It had to come out

NOTE: If you don't wish to see the "F" word, move along.

I've been keeping it in for so long, it is just bursting to come out.

Fuck.

There. I said it. Or wrote it, actually, which isn't quite the same cathartic experience that screaming it is.

Every Wednesday night I play in a floor hockey game. We've been playing for almost three years, and have rarely missed games, but the past two months we've struggled to have enough people. this wednesday night, exactly six people and no goalies showed up.

It's a friendly, fierce game. Most of the people who play grew up together within a few years of each other. The game is intense, and offers lots of opportunity to let the previous seven days of frustrations work themselves out. And of course, plenty of cursing, kidding, and the occasional fight.

My last fight was two years ago. Before that, my last fight was in the fourth grade. In some karmic crazy way, my fight was with the same guy. I beat him up in fourth grade, and I knocked him down as a couple of 29 year olds playing a "friendly" game of hockey.

But Fuckin A, if I wouldn't have wanted to play this week. Get rid of the rage and anger that builds up. Mad at my wife. It disspates in a torrent of motherfucker, bitch and asshole tossed out at someone I'm playing with.

Sucky week at work. Shoot the puck, run someone into the wall, and yell at my teammates to play some fucking defense.

Then, this week, all the fuck shit asshole fuck bitch gets kept inside, bursting and ready to come out.

And here's a news flash for you. Writing fuck on Friday morning at work isn't nearly as therapeutic as playing a game of hockey.

Some of it is out. The rest will have to come out later, hopefully next Wednesday, and not toward the kids or anyone else who doesn't really deserve it.

But first, here's the Fuck you honor roll for people not showing up on Wednesday.

Fuck you rip, and mr nose job so i can't play for three weeks.

Fuck you mo, for always bitching that the game starts late, and not showing up until 9:30 every week anyway. And a double fuck you just for the hell of it.

Fuck you Z, and bob, and brad and everyone else who didn't bother showing up.

I know how important it was for you to stay home and watch fucking Lost on TV and some reality TV bullshit show.

Fuck you all.

You know, as this post moved along, and I got more into writing it, I actually did feel some of the weekly build stres buildup dissolve.