Ah, the best word around. The one word that you can use in almost any fashion to convey almost any emotion. And since today is Friday, I am going to steal Nat's Naturally Inappropriate and Paula’s “Fuck you Friday” theme.
This is special day where we all get to rant about the lovely fuckers that have made our week so fucking fantastic. And since Fuck you Friday is essentially dedicated to those who comment; let’s hear who has made your week screw the Fuckerpooch.
To help you out a little, I will start you off with some of the best ways Fuck has been used:
"What the "FUCK" was that?" -Mayor Of Hiroshima, 1945
"Where did all those "FUCKING" Indians come from?" -Custer, 1877
"Any "FUCKING" idiot could understand that." -Einstein, 1938
"It does so "FUCKING" look like her!" -Picasso, 1926
"How the FUCK did you work that out?" -Pythagoras, 126 BC
"You want what on the "FUCKING" ceiling?" -Michelangelo, 1566
"Where the "FUCK" are we?" -Amelia Earhart, 1937
"Scattered "FUCKING" showers, my ass!" -Noah, 4314 BC
"Aw c'mon. Who the "FUCK" is going to find out?" -Bill Clinton, 1998
"FUCK, I didn't think they'd get this "FUCKING" mad." -Saddam Hussein, 2003
“FUCK", I’m dead.” – Osama Bin Laden, 2011
That being said, I will start us off…..
Fuck you to this driver. You fucking fuckity fuck, when I am driving behind you on a dark back road don’t fucking slam on your brakes and almost overturn to maneuver around a gaggle of wild turkeys. Fucking hit those bitches and save a Pilgrim. God DAMN.
Fuck you bitches in BIC CHAT, I could have gone the rest of my life without learning about Space Docking. Once learned, it cannot be un done. And fuck you to my co-workers that made me explain what I was laughing so hard about, my face is still red.
Fuck you to these tunnel drivers…IT’S A FUCKING TUNNEL….you don’t need to get all wiggity just because you are going through a tunnel.
Fuck you and suck it to those parents that have not responded to my daughter’s birthday party. I invite her entire class (ALL FUCKING 36 OF YOUR WHINEY BITCHY ASS KIDS) and you can’t afford me the common courtesy to RSVP back so that I know whether or not I have to buy pizza for 36 kids and their parents or 12. I hate all of you fuckerschmidts, I want to fuckerstomp you all the way to Fuckertown, but then you wouldn’t come to the party with your little fuckertwats and I would have fucker’s remorse that my kid would be sad.