FOADT #5: Victims, aren’t we all

May 25, 2006 at 9:28 am (Fuck off and Die Thursday)

I knew this woman wouldn't stay silent for long. It was just too good to be true, the peace that flowed thru the soapmaking community. But then she fucked up again. Yeah, the Demented Prevaricatrix was dumbass enough to come after me again. See the category "The Initials Are" in the sidebar for the backstory. (Note that all posts have the legal name of the Annoying One removed). For some strange reason, this person attempted to comment spam this blog at about 6 pm Eastern time Sunday night, making herself this week's hands-down winner of FOADT.

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May 18, 2006 at 9:55 am (Fuck off and Die Thursday)

This week's Fuck off and Die Thursday is dedicated to my favorite kind of dumbass–the one who, despite huge piles of warnings and police activity aimed at catching him, still thinks he won't be the one popped by the po-po. Arrogance, stupidity and a distorted sense of anonymity combine to convince online sexual predators that "they" won't be the ones who wind up on "Dateline NBC," only to find themselves trying to talk their way out of why they're in the home where someone (who's told them they're severely underage ) told them to come if they want what they typed in that chat room to be real-life.

So–to the 24 men caught in April during yet another sting run by Dateline NBC, Florida police and the watchdog group Perverted Justice, FUCK OFF AND DIE! You're the reason I watch my kid's MySpace profile and blog, you twisted fuck! Everyone needs to be able to function in cyberspace these days, and shit-for-brained sorry excuses for humans like yourselves make for a dangerous environment.

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May 11, 2006 at 12:25 pm (Fuck off and Die Thursday)

This week's Fuck Off And Die post isn't dedicated where you think it might be. Tempting tho it is to nominate the man I've spent the last eight years with, I'm doing my best not to turn this into Emo on Parade Blog. So, this week's FOADT is dedicated to the people who MUST be skewing the results of American Idol.

Yeah, yeah, sure, they say it's all based on the voting exactly as America calls it in. I'm not buying it. Nope. The last two seasons have definitively proven that someone's rigging this bullshit, and this week I cordially invite them to FUCK OFF AND DIE.

I don't know specifically who is doing the rigging, mind you. The producers are a very likely suspect, naturally, because they benefit the most from being able to keep people watching. I can just hear the production meeting now:

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May 4, 2006 at 9:18 am (Fuck off and Die Thursday)

Once again it's Fuck off and Die Thursday, and yesterday's run around Southeastern Michigan highlighted why I've picked this week's winner as I have. Nowhere else that I have ever driven (and that's a lot of places considering my stint as a courier) is so full of drivers with such an attitude of entitlement, self-importance and utter disregard for the fact that indeed they do NOT own the Dog-damned road.

So, to the drivers in SE MI–FUCK OFF AND DIE!

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YOU–Yes, YOU there–the lady in the RAV 4 with the cellphone glued to your ear! Where in Hell did you get the idea that the correct way through the intersection is turning left from the FAR right lane? Where's a fucking cop when you need one?

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April 27, 2006 at 1:18 pm (Fuck off and Die Thursday, The Enlightening Ones)

I know the saying goes, "Don't hate the player–hate the game" but sometimes the players need slapping. This first "Fuck off and Die Thursday" post is for a player I've ranted about plenty, H'sMa. This past week has been annoying and smelly and haven't had a decent shower in a month, topped off with no shower at all since Sunday. Ew, ew and ew.

The last few showers I've had have been all too brief–within a minute of starting the hot water, it began to run cooler, until within 5 minutes my shivering fat ass was cussing the cold water required to rinse my long-assed hair. "You don't need to be in there forever," was her first judgement on the matter. Forever? Who the fuck said anything about forever–there isn't even time to wash and condition my HAIR, let alone tend to items on the bonus plan, like snootch-washing and pit-shaving…rolling eyes. This oh-so-productive horseshit went on for a month, lasting until the old bat finally took a shower herself.

Yep, a full month later. I don't want to think about it.

She emerged from her shower late last week musing, "Hm, I guess there might be something wrong–I didn't get a full shower either." Riiiiiiight. I had nothing better to bitch about than a hot water source because why? Are we forgetting the fact that I desperately need to get a car back on the road, but you won't let me work my only source of fucking income? Well, one of us hasn't forgotten and will be paying your sorry ass back very soon.

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