Go F**k Yourself Friday the Holiday Weekend Edition

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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On that note, no matter where you go or what you do, I hope you have a fantastic Memorial Day weekend!

Go F**k Yourself Friday the Small Business Edition

If you’re a small business owner, then you’ve probably experienced a lot of headaches along the road to success. Don’t get me wrong, there are days when I’m walking on a cloud because I’ve landed a huge placement and other times, I just want to pack it in and open a flower shop. When those moments arise, I do what I do best….write. Without further ado, I present, Go F**k Yourself Friday, the Small Business Edition!

Go F**k Yourself to the “ROI” Client – As a publicist, it’s sometimes difficult to measure how a media placement can immediately lead to sales. In some cases, it’s pretty straight forward – an author appears on a TV show and they see a spike in Amazon sales. But in other instances, it’s really tough to predict what will motivate someone to buy a product. That’s why every time a client is fixated on ROI (return on investment) I know I am doomed. When you hire a publicist it’s like going to Vegas and playing the slots. Sometimes you’ll win a bunch of quarters, other times you’ll keep feeding the beast and every once in a while, you’ll hit the jackpot. If you don’t have the stomach for gambling, then please do us both a favor and don’t hire me. But if you’re ready for a fun ride, then hit me up with some quarters and let’s do this!

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Go F**k Yourself to Subscription Services that Suck Away My Cash – I finally bit the bullet and cancelled a Quickbooks account for a business I have that’s no longer generating revenue. But it took me several months to finally log onto my Quickbooks account and figure out how to cancel it in the first place. That’s the thing about expensive subscription services – they hide their cancellation button so well that you just decide to give up and keep paying the fees. Thankfully, I took the time to finally cut the cord and am glad I’m not flushing cash down the toilet anymore.

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Go F**k Yourself to Clients Who Trade Chickens in Lieu of Checks  – I keep hearing from friends that instead of paying them what they are worth, their clients are offering them a free hotel stay, a fancy dinner, or free haircuts for life. While it’s always wonderful to have perks in your life, perks don’t pay the bills. I’d rather pay my own way, get paid for what I’m worth and then pay my bills on time.

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Go F**k Yourself to Big Clients Who Take Forever to Pay– There is nothing worse than landing a new client who takes advantage of your good nature and decides to pay you on their timeline – which can sometimes be a month from now, 60 days away and in some cases, never. If you were on a construction site and didn’t pay your workers, do you think they’d come back each day to operate the crane? I don’t think so. Pay up or stop wasting my time.

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Go F**k Yourself to Toxic Clients – I learned this lesson a few years ago when a client would literally interrogate my team during meetings and her yelling and verbal abuse became so intense that we actually fired her. No matter what someone is willing to pay, there is nothing worse than getting sucked into the world of someone with a toxic personality. If you meet a client who is prone to yelling, belittling your work or just being rude to you no matter what you to do, then life is too short. Fire them first before they fire you.

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And on that note, it’s time to start the weekend. Yabba Dabba Doo…I’m outta here!

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Hurry up and Wait Edition

When one of our pipes broke the morning of Passover this year, I realized how lucky I am that technology has enabled me to find plumbers, upholstery cleaners and appliance repairmen at a moment’s notice. I also have discovered that the easier it is to find people to fix things, there are plenty more who still drive me bonkers because they are like speed bumps – I may be driving at 60 mph but BAM! out of nowhere I hit a speed bump and everything just stops. In honor of all those human speed bumps who drive impatient people like me crazy, I present to you, Go F**k Yourself Friday, the hurry up and wait edition…

Go F**k Yourself Roto Rooter – You totally took advantage of me when I first moved into my house and didn’t know a good plumber after the previous owner’s kid flushed a pen down the toilet and clogged the whole system. Roto Rooter sounded familiar so I flipped through the phone book (remember those days) and the Roto Rooter service man came over within a few hours, diagnosed the problem and then charged us an arm, a leg and the name of our first born to fix it. Fast forward to Passover morning when I instantly found a very nice plumber on Thumbtack, he proceeded to stop by within an hour of our corresponding and quoted me a totally reasonable price to fix my pipes. Sayonara Roto Rooter – looks like your price gauging plumbing disaster days are over. 

