Fuck You, Phoebe

“Hey guys, look!  It’s Phoebe!  Boy I hope her plot line takes over this episode.”

Is this something you’ve ever heard said?  Out loud?  If the answer is yes, you must be Phoebe Buffay.

You’re probably wearing a tie-dye thermal with lightwash overalls, pig tails, a strange green jacket, a weird necklace, and middle aged woman “arty” shoes.

You’re probably “quirky” “eccentric” “weird” “silly” “fun-loving” and “outlandish”.

You’re probably even holding a guitar and singing everyone’s favorite Central Perk open mic tune, “Smelly Cat.”

And lastly, you’re probably the most irritating B-character I’ve ever had the displeasure of looking at/listening to.  WHO ARE YOU, FEMALE JOEY?  You’ve got some crazy disjointed episodes about your twin, (who is obviously just fucking you so why are we suspending disbelief for a fucking second), some romance with Giovanni Ribisi (is he your brother or boyfriend? I don’t…), and some license to talk/interact with the more popular Friends that actually have lives, jobs, and sense of logic.

Maybe they feel bad for you.  Maybe they find your idiosycracies charming.

Or maybe, like me, they’d just wish you’d pack your macramé bag, grab your baby no one remembers, and get the fuck off television.

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