Go F**k Yourself Friday…the DIY Edition

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?

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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.

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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.

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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… 

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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. 

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Super Bowl Edition

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.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Zero Patience Edition

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!

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…The Restaurant Edition

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!

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Finance Edition

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. 

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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!

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Holiday Edition

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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Ghost Edition

Today’s post goes out to all the people who disappear into thin air thanks to social media. In 2018, we call this practice “ghosting.” I’m happy to say, that this post is a collaborative effort since so many of us have experienced ghosting firsthand and are annoyed by its most prodigious practitioners. If you are among then, go f**k yourself … but first hit reply. Your soul could use the exercise.

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The I Refuse to Text You Back Ghoster: Go F**k Yourself to the brainiac who doesn’t realize WE CAN SEE you’ve read our message. Duh. Either you don’t want to reply or it’s gotten lost in the sea of insipid, unanswered texts and emails swimming in your inbox. Life is hard, we know. Hitting send hurts.

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The Didn’t I Used to Work with You Ghoster: Go F**k Yourself to former co-workers with whom you once worked close but now won’t recognize your name if it was blasted in an Amber Alert. Hello? Bueller? We only sat next to each other for 10 years. Just pretend you know, m’kay? And then respond. Amnesia’s moment is over. 

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The Job Ghoster: Go F**k Yourself to the HR dimwit who sets up interviews with a promising candidates and excitedly suggests a follow up interview. Then disappears faster than a sexual harassment complaint. Hate to break the news, but this is YOUR JOB. Recruiting, meeting and hiring employees is what you get paid for, and if the job isn’t a right fit, SAY SO! People talk, and nothing leaves a worse taste in your mouth than the vanishing human resources rep. Put the “human” in your title and just act … human?

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The Sorry But Do I Know You Ghoster: Go F**k Yourself to old friends who joined you in climbing up the ladder, and continued climbing long after you left and now can no longer see anyone below. “Hello … hello … hello (echo sound) Remember me? I was holding your hand when you gave birth in the elevator. Still no? Hmm, maybe I have the wrong email. Or am going into the spam filter. Perhaps there’s an assistant pruning the in-box? Or maybe the former “friend” is just a phony who is too important to call back. What goes up must always come down (except Cher, she can survive anything).

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The Ghost Thief: Go F**k Yourself to the brand or business that reaches out to you for help with their business, fawns over your creativity, then steals your ideas without so much as a phone call or email  No problem, have at it! They’re all yours! It’s not like anyone needs to make a living or anything.

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The Half Ghost: Go F**k Yourself to the “friend” who you reach out to for a small favor or question, only to get a useless, one sentence reply that is as helpful as a drunk guy giving you directions to JFK. Thanks!

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Go F**k Yourself Friday, the Trip Down Memory Lane Edition

I’ve been on this planet for a pretty long time now and as a result, there have been a lot of things that have happened in my life that have pissed me off. I have shared a few of them in some of my FU Friday posts but today, I have decided to take a trip down memory lane so I can share some fresh Go F**k Yourself Friday love with some pretty crappy people from the past.

Go F**k Yourself to Tony Robbins. Yes, that Tony Robbins. While I was excited to be motivated by you to be my very best self and even fist pumped Gayle King at your event, I will never forget the time that I spent more than 12 hours in a freezing cold room with thousands of other people as I felt myself getting sicker and sicker by the hour. By 1 am, after I couldn’t think straight anymore, we were led outside and I lost complete control of my senses when I was instructed to walk across hot coals. Now bear in mind. I am the person who hates riding scary roller coasters, yet something in my brain snapped and I race/walked across burning hot coals and wound up with blisters on my feet and a lung infection – not from the hot coals, but the sub zero temperatures I endured inside that day. Plus, my husband got totally pissed off at me because I didn’t call him for 12 hours and he was about to send out a search party for me. Thankfully, I resurfaced, came to my senses and never attended another Tony Robbins event again. Instead, I am hopelessly devoted to Mel Robbins because she’d never make me walk on hot coals. Maybe she’d share a hot coffee with me, but coals, never.

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Go F**k Yourself Aladdin Capital for firing my husband almost 10 years ago. Since the company is now out of business anyway, I felt like it was a good time to give them a piece of my mind. There was one point in my husband’s life where he thought he was going to spend the rest of his career at that company. They had just given him an incredible bonus and he even convinced me to take a chance, leave my stable job and start my own my company. But then, they pulled the rug out from under him and his friends after the market took a downturn (hello 2008), and we were like a couple out of the Roaring 20’s.  Bye bye Lexus, hello Hyundai. We’ve survived despite our brush being on easy street but a serious Go F**k Yourself goes out to his bosses at the time who seriously turned our American Dream into an episode of Sanford & Son.

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Go F**k Yourself to the former client who kicked me out of a limo when she was having a bad day.  I had just started working with her and my team had lined up a bunch of interviews to promote the new season of her show. Unfortunately, as the day wore on, a few interviews we had scheduled fell through and by the time we got to the end of the day, she got really pissed that things weren’t going her way and proceeded to yell at me and threw me out of the town car we were riding in. I then walked to the train station in tears and vowed never to work with horrible women like her again. While I was convinced to come back for the rest of the season, after witnessing her torture more of my colleagues, I finally decided to reclaim my dignity and walk away. I have also vowed to never work with toxic people again and damn, that does feel good. 