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Go F**k Yourself Bank Rep Who Wanted to Eat Lunch Instead of Deal With Me – Truth be told, I hardly visit my local bank anymore. I can deposit checks from my phone and pay bills online so I really have no need to stop inside and speak to someone. But this week, I needed to get one document notarized and also had to get a letter from the bank as part of my daughter’s student visa application. What I thought would take 10 minutes turned into a 90 minute ordeal when I stopped into my local bank and it felt like a ghost town. As I looked around for someone to help me a woman who was returning with her lunch proceeded to tell me they didn’t have a notary on staff and I needed to get that letter via online customer service and not at my local bank branch. She then sent me to another location to get the letter notarized and when I got there, their notary told me she couldn’t do it. Thankfully, I did get the other letter I needed which means the bank rep at the first branch just didn’t want to deal with me in the first place. Listen up bank reps – if I hardly every visit your bank, you may want to be a little more helpful when I stop by for something important. Otherwise, I will close my accounts and take my business to a place where people are more than happy to help me with whatever I ask for. Incidentally, when my bank wouldn’t notarize my letter, we walked over to HSBC and one of their reps did it instead – even though I don’t even have a bank account at their bank. Hey there reps at my current bank, I’ve got some choice words for you but I’m going to let Julia Roberts do it for me…

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Go F**k Yourself to the Pricey Salad Place in my Neighborhood where the workers always seem to be filling online orders instead of waiting on customers who are literally staring at them in the face. There’s a well known franchise in my area that makes ridiculously expensive salads that I typically cave in and visit at least once a week. However, it’s been pretty frustrating lately trying to get the workers’ attention because they always seem to be filling orders for people who aren’t even there. You see, even though the place has been empty on the few occasions I have visited, the salad makers behind the counter always seemed preoccupied fulfilling online orders, so I stand there like an idiot waiting at least five minutes to place my romaine lettuce with grilled shrimp, tomatoes, cucumbers, apples and Greek yogurt dressing because someone ahead of me who isn’t even there is having their salad made because they ordered it first on their app. Seriously, if you see a real live person staring you in the face waiting to place an order, then stop what you are doing and take care of them. I don’t care if people are ordering from Uber Eats, Door Dash, Postmates or the app for your pricey salad joint – if you see me, ask me what I want NOW or you probably won’t see me again…at least not until next week. 

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Go F**k Yourself to Ride Share Drivers Who Say they are 3 minutes away but it’s more like 10 – here’s another pet peeve of mine. If it’s cold or rainy outside, the last thing I want to be is standing outside braving the elements because my Uber driver claims to be three minutes from picking me up. As I stare at the app watching as his car goes backwards and forwards and then backwards again, I’m left wondering what the hell that driver is doing. Even though the app keeps saying he’s 3 minutes away, suddenly, it increases to 4, then 8 then back to 6 and back up to 10. It’s one thing if it’s 70 degrees and I’m enjoying the fresh air but if all I want to do is get in a car so I can warm up, don’t tell me you’re around the corner when you’re clearly lost, dropping off another passenger or just too damn slow.

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Go F**k Yourself to the ‘I’ll Be there Tomorrow’ Guy – I happen to have many of these people in my life. Something breaks down in my house and Mr. Fixit assures me that he’ll be there tomorrow morning. But then the morning passes by and he says he’ll be there later in the day. And one day leads into the next and soon another week goes by until suddenly, when you’re nowhere near your house, the repairman shows up and wonders where you are and why you weren’t waiting around for him. Here’s the deal. I don’t work well with people who say they’ll be there that day and don’t show up for another two to three weeks. If I’m not home when you finally decide to stop by, I guess I’m going to have to deal with going yet another day with a broken appliance and you’re going to have to deal with not being paid because I’m not there. Here’s a piece of advice, when you tell someone you’re going to be at their house the same day, don’t leave them waiting, wondering and checking to see if you’re receiving their urgent texts. Ditch the excuses and just show up!

