"FfYL" Quickies: Part I, Chapter 3 (f.u.c.k.- The People You Work With)

What's good, umf'ers? It's Wednesday again, and that means you get another free look at my first book, "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life". I let you peep all three sections in the past few weeks, and now we come back around to Part I, "For Your Job"...more specifically, a chapter on common types of coworker and ways to effectively deal with them (besides killing them). Here it goes...
Chapter 3: (f.u.c.k.)- The People You Work With

Because you have a job, you have agreed to spend around 40 hours of your time per week at your workplace and all that it entails. However, what many people fail to realize is that there's an element of employment that can be every bit as important as compensation, scheduling, and actual job duties...your co-workers.

That's right, the people you work with can have a huge impact on your experience on the job. You know how in the company of certain people, time seems to just fly by? Well, unfortunately, you rarely get to work around that type of person. More likely, you'll get to spend most of your waking hours in the company of people you would never even speak to for over 3 sentences voluntarily.

Coping with these people is not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination...in fact, it's part of what you get paid for. (You probably won't find "refrain from brutally murdering someone you work with" in any official description of your job duties, but trust me, they frown upon it. Won’t look good on your resume and leaves the place short-staffed.)

If you find yourself somewhat challenged by the people you work with, you're not alone. It's actually quite common...much like the cold, including that there's not much you can do about it but deal until it's over. However, you can increase your ability to cope with it with the appropriate information about the people you'll soon be functionally married to.

To that end, what follows is a description of common office personality types and the best method for dealing with them (without violence). Since you can't arm yourself with a handgun to make your problems at work easier, arm yourself with knowledge and achieve close to the same effect. First up, your superiors…at least in their minds:


The Iron Fist- As the name implies, this person's domineering management style is his calling card. When dealing with this person, expect an overly authoritative demeanor, unnecessary displays of workplace influence, and a general feeling of being talked down to whenever he addresses you. You may think that you graduated middle school and left the principal behind years ago, but if you have the Iron Fist as your boss, think again.

An interesting note about this type of boss is that he often wields his office power with such vigor to compensate for control that he lacks elsewhere in life. Whether it’s family problems, financial worries beyond his control, or the possibility that his wife wonders why he can't display the same hardness in bed that he does at work, he likely has issues that he can only wish ended when the work day did.

Your job is to... let him have his false sense of power and control...it's all he really wants. Anything else, such as being punctual, respectful to your peers, or useful in any way during your time at work is secondary to the feeding of his ego. You don't have to actively contribute to his illusion, just don't be the one to burst his bubble and you should be fine.

The Invertibrate- This boss is pretty much the polar opposite of the Iron Fist we discussed earlier. He isn't actually interested in bossing people around, he just wants things to be peaceful at any expense. He is easily swayed, especially by an Iron Fist, but even by his subordinates in extreme cases. This can cause a somewhat confusing work environment where every decision made is just a well-timed shouting match from being changed. The Invertibrate isn't a bad person, just a bad boss. In fact, it's his desire to be a good person that makes him so unsuitable for the job.

Your job is to... assert yourself, but only where necessary. You see, this boss likely won't ask too much of you...he's too afraid of any possible reaction. Accordingly, follow his few instructions...odds are they're the essential ones, ones that he will likely be fired by someone above him for not having you follow. You don't want that. You might get a less malleable kind of boss as a replacement...if you couldn't even deal with the Invertibrate, who knows how you'll do with that.

The Idiot- Whether it's inexplicable tactical decisions that draw the suspicion of even the dimmest grunt, an unbearably inappropriate or underdeveloped sense of humor, a complete unwillingness to even entertain ideas that are not his own (or that he can't take credit for), a palpable feeling that the person believes he's the smartest person in any given room despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, or any other flavor of management-sanctioned stupidity, there is one thing about this person that just about everyone in the office can agree on from one angle or another...this dude is a fucking idiot.

Your job is to... ignore him as much as possible. If you must acknowledge his existence, be sure that it is only about work-related matters. Any other topic should immediately terminate the conversation. Oh, and whatever you do, DO NOT get into an argument with him. He's an idiot. He'll drag you down to an idiotic level, and beat you on his home turf.

The Harem Head- This boss is less concerned with interoffice relations and more with sexual ones. With promises of promotions, prestige, and other perks, he lures attractive young professionals under his command like a snake charmer. He likely has a stable of willing corporate concubines at his disposal, who can be identified by looking at whose arrival/departure times, lunch breaks, and even vacation days conveniently sync up with his or are untracked altogether.
People have been giving up ass for financial considerations on the job since...well, jobs. (They call it "the world's oldest profession" for good reason. Some early people weren't particularly good at hunting or nesting, but they could lay on their backs or lick stuff just fine.) The Harem Head is well aware of this, and plays it to his maximum advantage.
Your job is to... not be physically attractive in any way...if you aren't, you will rarely if ever interact with him. If you have the awesome problem of looking good, your job becomes to make a decision about which way you're going to go regarding him early and stick with it. If you're going to get with his program, fine. If not, it’s also fine (and will involve much less lapping of pale leathery skin). Just be clear about the possibilities. It's respectful of the time and efforts of everyone involved.

The Cool Supe- She could be one of your most powerful allies in the war against losing your fucking mind in your workplace. The rare management type without the management attitude, her loose style of supervising is popular among the workers and often quite effective, as adult human beings can actually function quite well in menial tasks without constant intervention by higher-ups. This is the person to talk to if you want to ask to leave early, if you want to be 5 or 10 minutes late without an international incident, or if you want an extra lunch hour per day in which to work on your ebook.
Your job is to... keep this person on your side at all costs. Be friendly, buy them lunch occasionally, and generally go out of your way to make sure she knows how much you appreciate her not being a total dick.
The Big Boss- The undisputed top dog of the workplace, he's the one that even the other bosses kowtow to. Holding near-unlimited power and influence over the entire staff, everything that goes on in the building is under his jurisdiction. He prefers the big picture stuff like meeting new hires, approving employee holiday parties and golf to the menial day-to-day tasks of his caporegimes.

The buck stops with him, so even if you draw the ire of one of your other bosses over some petty issue, you'll still be in the picture if you're on his good side. However, if you find yourself out of favor with both him and the other bosses, then get called into his office, you may as well enter the room diagonally…your job is now most likely out the window.