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Go F**k  Yourself to my old boss who, while going through a midlife crisis, bought a convertible sports car and waved me on one day while he was pulling out of the parking garage next to our office building with one of his friends. I was nine months pregnant and trudged along as I walked to the subway station that was several blocks away. I later found out that he had told someone that he didn’t want to hire anyone else who was planning to go on maternity leave because it was more trouble than it was worth. He has since retired and embroiled in a scandal that he’s going to have to probably deal with for a very long time so karma, thank you very, very much for all that you do. 

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Go F**k Yourself to the Person who mistakenly sent me a really mean message about me that was meant for someone else. I will never forget the searing words she used about my sub par writing abilities and that she also labeled me a “serial bridge burner.” If you happen to know who you are and are reading this, consider this one of those bridges burned.

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Thanks for the memories everyone! Now make it a good day and if not, well you already know the alternative.

Go F**k Yourself Friday…The Pet Edition

Thanks to my cousin Jeff, today’s post is inspired by our pets, Santana, Hazel, Jasper and Guapo. For the most part, our pets are some of the most pampered on the planet, but they do get pissed off at us from time to time. So I’ve decided to give our furry and scaly housemates the floor today so they can finally share what’s on their minds…

Hazel’s Side-eye: Go F**k Yourself Grandpa for kicking me off the kitchen table this morning so you can drink your morning coffee and eat your toasted bagel with peanut butter. Don’t you know that I enjoy lying across the placemats while Beth watches MSNBC on her phone in the morning and Darin is out walking Santana? There’s nothing better than sprawling out on that table especially when I know the coast is clear and I’m not going to have to pole vault into the dining room once the dog comes back into the house. I know it seems unsanitary, but I seriously clean myself 20 times a day. You have nothing to worry about, except maybe a few cat hairs in your black coffee.

Hazel gives Grandpa the side eye

Guapo’s Rant: Go F**k Yourself for keeping me cooped up in a fish tank for the better part of seven years. I know you tried to make the place look nice. You gave me beachfront property and a window view of the backyard, but seriously, I’m three feet long now and would really like to relocate to Florida. I hear that Boca is quite nice. Maybe next time you drive down there, you can drop me off so I can find my long lost bearded dragon relatives.

Guapo plots his escape to Boca

Jasper’s Revenge: Go F**k Yourself Santana for chasing me and Hazel away from the bedroom because you are clearly the favorite. That’s okay. We were here first and we will continue to taunt you by sleeping in your dog bed and drinking from your water bowl. You can’t scare us with your silly bark. You know we have the upper hand since no one ever trims our nails and we can use them like ninja steak knives if you piss us off. 

Santana vs. Squirrel: Go F**k Yourself mailman, Fresh Direct delivery man, UPS driver, landscaper, Uber Eats guy and anyone else who attempts to come to my front door and I don’t know who you are. Don’t worry, I don’t actually bite anyone who comes in the door but if you do not let me kiss you on the face or pet me, I will keep barking until you hit the road. Oh and FU too squirrel who always manages to taunt me on the porch. I will get you one day. I just have to figure out how to bust out of the sunroom.

Go F**k Yourself squirrel. I see you taunting me right outside the sunroom. Not funny. Not funny at all.

Thanks for stopping by this week. Hope your pets treat you as great as ours do. And on that note, time to walk the dog…

Photo credit: Jake Danishevsky

Go F**k Yourself Fridays…the Black Friday Edition

I promised myself I was going to stay away from all those crazed Black Friday shoppers today but as the day wore on, a few stores were calling my name and sending me way too many emails so I broke down, loaded my family in the car and off we went.

I figured since we were hitting the local strip mall near our home, it wouldn’t be as insane. What I failed to realize is that people somehow forget how to drive when it’s crowded, and as a result I was able to come up with material for this week’s column.

So without further ado, allow me to present to you the Black Friday edition of Go F**k Yourself Fridays…

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Go F**k Yourself woman with the handicapped parking pass who cut me off while she was texting on her phone. Just because you have special parking rights, doesn’t mean you should cause an accident because you keep staring at your cell phone while driving with one hand.

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Go F**k Yourself to the lady taking an inordinate amount of time pulling out of her parking spot even though she has put away all her bags and turned on her car. There’s 15 cars vying for your spot – make it quick and hit the road. An honorable mention Go F**k Yourself goes out to the driver who tried to steal the spot from me after I was waiting patiently for five minutes for the other shopper to leave.

To the parents of the kids who are running around the hosiery section of Lord & Taylor unsupervised, go f**k yourself and get your kid. There’s nothing more aggravating than kids playing hide and seek while I’m trying to buy bras and underwear.

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Go F**k Yourself to the retailers who cause mass hysteria because people think they’re going to walk away with a 72 inch flat screen TV for $5. Seriously, the last place I want to be at midnight is pressed up against the glass doors of Walmart.

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For the next month or so, we are going to be flooded with holiday music and the unwritten rule has always been that “Santa Baby” can’t commence until the day after Thanksgiving. Go F**k yourself to all those radio stations that jump the gun and start playing Christmas music right after Halloween. I guess now that it’s Black Friday, all bets are off. So on that note I present to you…

Please feel free to chime in with your own Go F**k Yourself Black Friday stories because sharing is caring.

Happy Holidaze!