Magical land of Not Gonna Happen

I think this has to be filed under “I’m not as stupid as I look – that whole internet thing notwithstanding”.

Please do not ask, O Stumblers Across My Blog, for me to write articles for you gratis.  I don’t do causes.  I have probably never heard of your nascent sex workers union, feminist hookers e-zine or “pussy empowerment” blog, rube that I am.

Soliciting me to write an article for you which, if it is good enough to be selected out of the other submissions, will be read aloud at some meeting I have also never heard of and posted to your blog/newsletter/e-zine is not going to make me jump for joy at the golden opportunity.  Noting that any article thus submitted will become your intellectual property will, frankly, make me laugh at you.

True story.  The person described above also noted that I was a writer, and they were happily anticipating much better work than the examples they normally received.  I like to think that would likely have been true, but it probably ought to be pointed out that when you get something professional one ought to expect it will require compensation correspondingly higher than that acceptable to amateurs.

Sheesh.  Do you think they realize they’ve turned themselves into those hobbyists who want a discount because they’re nice old retirees on a fixed income/are broke until payday/are kindly offering the new girl a great review from a “famous” hobbyist in exchange for the appointment?  

There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.

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Published in: on June 23, 2010 at 10:20 am  Comments (5)  

Panties!

Seriously, what is the deal with this woman?  (That would be Lady Gaga.)  I mean, check out the video.  Definitely smokin’  body – my rack trumps hers any day of the week but I’d kill to look so good in bra and panties.  And yet – mind you, I am not one to judge, but there are limits – even if I did look so tasty in bra and panties, I am pretty certain I would wear something on top of them… say, clothes… to a ballgame.

Nuts.  F’ing nuts.  Or on drugs, whichever.  Gawd, is someone dating this chick?  Because the sex is probably just raw as hell but she seems like one of those batshit insane types who would talk about blowjobs and how sexy blood is when meeting your mother.

Published in: on June 22, 2010 at 10:02 pm  Comments (1)  

Aaaaauuugh!

Heya guys!  How’s it going?  Doing good?  Awesome.  Miss me?  I sure as hell missed you. 

Let me just get this out of the way real quick-like:  I have, for some unfathomable reason, beome addicted to Lady Gaga’s ‘Bad Romance’.  WTH?  I hate pop music.  Lady Gaga’s a f’ing freeeeeek (hair donuts, triple-stack platforms hooves instead of – oh, I dunno – shoes, and I don’t think she’s worn pants since 2006).  But this shit’s kind of… catchy.  I’m a sucker for a beat.

If you ever catch me playing “Poker Face” on my phone though, do me a favor and shoot me.  Savvy?

And it took less than 48 hours for me to repress the urge to reach through the computer and throttle the shit out of some hobbyist over screening.  I think it’s the cumulative effect that really does it.  It’s not ONE guy sending an email that just makes you say, “Oh, sweetheart, no.” 

No, what really inspires that overwhelming urge to scream with rage and KEYBOARD SMASH is when you check your morning emails and find all of this, in order –

– A lady for whose reference you waited two days, and got back, “Yeah, he’s fine.”

– A fellow who you’ve been screening for two days and once his references have come back,  decides only now to let you know he expects a 30 minute appointment when you don’t offer 30 minute appointments.

– An appointment request consisting of nothing but the single, lonesome sentence stating they’d like to see me this very morning, with one reference (name only).

I love y’all to bits, my little chickadees, really I do.  You know those ads/websites where the lady has that long list of “I don’t do this, or this, or this, and you have to have this and that and the other” that so many of you don’t like?  This is why.  And since we’re dealing with the public, which is notorious for being thick-headed, half of them don’t listen to the directions anyhow.

I have to know what your references call you.  It doesn’t have to be your real name – if the ladies call you Tom when your name is really Frank, or if they actually do call you ILuvBoobs – it just has to be whatever you are known by to your references. 

I need to know whatever contact info you used to reach them.  Some gals file guys by cell phone number, some by final four of the cell phone, some by email.  (Myself, I can simply remember stuff, but then I don’t see many fellows so it’s fairly easy to keep them all straight.)  This isn’t some super-sekrit file we all plan on turning over to the FBI, it’s merely the fastest way to narrow down which of four Jims we know is the one asking for the reference. 

Two references, minimum.  This is not optional.  For preference, send me six.  I have never waited for each and every reference to get back to me – two is all I truly need – but when time is pressing and you want an appointment soon, having messages out to lots of ladies means I can take the first two who happen to be quickest on checking their emails.

I haaaaate screening.

Published in: on June 15, 2010 at 8:15 am  Comments (1)  

Les excitement

This has not been a fun week.

I got in a car wreck.  Not my fault, I wasn’t even the one driving.  People can’t drive for shit these days.  (Trufax.  There was an article a few weeks ago about a study showing some 10% of the population wouldn’t be able to pass their driver’s exams if they had to take them again.)

Am slightly injured but not terribly so.  A small gash in what can be called an tender area, some bruising.  No worries.

Published in: on June 9, 2010 at 2:12 pm  Leave a Comment