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Go F**k Yourself Friday – the week of WTF

Sometimes, a series of events happen throughout the week that cause you to give people the side eye while you make a mental note that they just made it into your column without them even realizing it. So this week, as I juggled work and life events that kept me busy, annoyed and on my toes, I decided to devote this week’s column to the random acts of crazy that made me stop a minute and say WTF?

Go F**k Yourself to Politically Correct College Tour Guides – I’d like to start this missive by first saying, I am totally on board the politically correct bandwagon, but sometimes, I think my progressive friends have seriously gone off the deep end and this week was no exception. While at a college tour with my son, four of the tour guides introduced themselves by stating their names and they added that they go by the pronouns “He, him, his” or “Her or she.” I looked at my son and asked him, is this a thing now? Because, honestly if it is, I’d like to be addressed as “Miss,” “Hey lady,” “Bitch” but whatever you do, don’t ever think of calling me ma’am. 

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Go F**k Yourself to the Second Guesser – You haven’t worked in my industry for at least half a dozen years and yet, you decide to start questioning my work and then insult me in an email and cc my client. You know what? What if I take a little break and you take over from here? Just use your rotary phone to call your contacts who no longer have landlines, don’t respond to emails or are out of work looking for jobs too. Don’t ever claim you know how to do my job unless you’re in the trenches right along side me. Otherwise, STFU and get out of my way.

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Go F**k Yourself to the Steamroller – I used to work with someone who would literally push you out of the way if it meant she would get ahead faster than you. While the people around her were minding their business and doing their jobs, she used her connections and pushy attitude to get whatever she wanted and didn’t care if she stepped on her co-workers along the way. This week, I met someone who totally reminded me of the steamroller and as I watched her in action, it took me back to those awful days when I always found myself watching my back. The good news is, I’m my own boss now and she’s someone else’s nightmare, not mine.

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Go F**k Yourself to People with Hidden Agendas – This past week, I invited a few media contacts and bloggers to a really fun event and for the most part, everyone was really nice, had a great time and wrote positively about their experience. But there always has to be a few bad apples in the bunch and this was no exception. First, there was the pushy paparazzi photographer whose unflattering video promoting the event literally made me cringe. When I told him to take it down, he then got mad at me because he said it took him an hour to create it. Well, take 5 seconds to delete it and you’ll make my day. Then, a reporter who works for a major gossip magazine interviewed my client and proceeded to write something that had absolutely nothing to do with the event I had invited her to see. Lesson learned – even though it’s great when people say they’d love to attend an event, sometimes you’re just better off telling them to stay home or attend another event where they can totally annoy someone else.

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Go F**k Yourself to Supermarkets with Super Small Kosher for Passover Selections – For my fellow tribe members who host seders this time of year, is it just me or have supermarkets really started carrying less and less Passover fare? I mean, I shouldn’t have to travel to three supermarkets to find a jar of red horseradish and would it kill you to carry something other than coconut macaroons? This week, after striking out three times on the horseradish, I finally broke down and went to the uber expensive kosher supermarket that just opened in my neighborhood. Not only did I find the horseradish, but I even tracked down two packages of pupiks for my grandmother’s classic fricassee recipe. Granted, when I asked one of the workers if they carried pupiks, he looked at me like I was nuts but I was determined. Plus, I knew there was no way my neighborhood supermarket carried pupiks since I’m lucky if they carried gefilte fish. Thankfully, after searching through one of their freezers, I struck pay dirt and found the pupiks myself. Here’s the deal with Passover – if you work in a kosher supermarket, when Passover is around the corner, you need to brush up on some Yiddish food lingo stat. And if you’re the store manager for Stop & Shop or ACME, it’s time to give Passover an entire aisle and not just three shelves filled with gluten free matzoh, white horseradish and borscht. For the record, while the Catskills might have been known as the “Borscht Belt” during the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel era, no one I know eats borscht at their seder. Now pupiks on the other hand…that’s a whole different story.

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And on that note, I have to go make some matzoh ball soup. Happy Holidays!!!

Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Furniture and Appliance Edition

Truth be told, I have had a lot of topics that were rattling in my brain lately and I really wanted to channel that anger and frustration into this week’s column, but like a fine wine, I think my toxic thoughts need to simmer a bit before they become funny. And so, I decided instead to tackle a topic that everyone can relate to whether you own a home, rent a home or live in an apartment. So without further ado, I present to you Go F**k Yourself Friday the furniture and appliance edition.

