F8L
A plan so bad it makes a toddler’s nap time look impressive.
My dating life is an F8L. I’ve gone from ‘I love you’ to ‘I’m going to kill you.’
That road trip was an F8L. The car broke down. The GPS lied. My sanity took a nap.
Trying to explain my life choices to my mom is an F8L. She just stares at me like I’m a ghost.