My What the F**k Weekend


I spent the weekend in the city…well sorta, which I will elaborate on why I say sorta a little later. I’m calling it the What the Fuck Weekend because that’s exactly what it was. I have never said, thought or mumbled the phrase so many times over the course of two days in my life. And if you follow any of what I’ve posted on here, I use the word fuck a lot.

My first what the fuck moment came as I was taking the train into the city. The train was packed for a Friday at 10am. I assumed I was making a great choice by avoiding the early train that all the commuters take, but I was wrong. What I was greeted with was a large amount of college age students heading into the city for a weekend of drunken debauchery. Now I love drunken debauchery as much as the next person (well, maybe a little more) but not on my quiet, relaxing train ride at ten in the fucking morning! The dude behind me proceeded to have a rather loud and slightly slurred conversation about having drunken butt sex with his girlfriend. I’m certain that not only everyone in my train car, but all the people in the next train car, heard this disturbing account of his Thursday night. Seriously kid, what the fuck? Stop making your mother so proud.

Up next, dog strollers. I swear I saw at least six people pushing their dogs in strollers this weekend. Are dogs really this lazy? I’ll answer that… No. People are really that fucking stupid. What the fuck? Please for the love of everything, allow your dog some fucking dignity and let it walk on a leash. If you feel the need to be all haughty and show the public that your dog is in fact fucking awesome, buy the damn thing a gold leash instead. I’m pretty sure I even heard your dog mumble what the fuck as I watched you force its ass into the stroller.

This next part brings me to the friends post PM1 and I wrote a few days ago. (Here it is, in case you missed it.) I met some “friends” in the city. This is where the sorta comes into play. I sorta spent the weekend in the city, because come Saturday my “friends” decided they wanted to go home. After arriving late on Friday, we all decided to get in around noon; I was the only one who arrived on time, just an FYI. We then spent the entire evening doing fuck all, only to wake up to my “friends” deciding to bail. Using lame excuses as to why they needed to head home. “My hubs is upset I’m gone.” Fuck your hubs. Tell him this isn’t the 1950’s. I paid for a goddamn hotel room for the weekend. Thanks “friends” I appreciate you making me have a what-the-fuck face all weekend.

So that was my What the Fuck Weekend. Something I would rather not relive anytime soon. My last WTF is… Seriously people, enough with the making me say, “What the fuck.” I’m done.