Your job is to... see him as little as possible. Usually, a visit to his office means trouble. If you happen to see him around the office, do your best impression of a great employee and he'll probably leave you alone. As he is far too busy doing whatever it is high-level execs do to micromanage everyday office bullshit, he just wants to see that the person that belongs at the desk you're sitting at isn't severely fucking things up.

Think of an offensive lineman in football. you don't know many--if any--of their names, do you? That's how you know they're doing their jobs right...they only get brought up when they somehow fail. The Big Boss is much the same...if he doesn't know your name, you're probably doing something right.


The Talker- This person doesn't actually try to be annoying, but some people are just naturals. She feels the need to share each and every portion of a thought that crosses her mind, usually about things one has no expertise or interest in.

Her private affairs, current events, obscure television programs, random shallow musings, all are fair and fertile topics of one-sided conversation. It's like being forced to follow someone on Twitter in the matrix. She goes beyond dominating conversation to embodying it. If you're a great listener, a kindred spirit, a masochist or a mute, you'll find this person's company a treat. Everyone else might not like it so much.

Your job is to... tune them out as much as possible. Be cautious before completely telling them to shut the fuck up. True, they talk a lot, but every so often they say something of actual use or note. Like lottery tickets, the sheer amount of them that were worthless does not detract one cent from the value of the one winner. However, it is understood that selective listening can be difficult if not impossible to pull off, so just do the best you can. Earphones can help with raw volume of speech overload...so make use of them in an emergency (like, say, a hangover).

The Informant- As his name implies, he is the eyes and ears of management disguised as a normal, everyday salaryman. Expect him to nose up in every conversation that sounds reasonably interesting, especially any involving your superiors. This person takes office communication to a new level...and it's quite low.

Among the things Informants enjoy doing are reporting undetected latenesses, timing bathroom breaks, and even adding his co-workers on social networks in case they say anything about the bosses, in which case he will report it directly to them. Of course, these actions earn him the contempt of his peers...at least, those who have figured out who the Informant is, as they are known to be masters of camouflage.

Your job is to... figure out who this person is and avoid them at all costs.

The Slacker- Wherever you find work, you will not find the Slacker. He does almost nothing productive during his workday, even going entire weeks without doing any real work. The strange power of the Slacker lies in his ability to appear as if he were doing his job to any relevant observers, such as supervisors, managers, and the like. This feat is amazing to pretty much everyone except the person that actually ends up doing their work.

Your job is to... study this man and learn all you can from his zenlike approach to modern indentured servitude. If he can do what he does--or not do what he doesn't do--and still be employed, obviously he's doing something right.

Man-at-Arms (length)- This coworker, during the hours that you have no choice but to be around him, is actually a fairly decent guy around the workplace. In fact, you may find yourself wondering why it is that you don’t hang out in leisure time…until one day you decide to hang out after work and he finds a way to answer the question emphatically. Some people’s personalities just have short shelf lives…so to prevent spoilage, keep them in a cool, dry place, like at work.

Your job is to… keep it friendly at work, as long as you remember why it doesn’t go beyond that. After all, they can be legitimately okay people for hours at a time…that’s more than can be typed for most of the other folks on this list. It’s kind of like being in a zombie movie…you might not know most of the only survivors when you meet up, but you can all help each other and all of you are going to work together as long as necessary to keep any more humans from becoming flesh-eaters until you can get to a safe place…and yes, some of the survivors will turn.

Aight, there's a lot more to that chapter, but this ain't a charity function...well, kinda, a $15 donation will get you the free gift of the whole book. (It's just like a tote bag from a public access telethon.) Hopefully you enjoyed this selection from my first thesis on asshollectialism, "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life"...if not, fuck yourself (no acronym). Later, umf'ers!


Postpartum Deposition ("What to Expect" postview)

No, of course that's not actually me and that one chick I got pregnant, don't be ridiculous.
*fittedwearer's note: Happy Memorial Day to all our country's bravest...they walk around in the desert halfway across the world wearing 50lb of armor which is essential to stopping all the bullets that fly at them daily so I don't have to. Thanks, for real.

As you may know, I've been working on this book called "What to Expect When You're Expecting (the Worst)" for the last couple of months...and now I'm done...well, as done as any writer, I'll probably be editing it when you buy it. It's about unplanned pregnancies and what happens when people stop being polite and realze that shit just got real.

The intro has been up for your review for a while now, but I figured since umf'ers are special to me, I might as well let y'all see how it turned out...so I'm gonna leak the very last chapter too. Of course, like in movies, snack cakes, and what causes pregnancy in the first place, the middle is where all the best stuff is...but none of that is free either, so there you go. Aight, without any further introbation here it is: the finale of "What to Expect", "Postpartum Deposition".

*note: No babies were harmed in the making of this book.

Hey reader…thought it was important here at the end for me to take off the Dr. Philthy hat I’ve been writing this book with and speak to you as AJ, regularish guy.

I said a lot of uncomfortable things in these pages, and I meant every last one of them at one time or another. If I’m a horrible person for admitting it, then so be it. However, this book was not just a recollection of personal experience. (Why would I write a memoir of a time I’d like to forget?)

The truth is, many people can relate…maybe even someone you (apparently don’t) know (so well). For proof that having a hard time adjusting to a new job one did not intentionally apply for is pretty common, Google either “I don’t want to be a…”, “I don’t like being a…”, or “I hate being a…” and see what they suggest as the most popularly searched endings of those sentences. Whether this surprises you or not, they’re things like “dad”, “mom” and “parent”. As a career asshollectual, I’m just the guy tactless enough to say it out loud.

See, I’ve always believed the truth trumps the convenience of self-deception. It’s like tattoos, once you realize it doesn’t hurt that bad, you can become addicted to it. The worst part is, whenever people even anonymously make candid statements anywhere close to those put forth in this book on some message board/forum/answers site/real life (bless you), they’re told what horrible, undeserving people they are to have such a blessing bestowed upon them and not appreciate it, etc.

It all sounds nice, but it’s not so easy to just “get over” it. People who were in my position never get to see that what they’re feeling is a natural response to unwanted change and confront these feelings so they can possibly work through them and maybe, just maybe, make their peace with the new piece to the puzzle.

Instead, they’re bashed all to shit and told they’re worthless when they cared enough to at least try. It’s like going up to a kid who just fell learning to ride a bike, performing an elbow drop on him, and trying to steal the bike. It’s just not helpful in any way. Shit, it might cause a child to never learn to ride one and hate all dual-wheeled conveyances for the rest of their life. That does not make the world a better place, no matter the “noble intent” behind it.

