You can’t get out of the “what do you do” question. It is always, ALWAYS the first thing people ask after learning your name. I was told that Europeans consider it rude but apparently not since every single fucking European ever also does it in every conversation. What do you do? What is the only activity on the entire planet, in all of history, that you just spent 60 miserable, thankless and non-remunerative hours doing, and now are trying to spend one of your scant free moments escaping from– WHAT IS THAT THING, I demand that you tell me immediately and spend several minutes discussing it by rote, either for some venal “industry” reason or because I am so completely unimaginative that I’m incapable of discussing any other fucking topic. And you try to steer them away from it, and they fucking INSIST. “No, but really– what do you do?” I’m the Senior Vice President of Go Fuck Yourself. Jesus.
August 26, 2012
[…] even in a “game” way; I just got so sick of the fucking question. I just spent sixty hours “doing” what I fucking “do” and now I’m […]
January 16, 2013
[…] Ellen while some Mexican raises the baby. Eat a fucking dick. With your talk about jobs and what do you do. I’m a writer, I’ll say. What have you written? I’ll tell them I wrote […]