Firstly, it’s not for anything illegal. I know that’s the first question that always comes to everyone’s mind. Is it a dead body? Is she moving pills again? Whose fucking abusive husband is unaccounted for?
Well, Mr. and Ms. Smarty Fucking Pants, it’s none of those things, thank you.
So, I’m writing a book, I know I’ve mentioned it here and there. It’s going to be fucking stupid good. Like unable to put it down good. Like, you may as well just go ahead and call me your favorite author and buy another bookshelf good. Yea, I said it. I mean it also.
However, I need some of my current and former military people who could give me 15 or 20 minutes of your time.
I’m doing an obscene amount of research, but as we all know with any sort of military based book, you better have your fucking information together and fine-tuned or it’s going to be an all-out riotous event when the first Marine who was in that action catches wind of your fuck up.
I’m not going out like that.
I don’t need any specific active-duty time period, those are already set and ready to roll. I need details. I need personal recounts of places and time periods that will give life to my scenes, if you’re picking up what I’m laying down.
I’m sure you are, that’s why you read me. Except for you nasty bitches in the back and the CNC fetishists in the next to last row, I have no fucking idea why y’all are still even here. I mean, we’re 3 years deep, ho, y’all ain’t got something to do yet?
Fuck. Start charging you hos rent on them chairs.
Ok, so if you have been a member of any branch at any time and would like to give me a tale or two of your time, I would love to set up an appointment with you. I prefer to get you on the zoom, but if for some reason you cannot handle staring at my glossy, gorgeous hair for 15 minutes, we can do it via email. I can even type up a list of prompts if you need me to.
Any of you who are so kind as to share your tales with me will get a mention, also. So there’s that. I mean, that’s almost as good as money, right?
Look, I can promise you when the book picks up on that holiday wish list vibe, I’ll be acting so fucking new money ignorant, I will straight up fly to the end of your street and make a spectacle of handing you your giant check for $100, ok?
New. Money. Ignorant. Count on it.
Anyway, if anyone needs me, that’s where I am. Cooking up the rest of this story, and just really doing this fucking thing to death. Hence the techno, because I do the 4 or 5 minutes of typing, then the beat drops and I’m out of the chair dancing, then back to the typing. I know it’s not how Hemingway did it, but fuck that, I’ll find my own way into the gutter face down.
Thanks ahead of time. Hit me on the Bitchface line, I’m still here, just ya know, trying to get the money part of the rich and famous pipe dream.
That’s all, plane to your street giant check new money ignorant tell your friends if they’re military I need their shit too. Y’all know what I’m yammering about.
My first question was actually “should I bring a shovel?”
My second, totally unrelated question, is: is there a shelter in the St Petersburg area you would consider most in need of toiletries?
Wish I could help with the book but my military career was derailed when I had to give up my nomination to the Naval Academy cause I was so sick.