I figured if I put the experience out there the way it was where people can see it, they won’t feel so bad about feeling some if not all of the same way. Esteemed philosopher Tony Montana once said that people like me were needed so others can point their fucking fingers and go “that’s the bad guy”. I dig that. I’m more chaotic neutral than full-on bad, but if laughing at my pain can help ease somebody else’s (and make me a couple dollars along the way), it’s worth it to me. If I can talk one family together by talking somebody down off an emotional ledge, then I’ll talk all the shit required.

All that said, as of a few months after my son (still sounds weird) was born, I find parenting bearable. Of course, the diaper changes, holding a bottle not containing liquor for hours on end, and the ungodly random screaming honestly suck. Anybody who tells you different is delusional or trolling.

He’s very cute when he’s happy though…it balances out how much he can get on my nerves (takes after his mommy on both counts). He has good coordination, a silly disposition, and he generally seems like he’s going to be a lot of fun in a month or two when he does something besides need to be cleaned. He grew on me a lot…I might even love him (haven’t decided for sure yet). I know I like him a lot most of the time. Either way, it could be worse…I could have gotten a girl.

To wrap things up—or not do so, I suppose--an unplanned pregnancy is a stressful event from both sides of the equation. I can honestly say I appreciate the woman I went through it with more than my vocabulary can convey for being likable enough not to chuck a grenade at throughout the process. Nevertheless, I can’t say it’s ever going to happen again. I’m not gonna be that guy who gets a kid for every birthday…and really, that’s what this book is all about, learning from your mistakes. (People say they learn a lot from their children, right?)

In all seriousness, it’s not as bad as you might think. Being a parent is even enjoyable in spurts. It’s just something you want to ideally avoid if you know you’re not ready. Unfortunately, back in real life, almost half of women will have an unintended pregnancy in their lifetime. That means someone’s knocking them up, and lot of guys will also ride this emotional rollercoaster.

Fittingly though, like any ride it’s a little less scary when you know what to expect…especially if you’re expecting the worst. Thanks for reading (and at least not putting anything dangerous in the hate mail…I have a child!) and good luck...you’ll damn sure need it.

Thanks for checking out a little of my latest abrasive but apt anthology of asshollectualism...by doing so, you've done your part to raise awareness for a very good cause: my career. "What to Expect When You're Expecting (the Worst)" due soon...but until then, you could always read my other book, right? Later umf'ers!

For more "Expecting (the Worst)", including a table of contents, 4 more free chapters, and more--hell, I think this chapter is even a little different--check out the "Expecting (the Worst)" page here on umf! 


"FfYL" Quickies: Part III, Chapter 1 (f.u.c.k.- Getting Started)

Happy hump day, f.u.c.k.ers! In case you're not familiar with the current program, it's now time for another exclusive preview of my glassy-eyed examination of everyday life, "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life". Today's selection is the leadoff hitter for part III, "for Your Social Networking" and goes by the title "(f.u.c.k.)- Getting Started". It's all about how to set up a social networking page and get your start (or much needed restart) in the world of two-dimensional friends and one-dimensional people. Aight, let's get to it.

Chapter 1: (f.u.c.k.)- Getting Started

Ah, yes...social networking. The best and worst of the human experience, all conveniently packaged 140-500 characters at a time, depending on the service you use. If you live here in the future with the rest of us, you know that pretty much everyone has a social networking presence...whether it be Facebook, Twitter, the other ones that aren't as popular, or whatever friendsites pop up in the future, almost everyone has a page telling the rest of the world just who they are (or who they want others to think they are). Well...except for you.

Against all odds, you have somehow managed to avoid taking this next leap of civilization with the rest of us...until now. If you're reading this first part of the social networking section, you're probably someone new to the scene, a freshman socialite looking for a little direction in navigating this relatively new off ramp of the internet superhighway.

Well, that's exactly what I'm here to help with. It's easier than you think to transition into this most recent forum of human interaction...and it all starts with getting things set up.

Getting Started

First, you'll want to figure out which of the popular social networks serve your needs. If you want to reconnect with old friends/classmates or would like to learn more than you could ever ask for (and in many cases, wanted to know) about the people you already know, you'll probably like Facebook...until it once again changes its interface, rendering it inoperable to the people who actually use it.

If 140 character snippets of someone's stream of consciousness or a much more intense and constant exposure to the personalities of people you were barely sure you liked in the first place are more your speed, try Twitter. If you're a music act who wants to increase their invisibility or a person trapped in the early 2000s time warp, MySpace is your likely destination. Like a challenge? Try Google+...the next of your friends to figure that out will likely be the first.

Point is, the different social sites all offer different utility (even if that's "none", which is different from "some"). Figuring out which one is for you will go a long way into enhancing your social networking experience. Many people elect to try them all...why not, they're free (AS LONG AS YOU COPY AND PASTE THIS TO YOUR STATUS< OTHERWISE YOU'LL HAVE TO PAY A MONTHLY FEE AND SACRIFICE YOUR FIRSTBORN...or...whatever...).

Who knows, you may decide you're the kind of person who enjoys broadcasting their unabridged life story one update at a time and join them all. One step at a time though...you haven't even set up your page yet.

Setting Up your Page

Most of the big ones are pretty user friendly, only requiring a series of clearly labeled clicks to get started with. (The hard part is getting off the damn thing...both in the "wow, this is kind of addictive" and "how the fuck do I delete this when and if I'm done" senses.) It's your standard email/password/confirm password/enter captcha "OLRICK SOMA" deal, nothing to be concerned about.

The next parts are a bit more involved. What's Your Name? All right, you've gotten this far...next step is to pick a handle, or e-name. Some people use their actual government names, others clever little nods to things and concepts they like, still others find some kind of satisfaction in pretending to be a celebrity. (Not in the “I think I matter” way, in the “I’m actually Charlie Sheen” way…wait, they’re kind of the same…ah, screw it, you know what I meant.)

On a more personal site such as Facebook, using one's own name is preferable...more on that in a chapter or 2. However, in most places where one does not personally know many of the people they will be interacting with, a pseudonym is preferable.

