Fuck VD

Fuck VDHulu employees are overwhelmingly young. Most are just out of college, and it shows when you walk around the office looking at the assorted curation of cubicle art and assorted curios. But sometimes these bitches make me feel fucking old. Take for instance this VD anecdote which further fuels my disdain for the fake holiday.

I know this is completely sophomoric, but it just cracks me up when I tell people, “Happy VD!” I realize it’s trite and all, but it still cracks me up to no end.

However today I heard the one thing that turned my silliness into pure unadulterated hate. I said this to someone at the office, and in return I received a blank look. This was beyond my comprehension. After all this was a fucking joke!

“What’s VD,” this person asked.

And it was then I realized that this person was too young to remember when STDs were referred to as venereal diseases. The urge to stab this person in the throat almost became too insurmountable to overcome, but after a couple of deep breaths and daggers from my eyes, it made way into a desire to just walk away.

I talked to Froggie (a girl from Montreal on the finance team whose job I still don’t quite understand) during lunch, and she reassured me that she knew what VD was. For a minute I felt a smidge better about myself. Then she had to open up her big fucking mouth.

“But I only know about that because of South Park.”

This is the point where you picture me grinding my teeth to their nubs.

Anyhow thankfully I had a bevvy of work and stress to dilute this hatred running through my veins (including an Excel crash scare where a whole day’s worth of work almost went down the drain). The clock struck six, and everything seemed to be all right with the world.

Then I stepped out into the traffic quagmire that was West Los Angeles. It took me one hour, ONE HOUR, to go from the parking lot to the freeway. Then another hour to get home in San Pedro.

After all of that with my bladder aching to be released, I’m really hating this day.