Fallbrookisms, the I-hate-the-holidays edition



Note: Read no further if foul language gives you the vapors.



A holiday shopping parking-lot encounter



Small car passenger to the competitive parker in the obscenely large SUV: Fuck you. … I mean Merry Christmas.

At the pub

Gal 1: We’re both fucking broke, so we agreed not to give each other gifts. Gal 2: She’s in nursing school; maybe she could at least give you a pelvic?

Robert: Fuck you — in the best sense of the term Meredith: Fuck you — with all the love I can muster.

At the Café des Artistes

Daughter: I hate her! Mother: Come on, be of good cheer and kind heart. Daughter: Fuck that.

There is nothing quote-worthy in here because everyone is depressing and lame. I hate the fucking holidays.

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