Of course, this name you choose says a lot about you...but that's okay, because you get to control what's said. GoYanks2 will label you as a fan of the Bronx Bombers. Red_Stater probably makes you a Republican. ThikNWet69 probably means you are either a whore (attention or garden variety whorewhore) or an overweight 35 year old trying to earn some airtime on Dateline NBC. Choose your name carefully..." What's in a name?" has less cachet when the answer is " your personality".

A Picture's Worth

Your profile picture. It's the first thing most people look at and an online representation of you. We'll go over this in much greater detail in a later chapter, but in short, the standard answer is 1,000 words. If it will take more than that to explain why the picture does not accurately portray you or your interests, I’d advise against using it.

You already know there's more where that came from, but if I was giving away whole chapters for free, what would you be paying 10 bucks (+ $5 US shipping or ebook available for $5) for? Sayin' tho. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this look at, in my unbiased opinion, the best book I've written yet...the only so far, but still. Thanks for checking this out...til next Wednesday, I leave you with this old writer's blessing: buy my damn book!



In what other time could I have this home office?
You know, I give a lot of thought to my attempt at a writing career, and I’ve definitely come to the conclusion that I couldn’t have done this in any other time period. I could not have been a writer if it weren’t for all the wonderful, futuristic shit we take for granted on a daily basis. For starters, I’ll drop a confession. Believe it or not, I hate writing, as in using an instrument full of stain to repeatedly mark a slice of dead tree. Always have. Loved thinking of things to record, just disliked that method. I avoid it whenever possible (more and more nowadays).

It could have something to do with my grip on a writing utensil, which is pretty much how one would expect one of those little Lego men with the crescent hands would write. Don’t know where I learned it wrong, but I did. I can tolerate it for short periods like I did back when kids didn’t have computers but after a while my hand cramps. There’s no way in hell I’d be writing multiple thousand-word essays a week like I do here (mostly on the subject of absolutely nothing) if I had to go through that.

Not only that, but how the hell would anybody read this stuff without the internet? The way it currently works, it’s as easy as think, type, post, kthxholla. 20 years back, unless I’m spending hours and Benjamins at the copy store (what?!), the only people who would be consistently exposed to my opinion would be the ones talking to me. That might be a good or bad thing in your view, but if you don’t want to read what I have to say, why are you here? You should be at your daily autofornication appointment.

Anyway, that’s just umf. I didn’t even get to the for-profit ventures yet. I’m on my second book in about a year (yeah, it’s really been that long since I broke ground on “FfYL”) with a screenplay or two mixed in there during that time. I’m going to skip past hypothetically bitching about the tedious task of literally transcribing all these projects onto paper like they did back in the times of feather pens by candlelight. No, the big problem lies in taking them beyond people that know me personally.

See, to get your work beyond your friends and family, you’re either going to need an expensive independent ad campaign or a literary agent. I obviously can’t afford the former right now, but the latter is kind of like those daytime TV lawyers…you only pay them after you’re paid. (Wish I got one of those just for having a cell phone too, though.) Sounds nice, but the problem is getting their services. It involves the sending of—where’s that sideways 8 button…damn...well, very many--of what are called “query letters”.

In case you’re not an industry insider like I am not, query letters are pretty much asking hundreds of random people “wanna be my friend with financial benefits?”, then telling them all about yourself and your writings in a shortish email. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a response asking to read more, but mostly you get a nice form letter telling you their client list is full, you’re not their type, they have to wash their hair that night, or whatever other way of saying “no, thanks” they come up with in the future.

Anyway, the point is if I were trying this in a different time, those query letters wouldn’t be emails, they’d be letters. I’d be stuck here writing (or typewriting, which between making corrections with a tiny paintbrush, discarding overly backspaced pages, changing the ink and pushing that DAMN THING back across the device after every line, seems like a real workout too) reams of letters and waiting for the actual blue-shorts mail to deliver them. I don’t think I’m about that life at all.

It could be just that I’m so used to our modern day conveniences that I can’t imagine life without them. It’s the type of thing people say to prove some kind of survivalist point, and it’s true…if society were to collapse or something, there goes my writing career. I’m not going to be barking off anybody’s real-life soapbox like an extra in “Malcolm X”. It’s not even that I’m an amazing typist, I could probably only get up to 50 wpm with a gun to the back of my head. It’s just that it’s never been easier to share with the class of planet Earth than right now. So, yeah…no doubt I was born in the write time, period.


"FfYL" Quickies: Part II, Chapter 1 (f.u.c.k.)- Your Family

It's Wednesday again, so that means you get a slice of my fully-baked advice...it's another sample of "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life". Today's partially entertaining snippet is from Part II, "For The People You Care About", and talks a little bit about family and why you damn sure can pick them if you put your mind to it. Everybody has "family members" they don't like for whatever reason...here's how to redefine them right out of your life if you want. Check out chapter 1 of Part II, (f.u.c.k.)- Your Family.

Chapter 1: (f.u.c.k.)- Your Family

Family is a funny thing. You see, there have been large changes in American lifestyle since the average family was made up of a man, a woman, 1.5 Beavers and an extended but predictable network of cousins, grandparents, aunts, and drunken uncles. The modern world is one of fluidity and change, which isn't the most conducive environment for some traditions...like the one which dictates what a family member is.

Traditionally, the family was thought of as the people that one sees (or dreads seeing) at holidays, weddings and funerals, those people who may look vaguely like you and have your last name either on the back of their own name or somewhere in their ancestry. You might see these people less than once a year, and in extreme cases you might not even remember you have them until they pop back up...just like genital warts.

However, what nobody seems to look at is the fact that these people had nothing to do with the circumstances of their birth. They did not choose to be related to you as a personal favor, yet are expected to be treated as such by default. In fact, it's well-known that some of these people are the most likely to try and get over on you in some fashion, expecting forgiveness based on his status as "family".

The concept of “family” being a protected subset of people with special inherent rights regardless of merit often functions as a justification for things that an average person knows that he could not get away with regarding another average person. Some of the worst shit in the world is blanketed in family quilts. This leads me to type something that will either tweak your perspective or lose me your readership: Your family just might be overrated. What would lead a person to believe something like that? Hear me out, and you might understand.

Let's start out by examining the word "family". Of course, its denotation, or technical, out-of-context, dictionary definition, points to many people's concept of a family: "a group of people sharing a common ancestry". Of course, anyone who has spent 15 minutes watching National Geographic knows that all people, being (mostly) the same species, must have common ancestry at some point. Hitler could be somewhere on your family tree, as well as any other human beings on the planet. You don't like that, do you? The crystal clear image this fact projects makes the standard definition obsolete.

