We’re back from the holidays with the first edition of FML Friday for 2010. And let’s make one thing perfectly clear here: it’s pronounced twenty-ten. Say it any other way, and not only are you wasting people’s time reading needless syllables, but you sound like a robot. And not the awesome “butler” kind of robot either. Hell, not even a killer robot. Just some sad, shitty robot who doesn’t know how to properly pronounce the current year.
For those who aren’t in the know, FML Friday is a day where I take about three FMLs from the last little while and essentially respond to them, in the time-honoured style of Dear Abby… If Abby was a raging alcoholic.
The sexless life of the sexless
Today, I planted a bit of a condom wrapper in my bed so my housekeeper would think I have a love life. FML
Why you fear the judgment of your housekeeper is beyond me. Presumably, you pay this person to clean your home. Any thoughts around the kind of sex you’re having (or if you’re having any at all) likely don’t concern your housekeeper. He or she probably just wants to clean up your shit and get the hell out of there. Now you have him/her thinking about whether or not his or her hands have touched upon some vile bodily fluid of yours in the process of cleaning.
Thankfully, your housekeeper has nothing to worry about.
Hey, instead of buying condoms and surreptitiously hiding opened wrappers everywhere (thereby wasting the condoms, I can only assume), why don’t you try hooking up with someone. Even the internet can help you with that nowadays.
Lies, and the college students who tell them
Today, my friend whacked me on the family jewels while I was washing my hands in the college bathroom. While I lay writhing in pain on the floor, a guy at the urinal turned around towards me to see what was wrong. He was still peeing. FML
I’m going to straight up declare you a liar here. Sure, it was a college bathroom and there’s a good chance a lot of drunk people pee in there, but I don’t know of a single human being who forgets what he’s doing as he’s whizzing and turns around mid-whizz to start whizzing on someone else. Bullshit.
You’re the kind of sad douchebag who requires validation from social sites like fmylife.com in order to feel accepted. I have no doubt that your dumbass pal sacked you. I further concede that you probably did collapse to the floor, your jewels tainted, as it were. But the story ends there. And it’s a boring story. But you wanted your 15 minutes. So you embellished — lied — on FML.
So yes, I hope FML is indeed the case for you this week.
Today, my best friend was texting me about her sick dog. She wrote “Do you think she will get better?”, so I wrote “I hope she does”. It wasn’t until later that I realized I accidentally wrote “I hope she dies” instead. FML
OK, sometimes FMLs aren’t the egregious indictment of the morons who write them. Sometimes they are absolutely deserving of empathy — even sympathy. I think this is one of those times, because I’m certainly guilty of sending out the most inappropriate of SMS typos at the worst possible times.
So I’ll only say this: that sucks, dude. I hope you got it sorted out with your friend. And I hope her dog’s OK. Eff your lÿf indeed.