I don’t need no stinkin’ career

September 4, 2001

you know you’ve been working too hard when you can say one of the following phrases without arching an eyebrow:

“so, make all snips snippet.”

“we need to find out the difference between link and links.”

“we should just spell it out. nobody knows what woc is.”

this morning, i woke up from a crappy dream and sat through crappy traffic and had a crappy meeting and all i could write in the margins of my notebook was “crappy CRAPPY C R A P P Y.” sometimes, you just wake up that way and all you can do is wade through the day, knee-deep in sludge, until it’s over. (and muttering, “i hate you, i hate you, i hate you,” to tuesday doesn’t help the day go any faster. i tried.)

i feel like i peeled off the sticker of my mcdonald’s waxy paper cup and failed, yet again, to win: “i’m sorry, please try again.” and what do you do when you hold that little slip of paper in your hand? toss it on the tray, dump the tray’s contents in the trash and vow never to eat there again, because the chicken mcnuggets only seem like a good idea.


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    I take photos. Lots of photos.
    I wish on stars and on websites.

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    I launched, then relaunched, an online magazine.
    I admitted to several embarrassing crushes.
    I consumed more bacon than any human should and lived to tell the tales.

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