Now that we've eliminated the archaic definition of what a family is, let's see how it works in practice. The word "family" is tossed around lightly. “Family” is bandied about at meaningless corporate meetings where the participants have yet to find a fuck to give about anyone else in the room. “Family” is coupled with the word "values" to describe anything that a person needs a vague phrase to appeal to people's emotions with. They even have the nerve to use it at Olive Garden restaurants (if I was really family when I’m here, you would bring me more than 3 breadsticks and refill my fucking soup for free, bitch) ...but when it all comes down to it, your family is those who support and care about you regardless of what they can get out of you.

That's about it for today. Of course there's a rest of the chapter, but that costs money. I don't do this shit for my health...well, a little, but it's still a for-profit venture, dig? Aight, until next Wednesday, if you want to check out more "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge", click on keyword "ffyl quickies" here on umf, join the FfYL Facebook fanpage for a great f.u.c.k. every morning, or y'know...buy the damn book. Later, umf'ers!


Oh Boy!

You know, reluctant a parent as I might be, I can’t help but appreciate the few things that did fall in my favor when my carefree kindadult life came crashing down upon me. For one, there’s the woman who my experimentations went awry with. Despite everything I have and will say about this situation, this captain’s first mate is a very capable mommy and partner when she puts her head to it. (Also, she’s cool with me writing a book about the experience of unplanned pregnancy with a cover that sort of depicts her…not every woman would be. I’d still do it, of course…but it’s nice to not have to “argue” about it.) If I was going to accidentally sow my seed, it could have happened in far less suitable fields.

Another thing I find myself thanking whoever is to be thanked for is the fact that I got a boy (and since the guy’s contribution determines the sex of the baby, I guess that’s my department…thanks, AJ). No offense to any of the lovely women who read this shit on a regular basis, but the last thing I needed in my life at that time was another female. I wasn’t going to drop her down a well like in China, but know I would have been highly disappointed to find out that this cute little cloud over my life wouldn’t even get the blue blankets that form the silver lining to this situation.

It’s not exactly a new thing…I’ve always wanted a boy first even back when I didn’t want kids of my own. (I still don’t know if I do, but if I tell you I don’t I could get in trouble with Child Protective Services or something.) Hell, I’ve been looking for a male baby since before my parents brought my sister home (love ya, Amber). I got burned on that one, so I’m just glad justice has finally arrived…even if it was somehow both 20 years late and 3+ years early. So yeah…the circumstances may be far from ideal, but if I look hard enough for reasons for me to be somewhere in the vicinity of happy, there are definitely reasons Y…starting with that chromosome. I can think of 10 off the top of my head:

1)The above. In case you don’t know me, I was a kid and I liked comic books. I never stopped doing either, so I often just walk around wearing various supershit until my powers kick in…or whatever. Every superhero needs a sidekick, and the only truly awesome young sidechick was Hit Girl from “Kick-Ass”. I don’t think mommy would like me teaching our theoretical little girl (or our actual DX, for that matter) to wield butterfly knives and semi-automatic handguns before the age of 13, so most of the other cool options are male.

In the hopes that he would also one day have something to aspire to (or just waste a lot of time in less interesting classes) I got him a few superbaby clothes like that Green Lantern onesie so we can one day save the world together…or just run around making lots of noise in a towel cape and harassing mommy with lightsabers and Power Ranger weapons. In practice, it’s almost identical. I’m not sure I would have been allowed or even inclined to send a baby girl on such a path.

2) Sports. Football good. Basketball good. Baseball good. Ball fun. Sports good. Play sports good. Watch sports good. Especially Cowboys good. Daddy teach this at very young age and is justified in doing so…isn’t that right? Isn’t that right? Yes it iiiiiis.

3) Diaper changes: Not to make anything weird out of it, but…hmm, how shall I say this…it’s much easier to perform any task with a layout you’re familiar with. For example, I have an Android smartphone. It’s very user-friendly and I’ve had one for a long time, so I have an extensive knowledge of how it functions and what one must do to keep it in proper working order. If necessary, I can confidently navigate any Android phone, accessing all the necessary menus with ease based on my knowledge of my own lifestyle device.

However, I imagine that having a girl would have been something like having an iPhone plopped into my hand. I have never personally owned one, and while I have a basic idea of how all smartphones should be maintained, its interface has a bit more of a learning curve. I wouldn’t immediately know what I’m doing. I have no idea about the finer points of its operation, and truthfully I don’t care to find out. I’d be afraid of accidentally making an ill-directed swipe and messing something up.

If I have to use someone else’s likely filthy phone (Picture the dirtiest person you know. Now picture an average day with your phone. Would you put a phone that has been the places you put and take yours near your mouth with a smile? Okay.) I at least would prefer to know exactly how to use it so I can give the shit back as soon as possible.

4) Tommy Pickles- I don’t think anyone will dispute me when I say that this little Rugrat is the best fictional baby of all time. Courageous, curious, an overdeveloped imagination, a strong sense of adventure, and a boy…I always imagined if I one day had a child, I would want him to be like Tommy (only cute…that was one interestingly drawn infant). He got the boy part right…the rest I’m willing to wait and see.

5) No tea parties- Do I really have to sit here and prose on about how I’m glad I won’t have to be sitting my 6’4” ass down at a table a foot off the ground wearing a church hat with my daughter sipping sunlight out of a decorative plastic cup surrounded by various pink and purple animals and plastic children until she grows out of it? Didn’t think so.

6) Play fighting- I’m looking forward to smacking the little chump around a little, just to show him I like him. Tap-boxing, beginners’ wrestling, general roughhousing…it’s part of a little boy’s childhood, and I’m glad I get to do it (until the third time his overprotective mommy asks us to stop…usually after that someone gets hurt either way). Also fun is the fact that I’m toying with using the Sharpshooter as a disciplinary tool…can’t do that to a girl, she’d be wearing a skirt (my sister doesn’t count).

7) No ballet recitals- Having a boy isn’t a total guarantee of this, but the likelihood of this has decreased to a wholly tolerable level. I can sum up my perspective thusly: I don’t fuckin’ wanna.

