What the F is up with…

Seriously, do you ever just see something or someone and think, “What the F is up with that?” I do.

• Chicks who drive trucks - What are you trying to prove here? That you're more manly than me? Well, you are. OK?
  
• People letting their dogs lick your junk - Please remove your dog from my crotch neighbors, homeless men and Seattle dog lovers. Sure I'm a little down on my nuzzle luck, but I'm not that hard up.
  
• The one d-bag who parks in the RH lane when it’s posted not to park there during certain times - I hate this guy. If you're this guy, watch your ass, because I'm coming for you and your little 2002 Silver Jetta. You know who drives Sliver Jettas? Ex-Girlfriends, that's who.
  
• Microsoft Outlook (you dirty bastard Bill) - I am willing to bet the majority of corporate America can empathize with having to bend over and take it up the Outbox from ol' Billy-boy and the Borg on this one. I wish I was better at Linux.
  
• Girls who want to be “friends” - Seriously? Seriously? I have friends. They have names like Jon and Owen and Drew. That's because they're guys and I don't want to see them naked. I don't need friends named Tanya and Lisa. I need dates named Tanya and Lisa.
  

And finally, what the F is up with that smiley face on takeout Styrofoam boxes? Sure, I’m happy to see his face when I open up my plastic bag-knot and smell that spicy chicken, just waiting to get inside my mouth. However, when I’m done and I’ve licked the Styrofoam clean of any rice, teriyaki and chicken remains, I close the box and that little dickhead’s still there. Smiling. Looking. Judging.

Don’t just me smiling man. I hate that there is no more wondrous food under your lid of lies.