Showing posts with label freelance writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freelance writing. Show all posts

You're fat and I know it. Click the damn link.

In case you heifers haven't noticed, there's something different about my blog.  Over there in that right sidebar are new advertisements.  Momma's trying to make some money, y'all.  Hubber's about to kick my ass to the curb if some of my writing projects don't start making money.  Go click on some of that shit.  I know some of you heifers must need to lose some weight... or build a website... or buy a domain... or stock up on sex toys... or some similar shit like that.

C'mon... I know you're fat.  You need a how-to-lose-weight plan, right?  Go click on that shit and buy a guide or some supplements or whatever.  Thank you. And, you're welcome.

Are "Escorts" Just "Prostitutes" in Disguise?

I've been busy, y'all.  Those who know me personally know that although I'm a struggling writer, I'm also a gainfully employed (on a part-time basis) heifer who collects a steady pay check in spite of her bitchy attitude and poor interpersonal skills (maybe that's why they've banned me from the office unless there's a staff meeting).  But, the gravy train is running on empty.  At the end of the year, after fifteen years, they're giving me the boot.  Right in the ass.

So, I've been spending the last couple of months trying to figure out what the fuck I can do to make the same amount of money without going back to work in an office full time.  Freelance writing doesn't pay shit, y'all.  (Just sayin'... in case it wasn't obvious.)  Aside from prostitution, diaper changing or serving as a drug mule, I'm pretty much open to anything.  Running an escort service would be awesome... but then I'd be a pimp and probably end up in jail.  I'm too damn cute for jail.

Anyway... I've been dabbling in some genius-ass stuff, y'all.  If it all works out, I'll fill you guys in on it.  Until then, we'll be munching on Ramen Noodles, Lone Star beer and generic peanut butter in a mobile home park that smells like piss.  Feel free to send us some charity.

My spawns get tired of me complaining about our lack of money.  The youngest spawn has even VOWED to never find herself in my pitiful situation when she's an adult....

Spawn:  I'm going to have lots of money when I'm grown up!  I'm going to be able to buy everything I want all the time!

Me:  That would be awesome.  You could even buy me a bunch of stuff.

Spawn: Yeah!  I'm going to marry a billionaire.

Me: Huh?

Spawn: Billionaires have a hundred bazillion dollars.  They never run out of money.  That's the kind of husband I'm gonna need to get me all the stuff I want.  And, I won't ever have to tell MY kids that they can't have all the awesome stuff THEY want.

Me: Sounds like a plan!  But I would rather YOU were the rich one... go to college and become some great, fancy doctor or something.

Spawn:  Oh, I'll be rich, too... but I'll save all my money in case my husband dies.

Me: Nice.  Well, it's good to have goals.

I have raised that heifer well.  My work here is done.

Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!

I've been celebrating all week! Celebrating the fact that my kids are finally back at school.  It was the longest fucking summer break in history; and I survived!  That shit was cause for celebration.  There were many times during the past couple of months that I thought I was fixenta lose my shit, y'all.  Once, when my medication reached it's maximum threshold for patience, I had to lock myself up in the closet under the stairs (like Harry Potter) to cry my ass off. If the NFL Pre-Season hadn't started when it did, I'm pretty sure I'd have flipped my lid and gone homicidal up in here. Those football booties saved some fucking lives.  I'm really not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

I guess it's good because I didn't end up in jail.  I'm too cute for jail.

So now, my life is "back to normal"... meaning I'm back to regular "work" hours.  I've taken on a few new projects which I hope prove to be lucrative; but in the meantime, I'm still writing boring-ass bullshit for idiots who think they're smarter than I am. I'm also still working part-time for "the man".  But... AT LEAST MY KIDS ARE BACK IN SCHOOL!  I thank the 6lb 8oz baby Geezus for that shit every day.

Did I mention that football season has started?

Don't move, Honey, I'll be right there!!

Spring Break 2012: Day 5

The natives started getting restless on Day 5, so we drove them up to the mountains in search of snow.  The entire state of Colorado has been blaming Texans for bringing record high temps with them from Texas on Spring Break.  We were bound and determined to prove to those bastages that it wasn’t our fault by finding a patch of snow and playing in that shit. 
So, up we drove; but alas, to no avail.

Sledding on a two-foot patch of slush wasn’t as fun as it promised to be swimming around in my head.  Also, it was mostly yellow and I vaguely remember my mother warning me about yellow snow.  Instead of taking chances with our health, we stopped for lunch.

...and beverages.
Now, we’re on our way home.  We’re going a different route this time… We just survived the Raton Pass between Colorado and New Mexico.  The Winnie took it like a champ uphill at 35 mph (on a 75 mph speed limit).  I’ll never ever curse large, slow moving vehicles again.  From now on, I’ll just politely go around those bitches and flash the peace sign at ‘em.  And, maybe a boob (if they’re lucky and I’m feeling frisky).