8) Future big bro- I am a big brother, and I know all the rights and responsibilities the position entails. As such, I can, from experience, teach him how to be a boy, an effective big brother for his eventual sibling (it’s gonna happen one distant day), and eventually a man. It’s just more convenient for me to do it as one long course. I have no idea how to train a big sister and even less a little brother. Mommy’s a siblinghood of one, so I’m not sure how she’d work the big sis angle either. I just think it’s best it turned out this way.

9) No awkward drugstore trips- I’d have to walk down an aisle getting married before I’d walk down that aisle (and probably not even then). I have no business there. Never have…it’s a no man’s land. The only situation I would allow for in recent months during my various real-life debates on the subject was for my daughter needing to visit this section of the store for the first time and having no one else to turn to. Now that I do not have a daughter, I can return to my blanket “if you know there’s going to be a flood every month you keep sandbags in stock, dippy” policy.

10) 16 and not possibly pregnant- That has to be awkward from both sides, admittedly…but I’d be Human Torch-hot if I got into this scenario with my daughter. I True, despite all the really great advice I’m going to give him on avoiding such a pitfall entirely, he could land waist deep in this kind of shit too…but hey, I already wrote a book about the various ways a guy can deal with an unplanned pregnancy, right? (Talk about your circle of life…I wouldn’t appreciate the situation, but the irony would defy disdain.)

At least he’ll know what to expect…the only book there is for my daughter getting pregnant underage is the one they’ll end up putting me in downtown. Unfair? Illogical? Sure…welcome to parenthood, bitch.

Like I said…the situation isn’t the best, but it could be worse…I could have gotten a girl. Of course, now that I have what I kinda wanted, I’ll gladly welcome a little princess…some year…and on that far away day, I may have to deal with some girl stuff. However, by then I’ll have had at least 5 years to mentally prepare myself for doing it…it’s more than I can say for having a kid in the first place, and I’m doing pretty okay with that. I’ll jump off that bridge when I come to it. Thanks for winning that swimming race, DX…hey, maybe you’re an athlete already!


Fatal Attachment

By now I’m sure you’ve seen the above cover of Time Magazine, depicting a young mother breastfeeding her child. Of course, just looking at that first sentence without the picture, it would seem that there’s nothing wrong with it. I’m not sure I know anyone who would raise issue simply because a mother is pictured nourishing her infant child.

However, the picture does exist. You’re looking right at it, and if you are I think you can see what’s wrong with it…the kid is kinda old for that. I mean, look at him. It’s a little weird, innit? He can ask for milk using entire sentences and is still getting it from inside his mommy’s shirt? Does he pull it out himself at this point? Is she going to give him a breast pump with a krazy straw for his 5th birthday? Where does it end? No time soon, according to what the article calls “attachment parents”.

Attachment parents believe in keeping a baby, toddler, child (and eventually adult I guess) as close to you as possible, as long as possible. This entails things like wearing one’s baby around the house at all times, sleeping in bed with mommy and daddy, and breastfeeding until middle school. They believe this fosters an unbreakable bond between parents and child, and will form connections that will last a lifetime. I believe the same…kinda.

See, I could be wrong, but I could have sworn the entire point of being a parent was to eventually raise a functioning, well-adjusted, independent person who can contribute to society in a somewhat meaningful manner (like talking shit on the internet and writing polarizing but hilarious books…thanks mom and dad). To do that, you’ll have to detach at some point…and you are not doing that if your child is washing solid food down with freshly nippled breastmilk.

Before anyone even says it, yes, I may or may not have been fed that way back when I was just a baby asshollectual. (I don’t know because I refuse to ask.) The point is, I don’t know. I wouldn’t remember. I’m pretty sure I would be mildly traumatized if I did. My mommy did a damn fine job of bringing me up regardless, defying the odds the magazine set forth when they asked her and every other mother were they "mom enough" to pop a titty in their kid’s mouth long past time for a sippy cup.

In fact, she was "mom enough" to even raise someone like me…that act is worthy of more respect than attention-whoring on the cover of a magazine because you think you’re a better mother than others who do not take baths with their kids after they can run the water themselves. She was "mom enough" to let go. I know I'm still her baby somewhere in her mommy-warped mind, but she does not feed me as such.

Poor kid, too. Yeah, this magazine cover will totally evaporate into the sands of time by school-age. He will never hear about this again in his life. No, he will experience no backlash from cruel, cruel children after being exploited on a magazine cover as an honestly creepy example of extreme parenting. Luckily, the internet is temporary, right? Oh, wait. Yeah.

Only thing good for him is that the type of parent who would breastfeed her child like a walk-through milk bar is also the type of parent who would sue a school because her kid didn’t make the football team or something…so at least he’ll be popular with his peers, right? Glad she considered that before she decided to volunteer to breastfeed her damn-near school age child on the cover of an internationally published periodical.

Most jokes aside, I can understand wanting to be a good parent to your child. I’m even taking some adult learning courses on it myself. I’m just saying you can do that better if you cut the umbilical cord at some point and let your kid be a kid. By the time DX is 3, I’m hoping he’ll be running around knocking his head into things and forgetting we exist until he wants something like a normal child and not clinging to our laps like a neglected cat. How is your kid ever supposed to exist in his or her own skin if you barely ever let ‘em out of yours?

Maybe it’s just me. I don’t know, it seems clear-cut to me but apparently it’s a hot topic. In the end, I guess Time Magazine got what they wanted, everybody is talking about this including me. It was intended to provoke discussion, and that’s just what it did. I’m just glad I’ll never have to discuss anything like this with the mother of my child or the mother of my self. Could be just the way I was raised…oh well, I like not having that kind of milk in my moustache.


"FfYL" Quickies- Part I, Chapter 1: (f.u.c.k.)- Training

Picking up where we left off last Wednesday, here's another free look at my currently available anthology of apt and appilcable asshollectualism, "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life". Today we start at the beginning as we check out chapter 1 of part I, "For Your Job". Enjoy, and please don't be afraid to share...it's free, after all.

Part I- For Your Job, Chapter 1: (f.u.c.k.)- Training

Let's start this journey of infotainment off with something nobody wants to discuss...their job. (Why? Just check out the title. You can't possibly get more fucked than this.)

So, you've decided to sell your time to a company. Looking forward to getting paid, right? Not just yet, my fellow serf…there is some time that you must likely give the company without any compensation, or even useful function, in most cases...your training.

