But never TOO late for an FFOT.
Today I would like to give a hearty fuck off to issues that come up on the day I'm trying desperately to clean things up and leave a little early so's I can head up country to do some buck hunting.
And another hearty fuck off with cheese to those who refuse to make a decision, which delays some deadlines, especially when they are the ones pushing to hit this deadline. The only upside on this is that they have been given a list of the things that must be done, and when, to hit said deadline (among those things being said decision), and told in no uncertain terms that every delay in these minor items results sets the deadline back by the same amount of time. They have been warned.
Take it away, folks. And have fun on next week's FFOT, I'll still be upcountry then.
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14 comments:
Students who think it's fun and clever to carry on little side conversations in a class can FTFO.
Look, I don't care that you're pulling an A. I don't care that you think you know this already. It's feckin' RUDE...rude to me, rude to the folks behind you who had to ask me to repeat what I just said. Rude rude rude.
I don't care that it's feckin' FRIDAY. I don't care that there's a big game tomorrow, and lots of parties, and all kinds of fun stuff. Can you check your need to converse at the door for 50 feckin' minutes?
Seriously, my head's going to explode one of these days.
(verification word: visemetr. I don't normally comment on these things but that ones' just too good.)
Mindless bureaucrats can fuck off with a large helping of flaming cheese stuffed into their ears.
Mindless bureaucrats who ask a customer for their input, and then completely ignore it, can fuck off sideways through a tornado in the middle of a nail factory.
The Democratic National Committee and Republic National Committee can fuck off and die while glued together on the buttocks, dipped in rotten, slimy cheese, and launched from a trebuchet into a pond of hungry alligators.
Have a nice weekend, everyone!
My word verfication is voctok. Sounds like my Klingon name.
I always think that mom-and-pops are the worst kind of company you can work for, because they get rich off you and you are the dirt under their feet, but then I am reminded of large corporations' strategery that makes no sense to anyone, and that's because it was stupid in the first place. So I don't know.
My go-away is to Drew Griffith, who deliberately IMO mis-characterized a quote in National Review to try to throw Sarah Palin off-stride, and then pretended that it was her fault. Jackass.
I have multiple fuck offs today, some personal, some political.
FUCKING "routine" FUCKING illnesses that preemies suffer can FUCK THE FUCK OFF. My little guy scared me half to death last night when he quit breathing. They told me that preemies tend to do that, especially when worn out by trying to learn how to bottle feed, and getting choked.
My husband's job can fuck the fuck off for not letting him sit in the hospital with our little guy today. The baby is doing better, but my DH worries as long as he can't see something for himself.
Alan Greenspan can fuck off as well, for acknowledging that he was partially responsible for the mess-but because of a lack of bank regulation rather than because of his stupid policies keeping interest rates too low for too long, aiding in creating the housing bubble.
This endless, vitriolic, not much real difference between the candidates presidential race can really fuck off. I'm so tired of listening to ads that I don't turn on either the radio or the TV anymore.
My word verification was perfect for the FFOT: crant. That sounds like profanity to me.
I almost forgot this one:
This execessively long, over-reported, over-hyped, underwhelming celebrity based presidential election campaign can fuck off with rotten apricots dipped in jalepano cheese and dusted with rat poison.
I am to the point that, even though I want to exercise my right to vote, I have this nearly irresistable urge to collectively rope the DNC, RNC, Congress, the MSM, and all candidates into one big pit so I can fling raw shit at them with a high pressure hose before putting my ballot in the box....just so they get the message of what this fucking freak show of a fiasco has done to me. And probably many other people as well.
I can't wait for 5 November; regardless who wins, I can stop trying to avoid all those fucking meaningless polls being flung at us, and deal with a new set of problems. Opinion polls are WORTHLESS, you idiots. Only the ballot box counts.
I knew this was going to be a looonnnggg election, but I'm dragging my tail here. I often wonder if the socialists are trying to wear us out with these stupendously stupid election campaigns.
HH, any illness striking preemies can fuck off, routine or not. Best wishes to all of you.
Ricki--my afternoon students were wound up, too. But they're in NINTH GRADE.
