Iron Fist

Because you demanded it…the Fuck You List. Here’s a collection of fuck you’s that have been accumulating lately:

• Comment Spam: To all blog-perusing webspiders and robots from eastern Europe and other assorted parts of the world, without further ado, fuck you. Seriously, is comment spam even fucking useful? What’s the point? Do you really think people read blogs and say, “You know, some of the stuff he had on his site was pretty interesting, but I sure am glad he had those four thousand links in his comments to sites that feature lesbo sex and viagra”? (Note: Iron Fist will be launching lesbo sex and viagra categories later this year. Stay tuned.) Thankfully, I got on the Akismet bandwagon tonight and have been obliterating my comment spam. Here at Iron Fist, we don’t just block spam; we Fist it.
• Asshole Customers: A 14-pack of tools waltzed into a friend’s work and decided that instead of her real name they were going to call her ‘Dave.’ Oh yeah, that’s clever, asshole, real clever. You know what else is clever? Fuck you and your circle jerk party. I’m glad you got iced tea poured on your crotch. I only wish it had been kerosene instead. Dick.
• Whoever peed in the elevator: OK, so I don’t really know if that was a puddle of piss in my apartment elevator, but I wasn’t about to bend down to smell it to find out. If it was piss, fuck you, that’s gross. If it wasn’t, one of my shitweed neighbors still left several pools of something in the elevator. Come on, you jerks, we have to live here, don’t trash the damn place.
• Construction vendors: I’m not going to name the company that did the work on my new office/closet at work for liabilty reasons, so for ease of reference I’ll just refer to them as the Society of Mouthbreathers. I don’t know what kind of credentials you need to join the Society, but I don’t think it’s anything terribly difficult to come by. For all I know a preponderance of knuckle hair is enough for you to make the cut and get hired there. Then you can install my ceiling access panels the wrong way so that no one can use them, which is crucial since earlier you and your half-wit buddies installed an air conditioner that didn’t work and now nobodoy can get to it to work on it. So what’s your solution, Society of Mouthbreathers? Bring in a Volkswagen-sized portable AC unit and set it up right by my desk where I’m supposed to sit? Leave it there for a week before you get around to installing a thermostat? Install the thermostat the wrong way so that it cools my room down to 58 degrees? Good call, dickburgers. Oh yeah, and fuck you.
• Herpes: Actually, I’m just kidding about that one. Everyone loves herpes — it’s great!

Right, that’s it for now. Come back later, I’ll be cranky again soon.