When I started seeing people end their sentences with “FML” on Twitter, I couldn’t figure out what it meant for the life of me. “Freaking Macaroni Lady?” Yeah, those women can be pretty rowdy. “Farting Moose Lives?” Hooray, I was worried about that gaseous animal! “Fleecing My Llama?” Good, it’s winter time.
Crazy enough, the same sequence of events occurred when everyone started saying “FTW,” too, but that’s another story.
Anyway, it turns out that FML stands for Fuck My Life. SURPRISE! Don’t tell me I never gave you anything. People use this phrase when they are feeling downtrodden. Here are some of my favorites, taken from fmylife.com, a website where people can submit their reasoning for why their life sucks, and others vote whether their life really is sucky or if they’re just being a chump. Does anyone say “chump” any more? Am I being PC? Oh well. Gosh, I’m getting distracted. Back to the gloom of everyday life:
- Today, I was doing homework in my room when my roommate started meowing all of a sudden. Not only was he meowing, he started to make loud cat noises that resembled a cat being run over by a car. He’s gonna be my roommate for the rest of the year. FML
- Today, my boyfriend of 6 months called me. He said his mom was making him choose between having a dog or having a girlfriend. I asked him which one he picked. He was quiet, I heard barking in the background. FML
- Today, I woke up to find my boyfriend watching me sleep. I asked him if he was staring at me because he was in love. He replied that it was because my farting wouldn’t let him sleep. FML
And I had one of my own FML experiences today, although probably not as freaking hilarious as the above people’s misfortunes. Lately I’ve become a bit obsessed with crafting, partly because I am actually 65 years old. Seriously, though, the other night my boyfriend and I went to Borders on a Saturday night and I sat in the craft section reading Martha Stewart’s Encyclopedia of Crafts. Wait, I could have just made that into a FML submission: “Spent my Saturday night with my boyfriend learning how to make paper birds. FML.” Except I really enjoy it, so it’s okay and not at all loser-ish. And yes, I ended up buying the book.
So this evening I was in Michael’s scouring the store for supplies I need to make some of my Christmas gifts. It takes me approximately three minutes to decide whether or not to buy ANY item – it’s one of my charms – and I had about fifteen items in my cart, so I had been in the store at least 45 minutes. Add another 15 minutes for the other five items I had either decided not to buy or had painstakingly put back on the shelf, and I figure I had been wandering the aisles for a good hour. Finally, I made my Triumphant Walk to the cash register, and my cheeks were probably a little flushed from all the pacing I had been doing – not to mention from the shrill joy I knew I’d be experiencing as I unwrapped my brand new hot glue gun later that night.
So he rang up my items, commented about the awful Christmas music he’d been listening to all day, and took my cash. And RIGHT as he was typing in the amount to the computer so that I could get my change, my FML moment came to fruition.
The power went out.
In the whole store.
And all the traffic lights were out.
He gave me back my money as the register drawer hadn’t yet opened. And we waited a few minutes as the elderly ladies and moms with annoying children scurried about in the darkness. He had even already packed my reusable bag with all of my stuff! I reflected on my mortality and my future afterlife as I contemplated just putting my bag around my shoulder and fleeing. “Hell will be a blast!” I thought.
Blurgh. The power did not come back on, and I was ushered out of the store. I did not steal the merchandise I had so bonded with. I still had my $30, but gosh darnit, I really did not want to leave without my cardstock and styrofoam balls. Now I’ll have to go again tomorrow night and try to retrace my steps. FML. Life can be so unfair.























