A radio producer in NYC (no joke) wants to do a radio interview with me about a writing project I worked on for them, but they never once mentioned money. If you’re not a friend I’m helping out, well, money talks or else Miss Rainbow walks.

“I feel like I’m gaining weight like a mother fucker,” I said to Tom after returning home sweaty and panting, “but it was a damn good run anyway.”

“Mother fuckers must be really talented,” said Tom. “After all, you say you’re as tired as a mother fucker, bloated as a mother fucker, pissed as a mother fucker, happy as a mother fucker, hungry as a mother fucker, writing like a mother fucker, learning languages like a mother fucker… mother fuckers must be pretty amazing.”

After I burst out laughing it was his turn to let out a burst of laughter once he took a look at our Macs. I told him that after reading the book I was reading I’d taken the precautionary measures of taping our webcams in case they ever got hacked. He said, “You can’t use scotch tape, sweetie. It’s clear.”

So he took it upon himself to cover them with orange duct tape. :)

Finally got fed up enough to kick Sarah off my feed. I’m sick of her posting the same old shit, particularly about her asshole father and God.