This is a phrase I find myself using quite often. I use it when someone takes my parking spot. I mumble it under my breath when I’m in line at hotel registration and someone jumps right in front of you citing “I just need to ask a question.” I hate you. That’s what the line is for. Get in it like the rest of us. Go fuck yourself.  “Go Fuck Yourself” has become my go-to phrase. It solves a multitude of emotional ranges all in three little words. 
Allow me to show you. I go out on a few dates with a nerdy scientist guy. At first glance, he’s not really my type. He’s not the “hot guy” that would normally catch my attention; But, his odd way of communicating is humorous to me. Where everyone else would find his awkward statements annoying, I found him unique and adorable. Let’s watch a movie. Ok. It’s The Hobbit movie. Why are you picking apart the scientific relevance of how a bridge would actually fall with an ogre on top of it? Damn fantasy films. I guess the scientific part of it flies out the window in a movie like that. But who am I to judge? Everyone Is entitled to be a little different. Or just a straight up oddball. And it was kind of cute. Back to the point. He walks me to my car. He opens doors. He made old fashioned new again. I had found a breath of fresh air. He didn’t seem to be acting strangely. But beware of scrawny scientists, ladies. I leave for a trip, and he disappears off the face of the planet. GFY. Apparently, that breath of fresh air was contaminated. GFY. It’s the umbrella for all emotions pointing south in this case. Inconsiderate jerk. GFY. Disrespectful little prick. GFY. Non-gentlemanly behavior. GFY. Android devoid of human feeling. You get the idea. Oh and by the way… GFY. 
I’ve gotta thank my hot canoli bestie, Evan, for this new phrase. I’m new to the acronym -even though I’ve kept saying it with a dash dyslexia- and having had a love affair already in full swing with telling people to go fuck themselves. I figured telling you guys about it would help me use the acronym much more effectively than outright saying the F-bomb. Which I do. A lot. In a bank. Or at a park. Or at some other high follutin function I may be privy. My filter needs work… But then again, would you want it any other way? Nah. You’d tell me to GFY. 

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