Actual email I sent to a friend of mine yesterday:
Warning: May Contain Strong Language.
I saw you called. Sorry to say that I couldn't do a drink today because I'm a worthless, shiftless, no-talent, lazy, dumb fucking bitch of a meat-handed, retarded hack. I have shit for brains and bleach in the soul. I'm incapable of stringing together a sentence on a word processor, utterly undeserving of friendship, and could never actually please a real livewoman.I'm gong to torture myself doing shitty shitty work tonight. Maybe a drink or lunch or something later in the week? Wed or Friday? That's if I finally man up and actually get something done instead of being a talentless snivelling douchebag.
So there you go. There you go.
5 rumbles:
You write is like son of bitch. Ironical, yes?
(by the way, and I totally shit you not, my word verification on this comment was doucewad)
Self knowledge is the hallmark of a talented scribe.
My favourite coupling here was "snivelling douchebag" that in itself confirms you can write!
Thanks for this post. Some reality for us newbies.
I figured this was what you were hinting at last night. It just never gets any easier, does it?
There's a reason it took me ten years to come out of my shell: I knew exactly what I was in for.
People like Josh Olson don't scare me in the least. The only person I'm afraid of, is me.
People like you remind me why I'm doing this. From one lazy, dumb fucking bitch to another - thanks.
Oh, Denis, you're too hard on yourself. You're not lazy.
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