Hmmmm…. I might be back.

Given the fact that I’m now employed by a kick-ass employer who (may or may not be on to the fact that I’m a hack), I thought maybe I should/would/could return to the blogosphere (not that anyone gives a flying fucktard). So… maybe I’m back… maybe not…

Here’s to uncertainty!!!

American Assholes Throwing a Dog Over a Cliff

Don’t know if this is real or not.

If it’s fake, it’s pretty funny.

If it’s real… then I’m pretty fucking scared of the American military for a) letting people as stupid as this enlist and b) having oversea military operations that require people as stupid as this to “protect” us.

Maybe I’m just getting old.

*small update here- Yes, I’ve edited this. Problem is there’s this thing called, er…um… something about posting something automatically when you’re not around. And well, I wrote the original (which, I’m sure is cached somewhere in the magical non-erasing land of Google) when I was in a pretty sour mood (the dog that they throw over the cliff looks like a puppy version of Sparky (don’t fuck with my dog, dude!)).

Anyway, I had to work a little later than expected last night and forgot all about the “emo boy” rant I had haphazardly typed out in a fit of “life’s-not-fair! Wah! Wah!”

However, I stand by my hatred of “W” and I, like most of the outside world, am scared to death of those fuckers in the video (unless it was a fake, then they should be on TV cuz lord knows there’s nothing on these days…)

**another update: seems the fucks at YouTube or whoever/whatever got the chicken shits. The video ain’t around no more. I’ll see if I cans finds it…

Try this. It aint the original but it’ll do…

I’m really fucking pissed off about this.

(will not rant online… will not rant online… will not rant online…………)

Here, this is more like it:

Here’s Me, Wha????

shafted.jpg

So.

This is how it rolls.

The ONE time Jett and I DON’T go to the completely biased and utterly hateful Irish Blog Awards we fucking win????

So what if it’s for the Most Shafted category. The point is we won something (I presume it was something physical. Like a card or slap in the face or something, anyway).

*Sigh*

That’s the way it goes, I suppose.

YAY!!!! WE WON!!!!!

I’m a Liar

Yeah, I was surposed ta tell’s ya what’s like to be a copywriter (or sum such shite) in my last post.

And I failed to deliver.

For several reasons.

The main one’s being, I don’t have a fucking clue under the heavens as to how I got my job and then somehow managed to advance to a really great job (I sweat at night worrying that I will be found out and sent back to an equally skilled job- like street sweeper).

So for me to give any type of career advice would be like George “W” Bush telling the United States of America how to live their lives.

Oh fuck! I’m sooooooooooooooo qualified! I can do that!

So here’s my advice:

Write what you want when you can. Write for you local newspaper, your college newspaper, your high school newspaper.

Just write and write and write and write and write and then one day…

You’ll end up scribbling out advertising shit that don’t mean nothing to nobody.

But you’ll get paid really, really well.

Good luck!

Yes. Yes I Can

Today I will enlighten the masses (all 3 of you) what it’s like to be a copywriter.

(All 3 of you have now clicked, out of boredom, away. I can live with that.)

In my past life, as a copywriter for Ad Bore, (not to be confused with my new life as SENIOR COPYWRITER for the GREATEST AND BIGGEST AD AGENCY IN NORTHERN IRELAND) I was never encouraged, pushed, or tempted to write anything that might be construed as “good”.

Not that I didn’t want to.

I just wasn’t given the liberty to be creative for whatever reason (they’re assholes is a prime suspect, tho).

Mainly because the Creative Dictator was a fucktard and the “boss” was too fucking stupid to know good copy from the foaming shit letters that babbled from his keyboard (how that fat fucker could type with the fat size of his fat fucking fingers baffles me. I think he used a pointy-stick a la Homer Simpson (yes, FATBOY, I truly HATE you. Live with it. Fatboy.) (Yes, I said FATBOY. FATBOY!)))

Anyway, I now work happily and harder than ever for an agency that knows what’s what.

I’ve been part of 2 presentations in the last 5 weeks (2 more than I ever did at Ad Bore) which went over REALLY well, worked for major, major, MAJOR clients (like the UK’s biggest phone company, world famous whiskey and vodka companies, etc), and been complimented for my work, not cuz I was fishin’ for compliments but because they genuinely think I know what I’m doing (I don’t. But don’t tell them that.)

My point?

I haven’t posted regularly because…

Because…

Fuck.

I’m happy. So very, very happy.

However, I’ve got some ideas and if I ever get some down time at work and feel “hilarious” I’ll update (the people at my new job don’t care what you do as long as you get your work done. Hell, last week I spent two whole days walking around a park and sitting in pubs. And I got PAID for it!) .

It’s weird having creative energy fueled by a new outlook on life. It’s just a little harder to harness it because there’s so much in life I need to catch up on.

Sad that I’ve spent the last 2 1/2 years blogging because it was an outlet for disappointment, anger, rage, depression and fear.

Let’s never speak of it again.

Oh FUCK!!! Life Can Actually Be Kinda Cool!

Sorry, peeps!

I haven’t been too regular about my posting.

Well, I got a new job and it ROCKS!

I’m gonna have to leave it at that for the moment.

I’m not too happy to give details and/or bitch about the fuck suckers I used to work for.

But I’ll be back. I promise.

Maybe I’ll actually entertain you with shit that’s actually funny instead of shit that’s actually true.

Let’s see.

Shall we..?

WHATEVAR!!!!

dancin.jpeg

Today I’m breathing the fresh, clean air of relief (sort of).

Technically, I shoulda been footloose and fancy free as of the other day (whichever day that was).

But no.

I’ve been stressin’ like a rubber band twisted around a shitty balsa wood airplane propeller.

I’m not good at letting go. Even when ‘letting go’ means ‘quitting the biggest sumbitch bunch of ass-sucking fucktard ad agency shits in all the whole world combined…ever.’

I still wake up in the early hours thinking, ‘Jesus! They’re assholes!’

I’m still stressing about how I could make the latest XXXXXXXXX radio ad a little bit better. I worry that people will think less of me because I’m an American trying to fudge his way through the UK dialect.

I think about how to make that fat sumbitch that WAS my boss happy.

I think about how to survive.

It’s strange to think that I am now the Senior Copywriter at the biggest ad agency in Northern Ireland (Yes, fuck you JK. They’re bigger than you! (which is saying something, fatass)). They were excited to have me (but not as excited as I was to take their offer) (and they didn’t give me shit about not being ‘passionate’ (I am passionate, JK, but you stole the passion from me)).

And you, JK, said I was shit. (Again… fuck you.)

They seem cool.

They seem real.

They seem like they give a shit. (You only care about money.)

(Fingers crossed that things will be better…) (They can’t be worse.)

(Fuck you…)

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