Go F**k Yourself to the moving company that was oh so nice to my dad when he was moving all his stuff to my cousin’s house, my house and his place in Florida. Anything he wanted, no problem, they’d take care of it. But when they delivered his entertainment center to my house with a HUGE scratch on one of the doors, my dad gave me their number to call because they told him they’d fix anything that broke or had an issue. When I called them and emailed a photo of the damage, they said they’d get right on it. That was seven days ago. Today I called again and got a busy signal. What is this, 1985? I haven’t experienced a busy signal since I had a rotary phone in my bedroom – and that was in Canarsie when I lived with my parents! Get it together movers and fix my furniture or else I’m going to keep calling, emailing and texting until you get back to me. Busy signals do not scare me!

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Go F**k Yourself Slipcover Company and other products that are supposed to deter my cats from wrecking my furniture but never seem to work. This past week, after my parents gave me a few couches and a bed, it only took a few days for my cats to start making trouble. First they began digging their claws into the arms of my new sofa. Then they left their mark on the bedding and mattress upstairs. Eventually, their cat hair was tracking every piece of furniture we just added to the living room and den. And so, I did what any person who is trying to outsmart her pets would do. I ordered pet slip covers from Sure Fit and bought sticky tape from the pet store. After the slipcovers arrived, I put them on the couches but the cats managed to still claw at the only parts that weren’t covered – the arms. So I put the sticky tape on those parts and by the time I came home last night from an event, the tape was already peeling off. As far as the bed upstairs, my only saving grace is I can close the doors to keep them out. But either way, no matter how much I spend on trying to protect my furniture, nothing is going to help. Those cats are always two steps and three claws ahead of me and it drives me nuts.

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Go F**k Yourself Washer & Dryer that always breaks down right after the warranty runs out. Out of all the appliances in my house, the one thing I have had to replace over and over again has been my washing machine and dryer. I know that we do a lot of laundry each week, but the washer really shouldn’t be filled with water after the spin cycle is done and it shouldn’t take 90 minutes to dry socks. Sure, they don’t make appliances like they used to, but we shouldn’t have to replace them every 2-3 years like an iPhone. Just let me throw the stuff in and clean my clothes already. Oh and if someone can come up with an appliance that folds laundry and puts it away, I’ll take that too.

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Go F**k Yourself Refrigerators with Really Small Freezers. Sure, the double door refrigerator seemed like such a cute choice when we picked it out at the appliance store but then we brought it home and found out that we can’t open the freezer door all the way since it slams against the wall. Then, every time I forget that I have already bought a box of Elio’s pizza for my son, I have to figure out how to fit all those frozen boxes in the fridge like I’m putting together a Jenga puzzle or something. One false move and the chicken, meatballs and frozen shrimp will come tumbling out of the bottom shelf. One day, I’ll get one of those fridges with a big bottom freezer. For now, it’s shove everything in and hope that my Halo Top ice cream doesn’t melt.

Go F**k Yourself in Advance to my Heat and AC Unit. You’ve literally been hanging by a thread every year and each time our plumber comes over for yet another repair he warns that this could be the year we need to replace you. Yet, we still hang on, hoping you’ll survive another season. Whether it’s the coldest day of the year or it feels like we’re living in a sauna, that’s exactly when my HVAC unit decides to crap out on me. Unfortunately, my plumber now has a full time job so he fits me in about two weeks after I text him that we have lost feeling in our lower extremities. Sure all we have to do is throw on a few more sweaters or buy a fan, but I just want to be able to turn on the heat or AC without it involving a prayer session.

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Pet Peeve Edition

These last few weeks have been a bit stressful to the point where things that usually roll off my shoulders really got under my skin. But that means all of you are in luck this week because I am sure you have all experienced these annoyances in our lives that force us to silently scream at someone in our heads even though we’d really love to go postal and make a scene. And on that note, I present to you dear readers, Go F**k Yourself, the Pet Peeve edition!

