I'd appreciate it very much if you'd just . . . shut the fuck up.
And I'd appreciate it very much if you'd just . . . go the fuck away.
And I'd appreciate it very much if you'd just . . . back the fuck up.
And I'd appreciate it very much if you'd just . . . DROP DEAD.

Thank you to Pitchshifter and "Keep It Clean" for the title.

To the two pigfuckers who gave me a citation for "tresspassing" because the trolley runs every 30 minutes instead of 15 and I'd rather not be late for work than try to get up four hours early due to the capriciousness of the Sunday schedule: FUCK YOU. Get cancer.

And to the SEVEN pigfuckers--my alleged co-workers--who enacted the world's largest cockblock to date around Dushku, her puppy, and the boyfriend (```````````````, btw), FUCK YOU, get cancer, get bent, get PROSTATE cancer, get a facelift with a chainsaw, get raped up the ass by a SARS-riddled bear, get eyes that see only Runaway Bride & Will & Grace, ears that only hear Celine Dion and fourteen-inch dicks that don't orgasm.

All nine of you cum-chugging ass clowns have positions of power but your own self-fellating makes you think you're the three richest kings of Europe. DIE. SLOWLY. Reaching for something you want but will never have.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum; by the time I get up at 4, I'll be on to the next thing, but your scumbaginess is going to be a gnat at my ear for months to come. Congratulations. You're on the shitlist.

NEXT.