Sex Toys Are Your Friends (and mine)

All Stand and APPLAUD, Damnit!

It's a proud moment in Snarky Heifer-ville, y'all.  Momma got her first advertiser!  That's right!  Someone is actually PAYING money for a slot on my website! CHA-CHING!  I didn't even have to turn a trick; which makes Hubber a happy camper.

Nevermind that my advertiser sells adult toys.  They're still legit (because the check didn't bounce)... and cool as shit in my book. At first, I was tempted to trade them some ad space for loot.  But then I realized that my cupboard is bare and my peeps need milk and eggs before Hubber needs a blow up doll.  So, I opted for the cash.  Smart, huh?

Another good thing about my newly acquired [best] friends is that I've learned a lot more than I ever thought possible about the adult toy businesses.  There are contraptions for everything, y'all.  Turns out, I don't know shit about kinky sex.

For example, what do you think THIS is?:

No, it is not an attachment for your kitchen blender.

It is a vaginal/anal bi-polar ElectraProbe.  And, if that isn't snazzy enough for you... you POWER it up with one of these things:

I'm dead serious about this shit.  Kinda scary, if you ask me.  Pretty sure I don't want anything inside my hoo-ha that uses electro-thingamajigs in order to operate.  With my luck, my goodies would turn toxic and Hubber's dingaling would fall off in two months. Eeek!

But, wait!  Don't let that stop you from visiting my advertiser's lovely store!  They sell a bunch of normal shit, too.  I promise!  Go check them out:

I laugh in the face of stupid writing!

For today's blog, let us take a look at a few online ads for writing gigs. We'll start with this one:

I don't need time wasters, either, honey!  And, you just wasted MY time with this jacked-up ad.  What the fuck is "mix words"?  And why do you assume everyone reading your piece of shit ad is a GUY?  And what's with your requirement for "perfect English"?  YOU are going to judge MY English?  I don't think so.  Also, you're a jackass for thinking that $0.01/word is an excellent rate.  ONE CENT. This ain't the Phillipines!

Moving right along, let's check out this one:

I have a problem with every other fucking word in this ad. What you need is SOME writer to proofread your ads before posting.  Research thinks?  Huh?

"Please let me know with the starting work as "SEVEN"." Uhm. WTF are you talking about?  So far, 14 people have bid under budget on this job.  I am shocked.

Finally, there's this one:

This person likes UNIQUE stuff, that's for sure.  What IS a unique, original writer?  Aren't we ALL unique and original?  I ain't writing 1 page for this weirdo, much less 10.  He/she is probably the dope fiend that got Roger Clemens in trouble.  No thanks.  I have a reputation to uphold, people.

******************* update**************************
You heifers need to quit pointing out the fact that I didn't proofread this entry before posting it!  You can all suck my left tit! Bitches. 

Top 5 List of Stupid Things I've Done That I'm Not Even Remotely Sorry For....

5. Spawn two children. Although my fat rolls and stretch marks would probably beg to differ, I am not sorry in the least.  It was a stupid and crazy thing to do, I know, but deep down, I really love these little heifers.  Plus, who else can I boss around when I'm too lazy to fetch my own glass of water (yes, WATER) or wash my dishes... or paint my toenails?

4. Get married.  Who else would take out the trash, do my yard, clean my pool, eat my taco, stomp on bugs and change the oil in my car?  Not to mention that I have someone who actually signed on to listen to my rants and raves till death do us part.  Hubber does all these things with no hesitation.  Well.  Maybe he hesitates a little.  Nah... he loves being my beck-and-call-boy.

3. Perm my hair. Yes, I know it's not 1985 and that perm chemicals will dry my shit out, so STFU.  Momma loves her some curls.  They're loose and bouncy... just like Hubber likes his women.

2. Adopt a really large dog.  Part mastiff, part boxer?  SURE, I'll take her!  Her poop piles are the size of cow patties; but I don't care!  I call it fertilizer. Also, she eats 60lbs of food every month?  So?  No problemo, I say!  I can buy that shit at Sam's for $30.

1. Exchanged my full-time, good-paying job for a part-time gig with crappy pay.  Who cares if I have to pimp people out on the side for money?  Not me!  I get to stay home and "work", bitches!  Also, I get to spy on the neighbors and make up stories about their comings and goings.  I've already pegged the pedophiles, swingers and drug dealers.  Which reminds me, I need a new pair of binoculars. And, a bb-gun.
I've got my eye on all you beeeyotches!

Don't worry... we didn't sell his testicles.

