This is what happens when you ask Baby Jesus for techno.
You’re welcome.
As Danielle said so eloquently, “I could see myself walking away from a burning building in slow motion to this”.
I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Anyway, I’m back at it today, although I’m making some time adjustments due to the corporate copy side for a little bit. Basically, you never know when I might creep up into your inbox.
I like that. I like just popping up and looking around your shit like some sort of weirdo. Like I have any business digging around in your personal messages from Aunt Faye or that resignation email you typed up 8 months ago and still haven’t sent.
Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.
I’m aware of the hemhawing and fuckery, of course, but remember, we’re on that moratorium over here. Until something happens and I lose my shit and have to forget said moratorium while I chew my fucking face off for a few minutes.
I know. It always goes down that way, huh? Meh. I’m semi-predictable. Fucking sue me.
Good luck with that. You’ll have to sue the fucking Louboutin’s off my feet.
Don’t forget to drop in over on The Good Men Project and check out my syndicated column. It’s the Medium greatest hits, and this past Sunday I was a year in syndication. Nothing to sneeze at, I’m told.
I figure if they’ve put up with me for a year, they’ve got a fairly decent tolerance for my fuckery. God bless’em.
So, pop up and show your girl some love. Get that Zeppelin in your soul first though. That shit will set your world right. I’ll creep back up on y’all later, maybe spook you a little.
Love,
Q
Well shit, now that I've been quoted in your column i can die a happy woman 😂
Congrats on a year in syndication, you deserve it 🖤
💜💜💜