Every so many weeks my best friend and I get together to hang out. It’s not like most bros: there’s no beer and there’s no partying in the typical sense. It’s just me and him, some food, maybe a movie or music or comedy, and epic banter until we’re both delirious.
Given our professional lives, we don’t often get to unbridle our personalities because it’s hard to know who’ll be offended at the truths or the ridiculousness of our observations. However, it is therapeutic and I dare say necessary to have such an outlet. We exercise our freedom to say things, concisely, with full understanding that the shortest distance between two points of a conversation is a straight line even if it ain’t pretty.
It is sobering.
In our last hangout we accidentally coined a new term that has given life to this blog. The term is:
THAT’S the fuck.
Now I know it seems pretty vulgar but hey hey hey… we’re all adults here.
We’ve said it, we’ve thought it, we’ve used some form of it. Even if you’re religious and you substituted the f-bomb with “hell” OR even if you’re a saint and you substituted “hell” with “heck”. It’s all representative of a moment where your brain had so many questions and/or responses that you could only think those three words.
And so that’s how we came up with TTF. He said it. I liked it. And we began entertaining the idea of a blog where we could analyze any “what the fuck” moment and identify, for all intents and purposes, “the fuck” therein.
That’s what we did for an entire evening. In each topic or story whenever we reached the root cause of every circumstance we’d punctuate the conversation with those words.
THAT’S the fuck: That’s the part that makes the whole moment, situation, story, or circumstance so utterly bad.
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