities throughout my entire meal, I am going to walk over to your table and tell you to go F Yourself.
Go F**k Yourself Waiter with No Timing Whatsoever. So we sat down about 20 minutes ago and you still haven’t stopped by our table. Then after you finally brought our drinks and took our order, you started bringing out our appetizer and entree at the same time. Then, when you could clearly see we were in the middle of a heated discussion, you came over to see how we were doing and whether we needed anything else. No I do not want crushed pepper on my risotto but I do want a sprinkle of parmesan cheese but now I can’t find you and my food is getting cold. Some words of advice to ensure a seamless restaurant experience – ask for my drink order as soon as I sit down and make sure you bring water and rolls tout suite. Never bring my appetizers and entrees together and if I’m having an argument with anyone, just stay the F**k away from my table until I give you the high sign that the coast is clear.
Go F**k Yourself to the Restaurant Dinner Loiterers Everyone is entitled to having a nice leisurely dinner without being hassled but if you know a restaurant is busy and there’s a line out the door of people waiting to be seated, that should be your cue to get the F**k out. Pay the damn bill, put on your coat and go to the bar if you still want to hang out with your friends. When I’m really hangry, I will pay your bill for you just so I can sit down and eat.
Since my family, friends and perfect strangers are hopelessly addicted to our digital devices, I’ve decided to devote this week’s column to the digital demons that are taking us away from experiencing things IRL (that’s “in real life” for those of you wondering, what does IRL mean anyway?)
Go F**k Yourself Junk Mail Spammers
To all the companies that somehow got a hold of my email address without my permission and proceed to send me emails every day of the week offering advice on how to slim down, save a sea urchin, donate to a political campaign in Idaho or offering me a new credit card with 0 APR financing…get the F**k out of my inbox!!! I did not ask to be put on your list and because of you, I have to delete at least 100 or more junk emails per day. This year, I’m going to just start unsubscribing to all those junk messages or maybe I’ll just be radical and live like a millennial by completely ignoring all my emails in the first place.
Go F**k Yourself Snapchat
Admittedly, this selfie inspired app is not really meant for me and I still have no idea how it really works. What I do know is that both of my kids spend hours each day snapping weird pictures of themselves so they can keep up with their crazy 365 day streaks with friends. It wouldn’t really bother me except I know they’re snapchatting whenever I ask them a question and all I get is complete silence. So thanks Snapchat for causing my kids to totally ignore me. Maybe I need to start a snapchat streak with my kids so they will start communicating with me on a regular basis. Then again, maybe not.
Go F**k Yourself to Any Major Site that Doesn’t have a Human Customer Service Rep
This past week, one of my business websites completely disappeared. I haven’t touched the site in months, I paid all my bills on time and yet, when you enter in the URL, it’s completely vanished. When I tried to get to the bottom of the issue, I discovered that WordPress doesn’t have a single human being working on their customer service desk, leading you to be diverted to a third party company that can help fix your problem but I’m convinced they probably hacked it in the first place. Meanwhile, my hosting site, GoDaddy, also connects you via Liveperson and then starts speaking to me like I’m a web developer, leaving me completely frustrated and bewildered. If you can’t employ humans to talk people like me through crisis situations, than please warn me in advance that I’m on my own if something screws up. Otherwise, I’m left with an error message and a big old holy crap I need to start all over again scenario that I’m really not looking forward to dealing with in the New Year.
Go F**k Yourself to Apps Whose Notifications Wake Me Up at 3am
I know there’s a quick fix to not getting notifications on my phone – just turn on the do not disturb mode before you go to bed, but on those occasions that I forget to do that, I really don’t appreciate being woken up by Houzz that a lamp just went on sale, or finding out on NextDoor that an outdoor cat named Pickles hasn’t returned home yet. Not that I have anything against Pickles but seriously, unless there’s a state of emergency or if one of my kids needs me, I do not want to be woken up like Pavlov’s dog at three in the morning by an incessant ding from an app company whose headquarters are clearly not in my time zone.
Go F**k Yourself to Websites that Don’t Work on Google Chrome
Truth be told, I’m a Google Chrome addict and typically have about 20 tabs open per day. In fact, today, I have 23 tabs open and while my husband gets apoplectic seeing all those open tabs, I’m totally in control and on top of my to-do list. What bothers me is when I attempt to access a website where I need to input information and can’t even find the login option because it doesn’t work on Google Chrome. That means I have to turn on my antiquated Safari browser to access the site and then login knowing they will ask me my password and I will have no clue what it is because Google Chrome remembers all my passwords and Safari is trapped in the early 2000’s and it doesn’t remember s**t. My hope is that in 2019, everyone knows their site has to work on Google Chrome. Otherwise, it’ll be like those restaurants that don’t use Open Table. If I can’t find you on my OpenTable restaurant app, then you just don’t exist to me.
I hope you all have the opportunity to do a digital detox before the New Year. I can’t promise that I will but I do know, I’m going to try not to let tech get to me in 2019. Oh, who am I kidding? It will get to me and I will deal with it because honestly, I can’t live without it.
It’s supposed to be the happiest time of the year, but in the past week, I’ve seen stories about how people have the most heart attacks during the holidays while others are totally dreading having to spend time with relatives who don’t share their political views. For those of you who are completely stressed out this time of year, this one’s for you…
The Holiday Music Militia: Go F**k Yourself to all the people insisting that “Baby It’s Cold Outside” be banned from the radio. I really don’t mind that song at all and am not offended by it, but after day 35 of non-stop holiday music, I’d like to ban radio stations from playing holiday music 24/7 just to torture everyone this time of year. By Christmas Eve, I’d like to get plenty more songs out of my head right now, starting with “Santa Baby.”
The Holiday Letter Writer: I know it’s taken you at least three weeks to craft your “year in review” letter that you’ve decided to share with people who haven’t actually seen you this past year, but a serious Go F**k Yourself goes out to the people who recap the wonderful year they had by sharing all the amazing things that happened to them in 2018. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so annoyed about your letter if I had actually experienced one of those incredible moments with you. News flash: Time to prune your mailing list so you don’t send your stupid letter to people who you haven’t actually spent any time with in years.
My Fat Cells: Yes, I know that fat cells are not a person but since they have been my nemesis my entire life, I’m going to give a big old Go F**k Yourself to my fat cells that I know will be expanding this holiday season and will probably set me back again as I start the new year. I’ve been working hard to shrink all of you but I’m also a sucker for baklava, butter cookies and anything else that’s sweet and a billion Weight Watcher points. I know I’m going to hate the fact that I can’t fit into my skinny jeans come January 2nd so I’m just cursing you out in advance.
Restaurants that are closed on Christmas Day: I totally get that you need to close down or else we’d be serving ourselves this time of year, but still, Go F**k Yourself to restaurants that leave people like me with little options other than Chinese food and movie theater popcorn.
People Who Wait to the Last Minute to Buy Gifts: Truth be told – I deserve a big old Go F**k Yourself for this one too since I always wait until Christmas Eve to buy gifts. I know I totally could have bought stuff in October or when I bought a new coat last week that was on sale at Lord & Taylor, but no. I’d rather trek out in the pouring rain, circle the parking lot five times to find a spot and then walk a half mile without an umbrella to Barnes & Noble just so I can buy a book I totally could have ordered on Amazon if I actually thought about it a few days ago.
In all seriousness, I hope all of you have an absolutely wonderful Christmas and New Year. Enjoy the craziness, the gifts, the food, your family and friends and most of all, enjoy the fact that there will be plenty more Go F**k Yourself columns in 2019 to keep you entertained.