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I have trouble with etymology and entomology.
I can never find the right word and it really bugs me.
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I see ‘fuck’ as an uncountable noun, like oil or evanescence, so I lean towards “fuck’s”.
Le plus que tu sais…
This one is tough for me. Of course it’s “for fuck’s sake,” but we need to recognize that FUCK in many cases, including this one, is an expletive first and foremost – even though for grammar’s sake we mostly treat it as a noun instead of the verb it once was, a noun whether nominative or participial or gerundive. In my lifetime it’s become such a common substitute for DAMN, and “fucking” a substitute for “damned,” as to become a virtual noun here (even though it’s not a fuck in the normative sense of coitus AT ALL. In the words of my Boy Scout Scoutmaster, it should be used judiciously – even sparingly – lest it demonstrate a paucity of vocabulary and make the speaker sound like an uncultured yokel.
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I literally grokked that shiznit!
How frumious of you.
You just zeroed out muh mostel!
(Sorry , sorry, blame it on the blinding sunset, pic available on request)
Requested
A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.
A bar was walked into by the passive voice.
An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.
Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”
A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.
Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.
A question mark walks into a bar?
A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Get out – we don’t serve your type.”
A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.
A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.
A synonym strolls into a tavern.
At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar – fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.
Falling slowly, slowly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.
A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.
An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.
The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.
A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.
The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.
A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.
An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars.
A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.
A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.
A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony.
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