All I wanted was to make an ironic motivational poster with a quote from Generation Um. I know, I have too much time in my hands. The first thing I needed was a picture, so I took one looking into nothing, you know, to denote how lost I am. Secondly, I needed the actual quote from the movie. They made my life easier by using it in the trailer, but I’m lazy and I don’t do dictation since middle school. Fuck. That. I typed in the first five words on Google and voila! They used the quote in the New York Times review. Life is easy. However, I’m facing the same issue again: I’d have to type that in my phone since I want to post it on Instagram. Too lazy to type. I figure I should just copy and paste that on my email and reverse engineer that process in my phone. So, I gotta go to my email.
I open my email and my face melts off.So many emails! 327 unread emails. Seriously, don’t ever email me. Well, let’s get on with it.
Did that client respond yet?
How did the chat with Jenna end? Should I send another message to follow up?
Oh, hey, someone liked me on OKCupid! Ego boost time. Let’s see what she’s all about shall we?
She’s cute. Oh, would you look at that! More people visited me. No wonder, I’m so cute. Let’s see what they look like. Nice. NICE. Well, let’s see what they are all about. Kinda nerdy. She’s a ENPJ whatever. Ugh, I hate when people find a box to fit themselves in. Wait, she’s a gym rat? Hm. Let’s see: she’s age appropriate, probably looking for a long-term thing, with long-term goals. It never last longer than 5 dates. She wants someone to go on a run with her? Oh, she’s too choosy. That running thing just means she’ll be criticizing my shitty body. Oh, well, on to the next one.
Oh, hi! She’s 25, just as cute. She wants someone to go on a run with her? Is that a thing? Jesus, man. Are all dorky girls in New York born-again jocks? Please don’t tell me you haven’t read a book in years. Please, pretty please don’t live in Park Slope!
OK, now I’m being too choosy.
I hate when I don’t know what to write.
Oh, god, I was going to send an email to myself!
Let’s go back to Gmail.
Wait, what did Jenna say again? Let’s open her message. Uh huh. Oh. It’s not a string of emails like before, now it’s a “hangout.” That’s dumb. Should I say it’s all right, that I don’t care?
Damn it! The email to myself!
This is ridiculous, I should write about it. Let’s open Word…
Shit/Fuck! All right. Done, email sent.
On to write this thing.