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Back when I was living in Columbus, Ohio my friends and I started a quote wall. Whenever a bit of brilliance (or otherwise) poured out of someone’s mouth, somebody would yell “Quote!” thus nominating it for Quote Board status. The quote then had to be seconded by someone (it almost always was), and then it would be written down to be forever immortalized on the Quote Board.
This is the modern-day equivalent of that classic piece of my past.
QUOTE BOARD:
“I don’t need my sausages!”
– Grey, 7/16/20
She didn’t,
…for taking some time out of the pandemic to watch Vendetta with me.
I’m pretty sure it was only the second time I’ve watched it all the way through (we showed up ten minutes late when it played in theaters), so it was nice to be able to watch it with friends… and then collectively make fun of it with them.
I give it two and a half stars,
Still not big on the design, but happy to see it represented in this way.
Now where’s that Phife Dawg stamp,
…partly because I’ve been reserving tickets to his rallies (which I have no intention of ever attending… and I highly encourage you to do the same), but also because I’ve been using these texts as a sort of therapy to express what I’m really feeling toward him and his garbage family.
Of course, their texts are automated, but my replies still give me a smile. And honestly, we need as many smiles as we can get these days.
So here I share with you a recent back-and-forth correspondence I had with the Trump campaign. And by “back-and-forth correspondence” I mean “a text conversation between me and a racist robot.”
I’m definitely on a list somewhere,
…I worked the last day of the only “real” post-college job I ever held.
I’ve written about this before (most recently back in 2010, when I had my ten-year anniversary), but the short of it is that I was miserable working at a publication in Columbus, Ohio called The Other Paper.
Over the course of the thirteen months I worked there, I saved up a grand (which, considering I was only making $16,000 a year, was a huge feat). I figured that was enough to pay all of my rent, bills, and groceries for three months if I played it smart. Of course, that seems insane now, but back then, and with three roommates to help split up the cost of living, it was doable.
When my dip-shit employer (the feelings were mutual, we both hated each other) sarcastically and tongue-in-cheek asked what greener pastures I was moving on to, I told them nowhere. Instead, I offered them a fabricated story of how my grandmother had passed away a few months earlier, that her will had just settled, and that she left me a little over a million dollars. And so my plan was quite literally to do nothing for the rest of my life, and then live off the interest.
The looks of stunned silence and appalled shock on their faces is something that, to this day, sticks with me.
It’s no secret that I hated both my job and The Other Paper. (For example, I used to write the paper hate mail, which they would then tape up in the editor’s window for the staff to read.) Still, I never realized just how miserable I was until the employees were asked to take a staff photo together. In addition to me looking ridiculous (with bleached hair shooting out of the top of a Subway visor), I also look like I am trapped in hell. I was. And it was this realization, the look on my face in that one photo, that kicked me in the ass to come up with an exit plan.
For twenty-years, I’ve kept that photo in my desk as a reminder to keep hustling.
What started with a thousand dollars and a three-month goal has now somehow turned into a twenty-year freelance career that has included photography, journalism, web design, publishing, and film/television writing and producing. And what an insane journey it’s been.
If you had told me on July 14th, 2000 where I would be on July 14th, 2020, I would’ve said: “DONALD TRUMP IS PRESIDENT? AND WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC? WHAT THE FUCK?!?”
But also: “Cool. I’m pretty proud of that future older/balder/fatter me.”
Happy anniversary to me,
PS: The Other Paper folded in 2013. I win.
The Blarg 