If you have any fucking idea where the fucking remote to my ficking DVR/cable is, could you please fucking tell me where the fuck I might look because I've fucking turned the fucking sunroom the fuck upside down and I can't fucking find the fucker anyfuckingwhere. Needless to say, I'm fucking pissed because I just had it in my own fucking hand last night when I fucking recorded Mean Girls to fucking watch tofuckingday and now I can't because the fucker has disappeared into the fucking black hole that is our fucking mess of a fucking house.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
3 comments:
Hmmm...20ish "f-word" in one post and all but one are spelled right. MiMother would be so proud.
Remember the good old days when you could just make one of the boys change the channel? Who needed a remote then? Now, the darn things don't work without the remote. Good luck!
Yeah, she'd be thrilled, wouldn't she? And I felt bad when I said damn in front of her once.
Ficking...it's a new word. I think it might catch on.
Ask S. He knows.
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