Summer is finally here and that means one thing. Most people I know are making plans for road trips, barbecues and beaches. Sadly, my plans this year don’t include any of those things. And so, I present to you Go F**k Yourself the Holiday Weekend Edition.
Go F**k Yourself to the People Who Bought My Parents Hamptons House – In a previous column, I took aim at my parents’ realtor so today, as I think about the countless summers I got to spend in the Hamptons, I’m cursing the people who will get to spend their weekend in what used to be my family’s summer getaway. Sure, it’s not your fault you wanted to get a nice place in Southampton but that means there will be no more visits to my favorite boutique, no more Sunday mornings at the Farmers Market and no more lobster at Oakland’s with a view of the Long Island Sound. Yes, I know these are totally first world problems but there’s something to be said about having a Hamptons house. I guess next time around, we need to buy our own. Time to purchase some scratch off tickets because that won’t be happening anytime soon.
Go F**k Yourself Party Hosts with Out of Control Kids – I know that when it’s a holiday weekend you’re not supposed to complain when your neighbors invite all their friends over for a huge barbecue but here’s the problem. First, everyone parks their car in front of our house which riles up our dog because she thinks someone is coming to visit. Except they’re not. Next, you’ve invited a ton of families with little kids and since we don’t have a fence, they are running all over our yard, jumping on the trampoline we haven’t used in years and using the swing set and monkey bars that could very well be infected with termites. We wouldn’t know since our kids haven’t used those in 10 years either. But it gets better. Your party goes on all day into the night and while you and your friends head inside, your kids are still running around and screaming at the top of their lungs even though it’s 1:00 am. Seriously, if you’re going to host a barbecue – either invite me to it or tell your kids to stay the hell off my jungle gym.
Go F**k Yourself Loud Beachgoers – You get to the beach after everyone has claimed their perfect spot and you camp out within inches of our blankets and lounge chairs. You then set up your portable speaker and sync your iPhone and within seconds, the peaceful sound we were enjoying of seagulls and crashing waves is rudely interrupted by Kanye West and some other rapper whose lyrics are laced with so many curse words that I can’t concentrate on my novel anymore. I know you think no one else exists except you, but newsflash…there’s a reason Dr. Dre invented Beats. Why not invest in a pair so we can go back to enjoying a peaceful day at the beach.
Go F**k Yourself Highway Patrolmen with Ticket Quotas – I know it’s important that we don’t speed, drink under the influence or text while driving out to the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore, but do you really need to do a random seatbelt check right when we get off the highway? It’s already taken us 39 hours to get out there but to cause a traffic jam just so you can make your ticket quota for the month really drives me to drink. Except I can’t since I’m driving. So there’s that.
Go F**k Yourself to People Who Schedule Late Meetings on a Holiday Weekend – Just because you don’t have anywhere to go this weekend doesn’t mean the rest of us want to stick around for an afternoon powwow. The next time you decide to plan a meeting after 4pm on a holiday weekend, make sure you do it poolside with complimentary Mai Tais.
On that note, no matter where you go or what you do, I hope you have a fantastic Memorial Day weekend!