Dear Campus Internet,
Look, I promise not to READ that porn I wrote last night. I just want to answer the awesome comments people left for me. They made my Monday so much better, Campus Internet; I just want to say thanks, NO PORN INVOLVED. If I decide to read the porn, I will pull up the copy I saved on my hard drive. Or, you know, REMEMBER WRITING IT.
Now you're hungry? Now? We drove past 15 decent places to get food on the way here and you were all "No, no no, don't even think about it, that is a horrifyingly bad idea." Now my options are cafeteria food and vending machine fare, so you are just going to have to wait.
I hope this teaches you a lesson about the consequences of being a whiny bitch.
This is indeed what my middle finger looks like,
I cannot tell you how irritating I find it that you make attendance for this class compulsory when ALL YOU DO is read the online book notes word for fucking word. So no, I don't feel guilty about using your class to read and write fanfiction. In fact, it is your fault.
Try some original content,
Dear Sherlock Holmes,
WOW, YOU REALLY MAKE A MESS OF THINGS WHEN YOU MOVE INTO SOMEONE'S BRAIN, DON'T YOU. It's pretty adorable, actually. Don't stop.
I love you allllmost as much as Watson does,
Dear Robert Downey Jr., Jude Law, and niagarawoman
Okay, guys. I work at a law office. At law offices, there are documents called requests for proposal, abbreviated to RFPs. Today, I was told that I get the lovely task of editing, reformatting and processing an entire host of these things. This in and of itself is not a problem; I am more than happy to do the job for which they pay me.
NO, THE PROBLEM IS HOW MANY QUESTIONS I ASKED MY BOSSES TODAY ABOUT RPF
BY MISTAKE. Thank god they don't know what that means; I nearly died of embarrassment the first time and then COULD NOT STOP DOING IT. ARGH.
...But reading that story was still totally worth it,