July This or Fucking That

The Queen Dies

The month my Medium overlord tried to break me with the bonus question from hell.

Wait until a child spews all over you, Deanna. Photo by mali desha on Unsplash

My queen is not so fucking beloved this month. Deanna Bugalski 💋 has posed some fucking doozies. It’s good to have her This or Fucking That back.

If you want to subject yourself to her evil shenanigans, here is how:

[embed]AFP’s July This or Fucking That Queen Dee is back, behind this month’s pointless questions!medium.com

July’s This or Fucking That Questionnaire

1. Would you rather spend 24 hours stuck at an airport or 24 hours stuck on a cruise ship during the roughest fucking seas?

I fucking hate airports. The longest I’ve ever been stuck at one was ten gruelling hours. That was after partying hard the night before and trying to survive on three hours of sleep. One airline staff member was on a nasty little power trip, unloading and reloading us onto the plane. There is always one of them at every airport.

But a cruise? No fucking way.

I spent 24 hours on a ferry back from France in rough seas with fifty elementary school children. I had sailed through many a storm in my life without swallowing a drop of vomit. But then, one of those little fuckers projectiled all over me. She broke my “spew-seal.” Now, I can’t look at choppy water without gagging. Plus, I just finished watching that Costa Concordia documentary on Netflix.

Keep me on dry land.

I’ll take the airport and people-watch those power-trippy assholes.

2. Would you rather be forced to relive Year 9 or your worst fucking full-time job?

I don’t know what “Year 9” is. But whatever age it was, I was fucking thrilled when I left school. I didn’t hate it, but I could not for the life of me understand why all the asshats around me were sobbing at our graduation ceremony.

That said, there is no way on this fucking planet that I am going back to my worst full-time job. I’d gladly swap that purgatory for school-desk doodling.

I’ll go back to school, doodle in my A4 pad, and write stories in the back of the class, like I did back then.

3. Would you rather have to attend every family function or every fucking work social event?

Is my step-family at these functions? Because if so, that is a high volume of drama and a lot of family. Work socials might be painful, but they have an end time and a budget limit.

Fuck it, work socials. There are fewer of them.

4. Would you rather spend a week trapped on a cruise ship with a group of people you normally actively fucking avoid or a week trapped at a wellness retreat with life coaches everywhere you turn?

After that aforementioned Costa Concordia documentary and news reports of people dying of horrific gastrointestinal viruses on board ships, you couldn’t pay me to step onto a cruise ship. I’ll take my chances dodging life coaches who want to align my chakras.

I’ll take the wellness retreat and hope The Universe makes it a silent one

5. Would you rather have your most embarrassing childhood story become a Netflix documentary or your worst drunk moment become a fucking viral TikTok or Instagram Reel?

Back in my wilder partying days, people told me I should take up drinking again when I stopped, because drunk me was fun.

I still wouldn’t want my worst drunken moment to go viral for millions of strangers to mock. I don’t have embarrassing childhood memories, except for the occasional habit of pissing myself laughing. Netflix can have that.

Let them do a documentary about my once-loose bladder.

6. Would you rather get food poisoning on day one of your holiday or sunburn so fucking badly you can’t sit down for a week?

I have a stomach of iron (ferries excepted). Food poisoning lasts about 48 hours. Leave me in the hotel room with a box of dry crackers, a flat 7Up, and a bucket. I’d rather get that over with than waste half the holiday suffering indoors.

Food poisoning.

7. Would you rather discover your family has a secret second family or find out you’re the fucking family secret?

I couldn’t give a witch’s tit. I’ve done the genealogy research. My great-great-grandfather emigrated and left a wife and at least one son behind. There is no record of a marriage certificate between him and my great-great-grandmother, although they went on to have eight children. We are the secret second family.

I wouldn’t want to suddenly discover a secret sibling today, because that would mean my parents had lied to me about their monogamy.

I prefer to be the family secret.

8. Would you rather only ever travel to places you’ve already visited or only visit places considered the ultimate most fucking dangerous to travel to?

My limit is a rollercoaster or a mild scuba dive. I can barely tie my fucking shoelaces, so I am sure as fuck not going to survive a war zone or an extreme wilderness expedition. If I have to cross Australia and South America off my fucket list, so be it.

See you in LA, Royal Court, after the Emperor is dead.

I am too fucking long in the tooth for danger.

9. Would you rather be stuck in a supermarket queue behind some fucker arguing over a 20-cent discount or behind some major fuckwit who’s trying to get a refund for 400 lottery tickets?

I can easily out-argue the cheapskate. By the time I’m done whining loudly behind them, they’ll take their 20-cent grievance to the customer service desk and get the fuck out of my way, because as you know from my Netflix documentary, I don’t embarrass easily.

The lottery ticket person is usually some doddery, sweet eejit who doesn’t realise you can scan those bloody things online. This queue is their social outing of the month. It’d be like hitting a toddler to harry them along. I’ll take the fight I can win.

Give me the 20-cent Scrooge.

10. Would you rather be trapped on a long-haul flight beside someone who won’t stop fucking talking or someone who takes both fucking armrests and falls asleep on you?

I have one fucking word: Headphones.

I have been stuck next to the asshole who hogged both armrests, encroached into my legroom, and fell asleep on me, while the person in front of me tilted their seat all the way back for an eleven-hour flight. It is the only time I have felt truly murderous.

Is your prick really so exceptionally large that you have to manspread into my space, nudge me in the boobs, AND sleep on my fucking shoulder?

Chat away, Cathy. I’m putting my noise-cancelling headphones on and watching the movie.

Bonus Conundrum — What the fuck would you do?

You wake up one day with the scary ability to look at anyone and know exactly how they will die, but also the exact date they will die. You can’t turn it off, and you can’t unhear it. As you go about your life, you discover that all your premonitions are perfectly spot on.

What the fuck would you do with this gift/curse?

Just for asking this, I would send a daily message to Her Royal Highness reminding her of the exact date and nature of her impending demise.

…Unless this curse also comes with the power to see the winning lottery numbers. In that case, I wouldn’t mind waiting behind the 400-ticket eejit in the supermarket queue, and I’d leave Dee alone. I bet there’s an island I could buy with the winnings where I could live alone.

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