I decided to go "minimalist" in my house by getting rid of all the unnecessary crap we don't really need. And what better way to unload my crap than by having a garage sale?  My trash is YOUR treasure!  That's my motto for this weekend.  Nevermind that this decision was another masked attempt at supplementing my shameful income.  And speaking of shame... one thing I am not ashamed to do is exploit my children for cash.  I planted those two little heifers at the end of the driveway with a lemonade/popcorn stand; looking all cute an inviting.  It's a shame my girls aren't old enough to be "hooters girls", otherwise, I would have had them out there prancing around wearing next to nothing and washing cars!  This was the best I could do:
The little one dressed herself.

...and it worked like a charm!  We raked in enough cash to start working on our bathroom remodel!  And, the girls even raised $50 selling lemonade!  Not too bad for one day!  I mean, it ain't gonna send them to college, but it'll pay for all the Halloween crap they've been asking for. (Please don't tell them I snagged a twenty out of their tip jar for a bottle of booze.)

I also make a killing off of stuff Hubber doesn't need anymore.  He was a little pissed at first because he's so attached to his crap, but he got over it.  Mostly.

Hubber's Quote of the Day: "Do you wanna sell my testicles, too?!  We can put the left one on the 50-cent table!"

Also, purses are always a big hit at garage sales.  I unloaded about 20 of my old bags!  Hubber was so concerned that I was getting rid of too much...

Hubber: You're getting rid of all these purses?  Do you even have any left?

Me: I kept about five.

Hubber: Wow.  I'm shocked.

Me: Now I have tons of room for new handbags!

Hubber: Oh.  Now, THAT makes perfect sense *shaking his head*

It's taking every ounce of willpower I have in me not to swipe $100 out of the bathroom remodel money for new handbags.

Why the fuck am I working today?

The mail ain't running today... the kids are off of school... the bank is closed... and everyone's trash will be stinking to high heaven at the curb until tomorrow.  All because it's Columbus Day. Big fucking deal!  We don't celebrate this "holiday" in my house because Columbus could not have actually DISCOVERED a place that had already been discovered.  HELLO? THERE WERE ALREADY PEOPLE HERE!  It's one of the dumbest national holidays.... right up there with MLK day. Don't get me started, people.

So, anyway... here I am working and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.  I should be plastered in front of the TV like my kids are... or snuggled under the covers in bed with a trashy novel.  Or, better yet, I should observe "Columbus Day" in the proper, most common-sensical way by barging into someone else's house and claiming it as my own.  Where can I find some vials of small pox?

But, sadly, I'm not doing any of that fun stuff.  I'm working.  I've got deadlines to meet today; shit to write and asses to chew on.  I'm sure that halfway through the day, I'll decide I've had enough bullshit and pour myself an adult beverage and chillax a little.  And, when 3:00pm rolls around and I decide to go out and check the mail because I've forgotten it's a damn holiday, I'll be pissed off all over again because my Netflix delivery won't be there.  Christopher Columbus was an asshole.

Ridiculous Shit I Write About for Money

There is no shortage of website content writing projects available out there these days.  What with all the "search engine optimization" and blogging, I've got clients coming out the yin-yang.  The only issue I usually have is related to the subject matter.  You never know what kind of nonsense you're going to run into in this business.

Sometimes I write for doctors...which requires lots of research and fact-checking.... because, in case y'all haven't noticed, I am not a doctor.  I will say, though, that doctors suck at writing.  And, spelling. OMG.  I thought I sucked at spelling. How the hell did these people make it through all those years of schooling without knowing how to spell or put a proper sentence together?  And to think they're the ones cutting people open and fiddling with their brains and spinal cords.  Scary. 

Sometimes I write for marketing firms....which doesn't require as much research, but usually involves really stupid content... like organic fabrics, male "enhancement" products, gocarts, plastic surgery, potato peelers, dog breath and goat milking.  Oh, and weight loss programs.  That shit is the worst because it makes me want to try all the ridiculous diets.  But, of course I don't; which makes me feel extra fat and hopelessly lazy. So writing about weight loss ain't fun.

Sometimes I write product reviews.  Yep.  For products I have never purchased or tried.  Ever wonder who the hell takes time to review products online?  Have YOU ever reviewed a product?  No one does it.. y'all... unless: 1. the product sucks and the consumer is pissed and wants the entire world to know about it... or 2. someone PAYS for the review. People in the Phillipines will write a 150-word review in jacked-up English for less than $1 for someone desperate enough to pay for cheap, incorrect shit.  For awhile, I wondered how these Filipinos could afford to work so cheap... turns out one dollar in their country is like $50 to us, apparently. That's some sad shit. So... whenever I can, I like to throw bones their way.  I'll take a job that pays $20/hr... subcontract it to them for $2 (which is like $100, y'all!) then I edit the shit out of it and call it mine.  It's a win-win situation.... and I feel good about helping the Filipino economy.  I'm like that Tom guy who buys shoes for shoeless African kids!  Except cuter.