You see, training is something that many jobs from assistant shirt folder at Old Navy right on up to head engineer at Boeing require at some point during one's employ there. Even though in cases such as the former--the vast majority--training isn’t really required for anyone who has not been declared mentally deficient in some way, some number crunching dickheads in a business think tank somewhere continue to tout the perceived effectiveness of training on employee efficiency, and the corporations are listening.

My insane idea that a company could achieve a similarly positive result in their workforce by only hiring people that can sort files/flip burgers/polish knobs straight off the street notwithstanding, if you are hired for a job, the odds are you will have to experience training of some sort. This is as inevitable as a large star’s eventual collapse into a black hole, and sucks just as much.

However, there are certain steps that one can take that will decrease the suckage by as much as 43%. They are the 10 Commandments of Training, and they will appear below:

1) Thou shalt not show up late: It reflects poorly on your employee performance...and more importantly, all the good muffins, bagels and danishes will be taken by other, earlier trainees. Do you want to be the person who walks in right as the last cinnamon-frosted apple filled crumb donut is snatched up? It’s one thing to have to listen to the bullshit you’re about to hear, quite another to do so with stale coffee and the one twisty donut nobody ever wants. Just get there on time and the rest is up to you.

2) Thou shalt attend the entirety of the training: If you skip just one day of a training program for any reason, they will likely make you do the whole thing over again, like the one missed day somehow cancels out the other 4.

If there's anything worse than being left back as a child, it's being left back as an adult. Since many low-level management types WERE left back as kids, they would love nothing better than to give you the same experience. Do yourself a favor, if you attend one day, go to them all...and of course, if you skip the first day, skip the rest of that cycle as well.

3) Thou shalt pay close attention: …if you're going to work anywhere with dangerous things like molten steel, poisonous chemicals, corrosive materials, or angry parents. The rest of you have the benefit of optional mental attendance. Seriously, how in-depth an examination of foodservice inventory procedures do you need? If you can’t count ketchup packets, they never should have hired your dumb ass.

Oh, wait...gotta stop you right there. Can't show it all for free...then what would I sell for $10 plus shipping, ebook also available for $5? (Damn that ad mode is hard to turn off.) Hope you enjoyed today's excerpt...and of course, if you want to see the rest, you could always buy your own f.u.c.k'n copy, right?



Changing gloves: Stylish and functional.

When a baby is born, it usually goes home with a number of standard hospital-issue items given to mommy to make her job a little easier. They include such things as a couple of bottles, swaddling cloths, assorted baby pamphlets, and maybe a little hat to help mold baby's head into a human shape. Daddy, on the other hand, doesn't usually get too many lovely parting gifts, and I don't think that's fair, given that he's expected to do just as much (well, a comparable amount.)

For obvious reasons, I don't think that's fair. I think there are a few supplies that should also come standard for the other half of a parental unit, and after a few months of firsthand research, I've identified them in an effort to make known the need for them in the life of a rookie dad. They can keep most of that shit they give her, like the baby books (especially since the male answer for most baby questions is "oh, it's probably fine") ...but maybe one day, we'll get a parent-specific bag of party favors too. All right, here goes:

Disaster cloth- Sure, they give you those puny burping napkins that are apparently designed to be thrown up on twice a day when you take baby home. Of course, since your average baby somehow throws up more than it eats, what they give you to keep that off of yourself is totally inadequate.

A disaster cloth is that bitch-ass handkerchief's big brother, covering half of your body from shoulder to hip so baby can be burped without fear of having baby smile the half a bottle of milk you spent an hour feeding it down the collar of your shirt or the crack of your ass. It's the closest thing we have to a hazmaternity suit.

Silencer- Many people call this a "pacifier", but as there is rarely anything pacific about a baby for long, I prefer to call it what it is. The sweet relief that comes when you can finally get the thing installed on a screaming baby may be second only to what created it.

Diaper gloves- Changing a diaper is, by necessity, a messy affair. While some people are only too happy to wantonly play around in stuff that came out of the bottom of the tiny person in their charge, others are less than enthused about the whole thing. These washable gloves intended specifically for changing both increase your grip on a struggling infant and allow one to fearlessly do deep, vigorous cleaning in vital areas.

Sure, you could just swipe a box of disposable doctor gloves when you're waiting around to be seen for hours at some baby appointment or other...but not everyone is about that life like me. For the benefit of those who don't really like getting their hands dirty in either way, these should be included in DaddyPaks.

Aspirin- Waah. Waah-wa-waaaaaaaaaah! A-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh. WAAAAH! (Are you hungry? ...no.) AAAAAAH! HAH-HAH-HAH....UUUUUU...WAAAAAAH! (You're not wet, I just changed you...) WAAAAEEAAAEEAAAAAAH! (You just woke up in my arms after going to sleep there 20 minutes ago, you're not sleepy.) AH-AH-AAAAHHHHUUUAAAAHH-HAH-HAH!!! (ugh...fucking hell...) *baby fakes a smile* eh? ooooh? (Hmm...okay, that's better.) *baby's face recrumples* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! (*daddy's brain leaks from ears and nose*)

If you're at all familiar with what I'm talking about, you know why plenty of this should come home with every new daddy, if not a year's supply of the all-natural supplements I take to maintain my calm, sense of humor and overall sanity.

Baby Buzzer- Okay, so this doesn't really exist yet...but I could write an entire post about why it should. You know how cell phones can be set to vibrate instead of ring if you really don't want to hear all that noise but still would like to know if something needs your attention? That, except with babies.

With its seperate vibration patterns, you could know when the baby needs to be fed, changed, burped, held, or played with as soon as it goes off...and more importantly, know when it's not really important and can be ignored. Can you imagine how much better it would be to be able to ignore spam calls in all phases of life? I can...some science-type guy should get on that and call me when he's done to discuss our profit sharing.

I don't know about you, but I really think those items being handed out standard would make things go just a bit easier for a first-time father. Of course, I have most of these items now, but it would have been a nice gesture from the hospital to send me home fully prepared for what I was about to do...equipment-wise, anyway.


Greater Expectations

Can't say I expected this when I started book #2 back in February...

Every so often through some aberration of coincidence, two completely unrelated things become permanently linked together as an eventual result of an interesting similarity or two. While that is a pretty good explanation of where babies come from and thus on topic for both works we'll discuss today, it's also a description of the situation I find myself in while writing this second book of mine.