Go F**k Yourself to the person who never responds to my emails when I request something from them. Yes, I know there are people out there who just don’t read emails or don’t respond to texts that I know they have read because it says “READ” after I sent it. They go through their day ignoring incoming messages and when they look back at their phone or computer a few hours later, they suddenly realize they have amassed about 100 emails and texts. They then spend the rest of the evening playing catch up and that one email that came in from me asking for something OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN somehow gets forgotten about until I am totally up against my deadline and then miraculously, after I send a terse – I NEED IT NOW or you won’t be included message, it suddenly shows up. I know not everyone can be like me and instantly respond to an email or text at a moment’s notice, but if I ask you a question and there’s a deadline attached to it, change the settings on your phone if you don’t want me to see that you’ve read my message or for F**k’s sake, JUST RESPOND!!!!!

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Go F**k Yourself to People who Display Bad Buffet Line Etiquette – For the record, I really don’t like buffets – I like to sit down, place an order, enjoy conversation with my friends and family and not deal with other people I don’t know. But when you’re on a buffet line, all bets are off. From the super slow senior who is taking his time deciding between the salmon and the whitefish salad, to the double dipper who grabs a veggie stick, dips it in ranch dressing, takes a bite and then dips it again, to the buffet tray hog who sees the hostess coming his way and cleans her out of pigs in blankets, when you’re on a buffet line, I’ve got a newsflash for you…you’re not the only one there! Move it along Gramps, dip once or put a dollop of dressing on your plate and whatever you do, don’t ransack the cocktail frank tray – you know everyone loves them, except the vegans – so let the rest of us carnivores enjoy the appetizers and take two or three for yourself.

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Go F**k Yourself to Urgent Emails from Politicians – I know I’m back to emails, but since I spend so much time online and I just checked my email, I had to call this one out too. I know that politicians have a hard time reaching voters but for some reason, my name has wound up on so many email lists that I can’t keep track of how many people want money from me. It’s urgent! The world is about to fall apart! You must do this now or else we stand to lose everything! Or my personal favorite, the subject line that seems like it’s from my best friend but in actuality, it’s from the Cheri Bustos campaign. Who the hell is Cheri Bustos anyway and how did I even get on her list??? Before I start unsubscribing from all those political e-blasts, here’s my word of advice to politicians – do not send me a message every single day of the week. I know you want my donation but if you keep asking, you will get what Grandma Dora used to say to people who pissed her off: Ice in Winter. 

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Go F**k Yourself to People Who Cancel Commitments at the Last Minute Due to “Family Emergencies” Now don’t get me wrong – if you truly are experiencing a family emergency, I have no problem accepting the fact that you won’t be able to make it to work today. But if you are on your fifth family emergency of the month, then something tells me you either have a lot of drama going on at home or you need to come up with way better excuses for why you can’t get your a** to your job like everyone else. Better to tell the truth about why you can’t honor a commitment than wait until the last minute to drop a bomb on someone who was totally counting on you.

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Go F**k Yourself to People Who Are All Talk and No Action – If anyone knows me, I’m a person who gets s**t done. You give me the goods to be successful on a project and nine times out of 10, I will get results that will blow you away. But on those occasions when I have to work with people who do nothing but bark orders and give me nothing back in return, I find myself counting the days until the project is over.  The problem with people who make ridiculous demands but do nothing to support their team, is that in the end, we all know you are an asshole.

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the College Prep Edition

I’m sure you probably have heard about the college admissions cheating scandal that has singlehandedly destroyed the reputations of actors, CEO’s, coaches, test prep administrators and students whose parents wanted to guarantee that their kids would get into the college of their dreams.  As someone who has watched her own kids get rejected from teams and programs they had their heart set on, I figured it was high time to give us all a reality check on life. So without further ado, I present Go F**k Yourself Friday, the College Prep Edition…

Go F**k Yourself Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman – Seriously, ladies. You always played the nice characters on some of my favorite shows like “Full House” and “Desperate Housewives.” No one would ever suspect that Becky or Lynette would stoop so low as to pay someone off to get their spoiled brat into college, but you two did it. Sure, my friends and I can somewhat relate, having shelled out a boat load of cash for test prep classes for our kids, but I’m not about to back up a Brinks truck full of money and hand over a few hundred thousand to a guy who will get someone to dress up like my kid and take the SAT, or grease the palms of a college coach and pass them off as a member of Crew team when they probably haven’t rowed a boat in their life. Life isn’t about faking it until you make it. It’s about falling flat on your ass and starting all over again.