The Bursar's office at my university can FTFO. Last month, I got hit with a late fee for no reason. It took a ridiculously long phone call where I was put on hold at least three times to get it taken off. I sent in the payment on time, but because they took a long weekend and processed it late, they hit me with another late fee. Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of racket? Then, after having to submit message after message through some dumb automated website that insults the user by thinking it can solve problems by suggesting FAQ's, filling out a waiver form that amounts to an appeal, I get denied. Flat out, no reason. So that requires another phone call, suffering through the interruptions of having to be put on hold several times, and they agreed to take off this month's.
Unless there's some other stupid bloodsucking fee I don't know about (and there probably is), that is my last lousy payment and I am done with these fartknockers. At long fucking last.
Oh, and I probably should tell myself to fuck off for not realizing that my former work would terminate my log-in with the e-payroll site, so I don't have my last pay stub to use to calculate my quarterly local income taxes. Local income taxes can fuck off, or at least figure out a way to be deducted so I don't have the pain of seeing my money and then handing it back out again. And then fuck off and die. Evil taxes.
Salespeople who wait until the day before a project is due to drop the entire fucking publication on me to write, typeset and find art for can fuck off with extreme fucking prejudice. You've had a fucking week and a half, and only one of you ass ferrets so much as grazed my desk with a hint of what was to come. And on Monday you'll all come whining to me like a Democrat caught faking ballots because you don't have enough time to go kiss up to the clients that you probably didn't find out until today that the fucking thing was even happening. And as a result, production people are at risk of being laid off because you couldn't pry your fucking ass cheeks off your swivel chairs a day earlier. You've put the necks of people who actually work for a living on the block, you useless goddamn smile-and-nod-and-try-to-hide-the-drool, latte-sipping, cell-phone-fellating puddles of dog pus!
My verification word: obbedus. Or, O bbed us. (I need a life...)
People who drive slow in the fast lane can FTFO. I know I've said this before, but jeez, people! Yes, I can pass you on the right, but if I have room to pass you on the right, that means YOU have room to move the fuck over!
The irritating Jack-in-the-Box adults-in-strollers ad can fuck off. I'm purposely NOT buying those sandwiches because of that ad. And while I'm at it, the incredibly insulting Brooke Shields car ads can fuck off, too. Brooke, you can't possibly be that hard up for cash that you would agree to an ad campaign that sets womens rights back 20 years. Whatever you're selling, I don't want it either.
And my party can fuck the fuck off for finding the most idiotic candidate in the world. I have no clue who to vote for, but I know who I'm NOT voting for, so that narrows it down, I guess.
That's all I got. Have a good weekend, y'all.
Fuck off to getting out of work several hours later than I wanted to, which means I will just stay home and sleep here tonight and leave early in the morning.
But at least I'm not at work now and I'm off in the morning, so FUCK YEAH! to that.
Oh, and my verification word is "aries". That's not too weird.
FTFO to ME for forgetting to come here on Fridays since you moved!
BTW mine was "reptie" and now "stant". It's as if blogger can ALMOST speak English.
One of these days we'll realize it's trying to make contact with us.
billysh.
Julie! Sister! I am SO WITH YOU on that Jack-in-the-Box ad. I am also doing a one-woman boycott of the place (well, their food is crap as well, so that makes it easier) because of that lousy ad.
I have another one: newspapers that are so feckless that they don't manage to get a classified ad in that was bought and paid for over a week ago, can FO. One of the volunteer groups to which I belong had to cancel a garage sale planned for today because we got 0 publicity. And I was down there at 7:15 am to help set it up, and worked for a couple hours before we realized that we weren't gonna get any customers, thanks to the stupid local rag.
This is NOT the first time this has happened; another group to which I belong NEVER gets the announcements of their meetings in BEFORE the meeting even though the group "publicist" takes the notice down to the newspaper well in advance. I've seen the notices show up 2 weeks after we had our meeting. Argh.
I have another one, too. My fucking brainless fucking bitch of a fucking aunt can fuck the fuck off for telling my fucking abusive father's--if you can call him that: sperm donor's a better term--fucking family that I had my son.
I did not want my father to know. I told my aunts--all three of my mother's sisters--that I did not want him to know. I told them why I did not want him to know. The second to youngest told his sister anyway, because she does not believe that he beat, molested, raped, and emotionally abused all of his children. My mother's sister does not believe her own family.
I am so far past anger that I have gone into cold, planning, rage.
I will do my best to make sure that woman does not see my child for a very long time.
And if my father does show up, I am calling hospital security or the police to have him escorted away.
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