...aaaaand in this corner, your challeng-ah...
See, as umf'ers may know, I'm working on this newest anthology of asshollectualisms I call "What to Expect When You're Expecting (The Worst)" and, in 10 words or less, explores unplanned pregnancies and the dawn of a new error. As way more people probably know (because I can barely afford to print the book I have out now, let alone buy TV time as part of a national multimedia ad campaign), Hollywood has been working on a flick by the name of "What to Expect When You're Expecting."

Now, I wouldn't even feel right without giving you full disclosure: the title of my book is kinda borrowed from that old pregnancy book that I'm pretty sure was out back when my grandparents were expecting. That book is by the same name as the upcoming movie, and unsurprisingly the film is based on it. It discusses "the happiest time in life" in the most glowing and reverent of tones, saying all the right things and assures  mother, child, and that other guy that as long as they go by the book, everybody will live happily every after.

At the very least, I had the dice to roll in a different direction. See, I'm a person that isn't afraid of the inconvenient truth, and that includes the fact that pregnancy ain't always a celebration, bitches. Just as a quick example: you know those pregnancy test commercials where future mommy sits excitedly in future daddy's arms, waiting for the machine to show them the jackpot?

You have to know that's not the way it usually goes down. Usually one or both of them is crying, pissed, scared half to birth, praying to any available gods for a positive result (by their standards, not the test's) or not doing any of the above because they're absent and plan on staying that way...and if you don't know that, you should really check this shit out. It discusses the craziest time in life in the most authentic way I know how, saying all the real things and not promising that baby, mama, and the man in the jam will all escape with their lives reasonably intact, but assuring you that as long as you go buy the book you should at least get a laugh out of it.

Me? I don't think they're anything alike. You just can't put sugarcoated Hollywood bullshit up against the 100-proof truth...you know what they say about candy and liqour. The comparison's only skin-deep, but that's the only layer everyone gets to see, right? (That's why aesthetically challenged people have such a hard run at life.) Kinda leaves me in a sticky spot though...no matter how good my book is and how well it eventually does, because of the accidental timing of both releases, they'll sorta be together forever (which is another pretty good description of where babies come from).

It's cool. Okay, I'm the little guy in this situation, but so is the random nail on the highway. Nobody knows about me before I'm sticking out of their tire, but I'm sharp enough to be a threat in the right position. I'm not changing the name. I'm not shelving the project. I'm damn sure not going to be known as anybody's knockoff...but there's the problem with the name similarity. At first glance, people may think I'm some kind of plagiarwriter. (Of course, y'all know the truth and I'd appreciate you correcting anyone who thinks otherwise.)

As mentioned earlier, I don't think they're too much alike, but then I'm not trying to sell my book to myself...therefore, something must change. It will, too...my attitude changed. In my eyes, the key to this situation is to invite the comparison and be on the long end of it. Before, I was writing a book, now I'm proving a point...and I've been doing the second way longer than the first. Wish me luck, umf'ers.


"FfYL" Quickies: (f.u.c.k.- Your Intro)

*fittedwearer's note: So it was brought to my attention how little sense it makes that people who visit here can read more of the book I'm not even finished writing yet than the one currently available on here, the "FfYL" fanpage, Amazon, and any other retailer with the balls to stock it...so I'm gonna start putting up samples of "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life" on Wednesdays.

I know every random asshole with fingers and a dream will tell you that their book is worth reading, and most of them are wrong. (Of course, I'm not just any asshole, I'm an asshollectual...but I could still be wrong.) Here's your chance to find out if I am for yourself. The first hit is always free, so you get the whole intro...but the ones after this will be selected portions (that's fancy talk for "enough to see if you like it while still leaving you plenty to buy). Aight, without any further introbation, here it is...the introduction to "Fresh Uncensored Critical Knowledge for Your Life".

(f.u.c.k.)- Your Intro

Some things never change…until they do. It's true, over the last couple of decades, we've made leaps and bounds in almost every facet of human life. As a result, the future we inhabit is advanced almost beyond belief. Just think about it...a few years ago, life was completely different than it was now. I remember it like it was just yesteryear.

A grown man tweeting in public might be placed under intense psychiatric care. If you wanted music on the go, iPods only came in one size and color, and were called boomboxes. Men almost exclusively asked women out and not the other way around, Dinner/movie dates, once commonplace, are now semi-archaic. Text messages were usually handwritten and left in places only the recipient could find them by a stalker, who were at the time referred to as "secret admirers".

Hell, I even heard that 20 years ago, there was no internet. I don't believe it, but they insist on sticking with the story. Honestly, it's a whole new world. As I sit here writing this ebook on the computer, exchanging texts with old friends, checking my website, and taking periodic Madden breaks with my smartphone all while at my job (and knowing that sentence would have been complete gibberish just a couple of decades ago), I can't help but feel kind of bad for the people that haven't learned to get the most out of this new version of life.

Moreover, I realize with more conviction each passing day what really hasn't advanced much over the past 23 years, about as far back as I go: the rules governing the new relationships of this new world. The fact is, the old ways of dealing with people are all but done for...they don't make "Sorry I deleted you on Facebook" Hallmark cards, fruit baskets apologizing for drunken, naked video calls, or “While You Were Outsourced” memo slips for a reason.

The methods we use to deal with each other and the situations we do so in have outpaced the development of established rules used to govern them. Unfortunately, this has resulted in a near-complete vacuum of standardized conduct in most forums of human interaction nowadays, be it at home, at work, with friends, with a lover (vertically or horizontally) ...even online. The game of life itself really never changes, but the rules are in a constant state of flux. That's where the book you're holding comes in.

Using my unofficial doctorate in modern studies obtained after 23 years of advanced courses at the University of Real Life with a minor in third-party failure observation and risk management, I will attempt to bridge the gap between the knows and the know-nots in this contemporary world of ours by making sense of it all...or just give you a few dollars worth of giggles on a long trip. Whatever.

Either way, enjoy...and get ready to get f.u.c.k.'d (and yes, reasonably intelligent people use casual profanity nowadays. Get a context clue).

Thanks for participating this little f.u.c.k. session! If you're feeling it, you don't have to keep it a secret...you can tell all your friends. Want more? Well, there will be another little taste for you around here next Wednesday...but if you can't contain yourself until then, you could always buy it. Hopefully, today you learned that paying for good f.u.c.k. is a victimless crime (unlike not doing it, which just hurts us both :p ).