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Go F**k Yourself to Luxury Community Service Teen Tours  Your kid hasn’t volunteered for anything the entire time they’ve been in high school and those college application deadlines are looming and you need to come up with something fast. After searching online, you find a teen tour offering trips to the South of France where your daughter can help assemble boats for sea captains in need. Once you’ve booked the trip, you decide to rent a yacht where you pick up your kid halfway through their community service adventure so you can spend the rest of the summer shopping and sailing your way through Europe.

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Go F**k Yourself to the SAT, ACT, SAT 1, 2, 49 and Beyond – When are schools going to finally throw out those ridiculous standardized exams that measure whether our kids should be candidates for Mensa just so they can attend a competitive college? Every time a kid gets a decent score, those testing companies move the goal posts. Unless you crack a 1400 on your SAT or score a 34 on your ACT, don’t even bother applying to one of those brand name schools that every parent from Scarsdale to Westport wants their kid to attend. 

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Go F**k Yourself Parents that Don’t Have to Fill Out FAFSA Forms – Kudos to you if you have saved up enough money in your kids’ 529 plan to pay for college or get a million dollar bonus every year because you work at a hedge fund that’s heavily invested in pharma companies, but for the rest of us who needed that quarter of a million dollars to live this past decade, go F**k Yourself! I seriously am envious of anyone who has never had to spend hours completing a FAFSA application. From forgetting my password every single time, to constantly receiving alerts from my daughter’s school that we need to file more IRS forms or check five more boxes or solve the pythagorean theorem while hopping on one leg, I seriously would rather have root canal than fill out that dreaded FAFSA application every year. 

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 Go F**k Yourself to the Marketing Teams at Colleges My Kid Will Never Get Into – I have to admit, I was a bit giddy when my son received letters from Princeton, University of Chicago and even Columbia inviting him to check out their schools, but let’s be real. He’s a smart kid but they know as well as we do that he’s not getting in. They just want to get their application numbers up so they can share that 39,000 people applied to their schools and they only accepted 12. I’m not falling for it Princeton even though I might just frame your letter for kicks.

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Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Jug Handle Edition

After spending a weekend in Florida and then coming back to NYC to frigid temps and faulty GPS, I decided to devote this week’s column to the things that drive me nuts when I’m driving anywhere that’s outside of my neighborhood. For those of you who can feel my pain, this one’s for you.

Go F**k Yourself to the person who designed “roundabouts” – If you’ve never driven around a roundabout, here’s my beef. Your GPS might tell you to make the third right turn after the roundabout but if it’s late at night and someone just rang your phone and your struggling to see where you’re going, you will miss that exit and find yourself being re-routed – over and over again. I have officially decided that if I ever do retire to Florida, I will not live near any roundabout. I guess that means I’m never moving to Florida.

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Go F**k Yourself to the person who designed Jug Handles in New Jersey – if you hate roundabouts, you’ll probably hate jug handles even more and here’s why. You already missed your exit while on a long road that’s filled with strip malls and all you want to do is make a U Turn but you can’t do that for miles. That is, until you hit the jug handle – which always comes up out of nowhere and if you miss it, you’ll be forced to keep driving for another five miles until the next one pops up. Come on New Jersey! Just let me make a U Turn. Why does it have to be so difficult?

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Go F**k Yourself to Whoever Hung the Highway Signs in New Jersey – I know I seem to be taking aim at the Garden State this week but if you have ever tried to drive on the Jersey Turnpike, the signs are some of the most confusing ones I have ever seen in my life. Even my GPS gets confused too. Go right. No I mean, merge left. Take the express route then merge into the local lane. Go towards the Holland Tunnel but then before you actually drive into it, make a sharp left. OMG – just fix the damn signs before I wind up in Staten Island or Downtown Brooklyn!

