Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I'm sure we've all recently squirmed uncomfortably at fmylife.com, the website devoted to giving poor, awkward saps an outlet to not feel as bad about themselves. As someone who often identifies themselves as a poor, awkward sap, I've thrown myself headfirst into devouring each post the way an aardvark would an ant farm. (yeah, I just unleashed an aardvark analogy. suck it.)
After reading about 30 pages of horrific stories, it occurred to me that I should post something. I figured a true FML reader would want to give back to the pathetic community...give the other schmoes a chance to cringe and giggle and immediately copy/paste the tale to their Twitter page.
Well, fuckmylife, they haven't posted a single effing one.
Which leads me to ponder two important questions: Who is this asshole that gets to not only read, but deny the FML stories, and also, am I living the ultimate FML?
Today, I realized fml has never and will never post my suggested FMLs. FML.
I have sent literal gold to these dickwads. My own father mentioned to me that I'm pretty lucky to be alive because I was $100 bucks away from being aborted. (Apparently his dad wouldn't loan him the rest.) HOW DOES THAT NOT QUALIFY AS AN FML?
All I can say is that the creators of this site are French, and that maybe that's the answer to my confusion. So while le FML frogs sit on their throne of judgement and money, I will sit at my desk, shove FREEDOM fries in my mouth and be grateful that my grandfather happened to be strapped for cash at some point in early 1985.