What did I come here to do again?

Oh, hello, blank Blogger window! You must be here for a reason. I found you behind a half-finished site map, my online banking, iTunes, and a blog about shoes. Hi! What did I want to tell you? Do you know why I try to put chilled liquids away in the cabinets sometimes? Are you my mother? Do you know where I can find a perfect shirt dress? Do you want to pay me money to write breezy content?

On that last one, if you want to pay me for any of your content creation needs, do get in touch. I will get out all my nicest commas. They languish now in a drawer next to a cake server. I could tell you what I think of shorts worn in the evening. I can do investigative journalism where I make up most facts and key players. I think that is called fiction, or possibly it’s called working for a newspaper in Boston. I can ghost write thank-you notes for the most unimaginative gifts or write columns about real estate mistakes. You know you need a me on staff. You never ask for help. It’s not cool to be a martyr.

What, you say? Most people get jobs by having resumes and writing samples. Preposterous. Who has time for that? I’ve got four years of a grimy, crumpled, profane writing sample right here. I can see from my stats that plenty of people read this. I don’t know why, but thanks anyway! Who are you? Hi!

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