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Go F**k Yourself GPS that Doesn’t Work in Downtown Manhattan – I know that working downtown is totally the place to be these days, but if you struggle figuring out where to walk after you’ve taken the subway to your destination, then I feel your pain. Just yesterday, I took the subway to Fulton street and then set my GPS so I could walk over to Liberty Street which my map told me was an easy breezy eight minute walk from the train station. The problem is, GPS doesn’t work really well downtown so instead of walking down Broadway, I went the wrong way down a narrow street and wound up by City Hall. I then hopped in a cab which got stuck in traffic and couldn’t go down a bunch of the streets and the next thing I knew, I was 20 minutes late to my appointment. AARGH!!!

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Here’s to a jug handle free weekend for you. Even better, just stay inside and don’t drive. It’ll do wonders for your blood pressure.

Go F**k Yourself Friday…the Real Estate Edition

I would like to preface this week’s column by saying there are a lot of realtors who I adore. In fact, my own mother-in-law is a realtor and while she’s not a top seller, she has made lifelong friends as a result of the incredible connection she makes with buyers. Sure, many of them choose not to move or pick another state entirely, but I love the way my mother-in- law operates. She always puts people first and the deals second. And on that note, for every other realtor who is motivated by dollar signs, this week’s edition of Go F**k Yourself Friday was tailor made for you.

Go F Yourself to the Bait & Switch Realtor – You were supposed to rent my parents’ home in the Hamptons during the US Open and proceeded instead to convince them to sell it. While you couldn’t find a buyer as fast as you thought and my parents went back to Florida for the winter, you kept parading your prospects through the house until you finally made a deal. Now you’re giving my folks the bums rush to close just so you can get your commission check. Sure, my family will never get to spend time in the Hamptons again, but who cares about family traditions anyway? After persuading another pair of snowbirds to sell their gold mine and fly south for good, my parents’ realtor is doing the happy dance. For the record, I have two words to say to you and trust me, it’s not Happy Birthday.

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Go F Yourself to the Pushy Realtor – Several years ago, the #1 realtor in our area almost convinced me to sell my home. She took one look at our house and said we had to sell since there was no way we could send our kids to the school in our neighborhood and she tried to convince us to move to the more expensive part of town. Luckily, we didn’t take her advice because we would have totally been under water – and not due to a broken water heater. Instead, we put an extension on our house and just celebrated our 20th year living there. She’s still in business convincing people to move into homes they can’t afford. Sure, she’s made a bundle off the backs of unsuspecting buyers, but all that gets her is a big stack of money and an even bigger FU from me.

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Go F**k Yourself to the Apathetic Realtor – After I had done a Google search of where my daughter wanted to live off campus, I discovered that the apartment one of her roommates had found was next to a vacant lot, boarded up buildings and a bodega on the corner. When I called the realtor, whose office was right next door to the building and asked her to share a photo of the front of the place, she refused. Recently, when my daughter experienced roommate problems and had to move out and her apartment mates turned her room into a pot smoking den two hours after she vacated the premises, the realtor refused to get involved. To add insult to injury, when we tried to get someone who was in the Air Force to sublet the place, the realtor, who didn’t want to get involved in roommate disputes, refused to approve him because those cannabis loving roommates didn’t want a guy living in their apartment. Maybe they didn’t want someone who would call the cops on them. Either way, apathetic realtor…go F**k yourself!

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Go F**k Yourself to the “Look at Me” Realtor – I get that real estate is all about wanting to work with someone who has a great track record but I really don’t want to see your punim plastered on a massive billboard whenever I’m on my way to my neighborhood Stop & Shop. I’m sure you paid a lot of money so we could see how great you are but honestly, a magnet or a calendar is more subtle and actually comes in handy when I want to hang up a flyer for my son’s play or find out when Passover starts.

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Go F**k Yourself to the “I Win All the Awards Realtor” – The last time I took home a trophy was in 1986 so whenever I see a realtor posting on their social media feed that they’ve won yet another award for selling their one millionth home, it drives me nuts. Seriously, no one likes a showoff. Let your customers sing your praises and stop sharing your glass awards like it’s an Oscar or something.

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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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