Hey there big boy. Some folks got weight problems, and that is not their fault. Try as they may, they can’t win the battle of the bulge. That is not you. From that battle, you have clearly beat a hasty retreat into the magical land of beer and booze and bologna. It’s not that you’re fat that makes you AntiFuck, it’s that you are clearly just fine with that fact.
Masturbatory Karaoke AntiFuck
We see you there in the corner of the school gym, mic in hand, loudly, shamelessly getting every song you sing just a bit wrong. Sure, you’ve ignored every request to turn it down, or, even better, stop. Sure you won’t even let any of the kids sing. Sure, no one asked for, or, for that matter, wanted karaoke here tonight. Sure, you didn’t even spring fo the good karaoke versions, forcing us to listen to countless excessively shrill versions of already unpleasant pop songs. Sure, everyone loves karaoke. No one loves it more though than a tubby guy in socks and sandals who owns all his own karaoke gear, and whips it all out without even the slightest bit of provocation. Thank you, masturbatory karaoke guy, for not even knowing the words to Piano Man, no matter how obviously rehearsed your rendition is.
Pedestrian Mall Goth AntiFuck
We get it. You are edgy. Mom and Dad are assholes. Points tho for the Antoine.
Technically, couples mean sex. But couples that in the middle of a weekday have reached such a level of mutual “comfort” (read: malaise) that they are content to stroll together down a major metropolitan thoroughfare each wearing their own version of vulgar, shapeless, sweatpants are definitely not having sex. And no one is looking to have sex with them either. We suppose there might something sweet in the knowledge that these sweat pants wearing dropouts from sexuality have found one another, but all we see is the unflattering athletic gear that will seldom be used for anything but slow waddles to the corner for fro-yo.
*SPECIAL BONUS ANTIFUCK: Way to accessorize! The scarf TOTALLY distracts from the bottom half of your body. You go girl.
Notice Me AntiFuck
We know that you are a special, unique individual, despite your cookie cutter corporate job. Believe us, if we couldn’t tell just by entering your presence, your novelty-sized headphones, ironic-chunky elvis sunglasses and personality-colored socks make it more than evident that you aren’t just another workaday drone. Oh, we know that you are one of those brave souls capable of venturing downtown to find your nearest Urban Outfitters. But just in case, you better keep sitting on those library steps at lunchtime so all the passers-by can observe as you soak up some sweet sweet knowledge.
What is it about not looking good naked that makes certain people think that others will want to see them almost naked? Burlesquers of the world, here’s a lifestyle protip: the only people in the audience at your non-paying tuesday night “show” that aren’t watching you awkwardly remove second rate sex shop discards to some obscure 1960s French pop song are the other burlesquers you have guilted into watching you so you will be committed to watch them in return. Burlesque is categorically an Anti-Fuck.
Out of your league AntiFuck.
My man, we suggest you get off the street and hit that with some alacrity, because sooner or later (our money is definitely on sooner), that fine chia-pet-haired freaky lady is going to realize that you are one serious AntiFuck.
Sure, your yoga pants and jumper don’t look that bad on you, and at least you aren’t fugly… But when clothes that are in fact named after a sort of physical exercise show no signs at all of having ever been involved in any sort of physical activity, and when have in fact been appropriated as a live-in, go anywhere, I’m going to the city for my big friday night out outfit, that is dead unsexy. The AntiFuck is just that much more tragic when it didn’t have to happen...
Team building exercise AntiFuck.
Broke pseudo-intellectual hipster student Anti-Fuck.