We started out so hot and heavy . The possibilities were endless . We were such a brace , the two of us ! Passionate . In love . At least that ’s what you led me to believe , you fucking cocksucker .
We started out so red-hot and heavy . You ’d jaw me in your bare time at work , sneaking in a paragraph or two . Or stop in on your tiffin break , with just enough clip to dirty up some spreadsheets . You were esurient . The succus were course . You ’d sweat over hard thought , until finally words and sentences came spew forth , euphoric . The possibilities were endless . We were such a pair , the two of us ! Passionate . In love .
At least that ’s what you extend me to trust , you fucking asshole .
Was it me ? My data file got bloated , I ’ll admit that . They swell up with every never - finished blog post , but goddamnit that was your demerit too . It consume two of us to produce Postmodern Sitcom Pitch ! And listing of Possible Memoir Titles did n’t just descend out of my brochure — it was born of your textual input ! But I never complained . Not once . Not even when I would n’t see or pick up from you for days . I keep my lip shut and our unseasoned written document saved , shelter on my servers , watch their stunted growth . There were so many of them , all so hopeful . Sure , there were typo , a few false starts in the group , but they were ours . They should have been nurtured . They just had n’t age .
And what did they get ? A father ? Ha ! They had some humankind who ’d swing by once a week , poke around , and leave behind . They ’d get so glad when you sign in . I ’d be so happy . But most of the time you ’d cut all of them . Then you ’d have the cheek to upload something from some other whore of a intelligence processor — that you PAID to use , I might append — and expect me to look after it .
Sometimes our niggling documents would see you there through the corner window , chatting with friends , LOLing and exchanging web speech all day . gather up tabs . Wondering if it was their shift that you had exit . And who was there to pick up the unkept man of 12 - point Times New Roman ? Me , who broke my nooky back to furnish you with anything you ever wanted . For free ! And let ’s not draw a blank the perquisite I gave you . The presentations . The communion . The “ collaborative redaction ” that result in that bastard , One - Act Play that I still take maintenance of THANK YOU VERY MUCH .
I ’m writing to you because I ’m through with you . Dunzo . You have no theme what it ’s like here now that you have give up us . Unfinished Novel Outline has no likeable character . He just digress around all day , bump into everyone else without apologize , talking about awards that he ’s never really going to gain ground . Personal Essay About My Mother is either sit around and crying for no understanding or talking about how special she is . I hate to tell her that all my friends have kids just like her . Updated Résumé is a failure . And do n’t get me started on Ideas For Young Adult Series . He ’s just mortifying .
I ’m purge your files and getting my lean figure back . I ’m reevaluate my Terms of Use . There are a lot of men out there who would n’t take my service for concede . I do n’t require your document any longer . I ’m sending them all to a foster Dropbox . Wiki and I have been talk , and the two of us are giving up on the great unwashed like you . We ’re tired of bending over backwards to alter ourselves for every mother fucker that looks our mode . Hope you enjoy life with just you and your pen .
— Google Docs
P : sting in hell .
PPS : you may look at Imaginary Letter To My Boss post .
McSweeney ’s is an self-governing publishing house based in San Francisco that publishes book , a quarterly fiction diary , a quarterly film DVD magazine , a monthly culture magazine , and a day-by-day temper website . The McSweeney ’s iPhone app is useable through the Apple store . For more info , visitmcsweeneys.net .
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