The Daily Fckcabulary: 60 Seconds of Therapeutic Sarcasm

Fuckabout (FUCK-uh-bout) is administrative theater at its finest—the corporate ritual of turning a 10-minute decision into a 3-hour meeting where nothing gets resolved, but everyone gets to justify their salary.

It's the workplace equivalent of running on a treadmill while convincing yourself you're going somewhere.

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I'm Hawsé Sumi—Pittsburgh artist, two-time August Wilson House grant recipient, Paramount+ licensed crea...

Today's word: Fuckhistle (pronounced: fuck-WHY-sul). Noun. That high-pitched, passive-aggressive "eee-ooo-eee-ooo" your boss makes when you dare to stand up from your desk at 12:01 PM instead of waiting until 12:30 like a good little wage slave.

It's not a sound—it's a warning siren that translates to "How DARE you have basic human needs during MY productivity hours."

As in: "My fuckhistle went off when I walked to the break room, ...

Alright, check this out. It's December 31st, 11:59 PM. You're supposed to be celebrating.

Popping champagne. Making resolutions. But what are you really doing?

You're scrolling through your ex's Instagram, wondering where your tax return went, and realizing you're the exact same broken person you were 364 days ago—just older and broker. Your resolutions?

That was just a to-do list for your therapist. That's not a celebration. That...

"Alright, check this out. You ever notice 'holiday' is just 'holy' with a day attached?

That's cute. But let me tell you what it REALLY is: It's that mandatory event where you go broke buying presents for relatives who think you're going to hell, travel 600 miles to eat turkey that tastes like a carpet, and perform happiness while your uncle explains how the moon landing was faked.

That's not a celebration. That's a fuckoliday. An...

"Listen to me. You got this fat dude in a red suit. Breaks into your house. Eats your cookies. Judges your kids. Runs a sweatshop of midgets working for free.

We spend $400 to lie to our children about this trespasser and call it 'magic.' That's not Christmas spirit.

That's fuckanta. That's parental Stockholm syndrome with sleigh bells. And you know I'm right.

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I'm Hawsé Sumi—Pittsburgh artist, two-time August Wilso...

"Alright, check this out. You ever go to that relative's house for Christmas? You know the one.

They got that nativity scene set up, right? But it's not right. Baby Jesus is missing—kid probably got kidnapped by the dog.

Mary got a crack in her face that makes her look like she's seen some shit. And the manger? The manger looks like it's been through actual biblical times.

Then your drunk uncle comes through, knocks the whole thing...

"Alright, check this out. They call it 'yuletide'—sounds all fancy and British, like we should be wearing top hats and singing carols. But let me tell you what it REALLY is.

It's that special time between Halloween and New Year's where your credit card just... bursts into flames. Your liver sends you a formal complaint.

Your in-laws show up 'just for the weekend' and they're still there in February, reorganizing your kitchen at 6:4...

"Alright, check this out. You ever bite into one of them candy canes? First bite—CRACK. Now you got a broken tooth.

Second lick—SLICE. Now your tongue's bleeding like you bit a razor blade. And it tastes like your grandma's perfume collection from 1987. But the REAL peppermint?

That's the schnapps. That's the rocket fuel you need when your MAGA uncle is talking about 'the war on Christmas' like he's a Fox News anchor, your vegan c...

"Alright, listen to me. You ever been to that family dinner? I'm talking the one where your MAGA uncle just discovered memes from 2012 and thinks he's Warren Buffett?

Where your vegan cousin is giving the turkey a full Catholic funeral with hymns and everything?

Where your mom is asking why you're still single IN BETWEEN bites of green bean casserole like she's running a life audit and a taste test simultaneously?

You can't survive...

"Alright, listen to me. You ever been in Target? Of course you have. December rolls around, you're just trying to grab a PS5 for your nephew, and that song comes on.

You know the one. Mariah. Carey. 'All I Want for Christmas Is You.' First time? Cute. 47th time? I wanna commit a war crime at the self-checkout.

Meanwhile, Granny Bootsy over here has her cart parked like she's guarding the nuclear football. My phone's at 2%—2%!—and m...

"Alright, check THIS out. Your grandma gives you this ornament, right? Says it's 'priceless.' Says it survived forty years. FORTY. YEARS. It made it through Nixon, made it through wars, made it through your Uncle's second divorce—and probably a tornado. You put it on the tree, you step back, you admire it. You think, 'This is nice.'

Then Mittens—Mittens, who weighs nine pounds soaking wet—comes flying through like he's been shot ou...

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The tinsel that gets everywhere and reproduces in your carpet until July.

As in: "My vacuum coughed up fuckinsel from the Nixon administration.

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I'm Hawsé Sumi—Pittsburgh artist, two-time August Wilson House grant recipient, Paramount+ licensed creator, featured in international galleries and the author of the UnF🍸ckable Book Series.

For 365 days, I'm d...

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It's 11:47 PM at the office holiday party. The fuckletoe is hanging. Terry from accounting smells like mothballs and cheap whiskey.

Sharon from HR is cornering you. And somewhere, a plant is weaponized into a tool for 'mandatory fun.' Let's call this holiday tradition what it is: Fuckletoe

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I'm Hawsé Sumi—Pittsburgh artist, two-time August Wilson House g...

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Alright now, check this out. It's December 24th, 2:47 AM. You got tape stuck to your elbow, your scissors done vanished like your ex's commitment, and this bike—this goddamn bike—got instructions written in IKEA Swedish.

Your Christmas spirit? It's in that $6 bottle of wine, and that wine is almost empty. You didn't sign up for this. But you here. And we got a word for this special kind of...

"It's 4:47 PM. You're in therapy, finally feeling like you might be okay. Your phone buzzes. It's your landlord: 'Rent's due.' Your ex just liked a photo from 2019. Your mom is calling. You haven't eaten since yesterday. The universe is playing its favorite game: 'Let's see if they break.' Let's call this perfectly timed chaos what it is: Fuckstances.

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I'm Hawsé Sumi—Pittsburgh artist, two-time August Wilson House grant...

It's Thanksgiving. Your MAGA-hat uncle just discovered a 2012 meme that "explains the economy." Your vegan cousin is performing a funeral for the turkey. Your mom just asked why you're still single. And you're three glasses of wine deep, smiling through clenched teeth, earning the only trophy that matters. Let's call this family dinner survival award what it is: Fucktrophe

I'm Hawsé Sumi—Pittsburgh artist, two-time August Wilson Ho...

"It's 4:55 PM on a Tuesday. You finally fixed the car. You paid off one credit card. You think you're winning. Then your ex texts 'hey,' your boss schedules a 'quick sync,' your phone buzzes with a student loan reminder, and your problems start playing the world's saddest song on an instrument nobody asked for. Let's call this chaotic symphony what it is: Fuckordion.

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