(via Worst Client Comments Turned Into Posters | Bored Panda)
Oh god, I’m not even a designer but SO much of my job bullshit is represented here, it’s making my eye twitch.
Publishers Weekly: When a Cover Can Ruin a Book.
Brother, you ain’t kiddin.
When a manager requests that I do something and then chastises me for doing it
10. Bohemian Rhapsody
9. Smells Like Teen Spirit
8. Billie Jean
7. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
6. Stairway to Heaven
5. Blue Suede Shoes
4. Dancing Queen
3. We Are the World (really?)
2. Heartbreak Hotel
1. Hey Jude
10 Of The Worst Portmanteaus I Have Ever Seen, Courtesy of Trendwatching.com
10. “Teenpreneurs”
9. “Flawsome”
8. “Maturialism”
7. “Re-commerce”
6. “Trysumers”
5. “Custowners”
4. “Tasksumers”
3. “Citysumers”
2. “Statusphere”
1. “Me-tail”
I compulsively portmanteau everything (much to the annoyance of friends and coworkers), and even I think these are bad.
Example of my sickness: I work in rights and permissions in publishing (which is exactly as fun as it sounds). Every now and then — okay, daily — we get a real doozy of a project, where the author is like, “oh hai, can I include the full text of all the Harry Potter books in my book, and also various pictures of children I took at the park who were unaware I was photographing them?”; stuff that makes our jobs a real pain in the ass. I have dubbed these projects “rightsmares”. And they are. Coining this term may be my only lasting legacy at this company.
(via okaycheckitout)
99 cents per interview, for a total of 50 interviews, plus cover designs and photos. Not bad!
You should be nice.
I work in a not-very-glamorous publishing job (spoiler alert: most of them are not very glamorous). In the course of my work, my colleagues and I often have to deal with famous authors and other important figures — usually through their literary representation, but not always.
In the meantime, when you treat us like shit and dick us around when we try to pay you? We actively discourage our editors from putting your shit in their publications. And maybe, one day, some of us cube-lackeys will reach positions of influence, and we’ll remember your fuckery. And we will not publish your work.
* Which would probably get me sued. On the other hand, I would love to promote the people who are a dream to work with, except usually it’s the authors who are so successful they don’t need the money. Go figure.
And write the book with hands that know typing.
Finally, a Tumblr that knows my pain.
OUT OF MY WAY YOUNGLINGS! I have no time for your foolish prattle.
thegirlwiththebaddragontattoo:
… Her long hair, still wet from the shower, had been combed down her back in a wet swath. Hilda was sitting on the floor, her round, wet boobs still wet from the shower’s water. She dried off the water with a towel, which then became wet.
Hilda gasped when she saw a reflection in her bedroom mirror: through the slightly open door, she caught a glimpse of the chiseled abs and square jaw of the mysterious stranger who shared her cabin. She stood and spun around, her breasts swinging heavily with the momentum. She grabbed the door and flung it open, revealing shirtless Torolf (which was seriously his name) quivering with desire in the hallway.
Torolf was ashamed at being caught, but his shame made him even hotter – hotter for sex. He stepped into the room, and his bulging abs accidentally smushed into Hilda’s rich chest.
As Hilda’s buttermilk bosoms squished up against his granite abs, Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
“Hilda,” Torolf murmured thickly, his throbbing meat wand pressing against Hilda’s warm thighs. “There is a secret I need to not tell you: You are my forbidden desire.”
Hilda had been waiting to hear these words. Her heart was lifted on golden wings and soared toward a radiant sun of perfect joy. She saw herself and Torolf happy together, bathed in the golden light of love. Her snooch got all warm, too.
“Torolf,” Hilda moaned, her lush teats straining with desire. “I need you.”
Torolf, coarse abs pulsing softly in the moonlight, stood silently.
Hilda looked at him expectantly.
“Oh, sorry,” she added. “Torolf, I need you – sexually.”
At hearing those beautiful words, Torolf flexed his rough-hewn abs and Hilda found herself being guided to her soft bed by the sheer force of Torolf’s undulating midsection. She parted her thighs in anticipation, exposing the soft pink petals of her clunge.
Torolf entered her like she was a lottery. His engorged pecker pushed inside her and she felt fulfilled with sexual fulfillment.
Hilda clutched at the bedsheets with lust and ecstasy and her hands. Her spongy love mountains hurled to and fro with each pounding. Her body was like a beautiful flower that was opening and somebody was pushing their dick inside it.
Then Torolf moaned, arched his back, and suffered from dick Parkinson’s. He pumped in all of his hot pearlescent sperms as Hilda spasmed with so many orgasms!
The two lay still for a moment as the stinky scent of lovemaking billowed around the room.
Hilda got out of bed, still shimmering with orgasm. She glowed with contentment, like a cat who ate the cream of the crop.
She walked across the room and picked up her towel, still wet with shower water. “Torolf,” she said softly, “there’s something I have to tell you…”
But her bed was empty.
Torolf was gone, escaped out the bedroom window. In the distance, Hilda heard the fading sound of galloping abs.this is so terrible
I want so bad to make a dramatic reading of this
I lost it at throbbing meat wand omg
what.
i want this on my blog forever holy shit
holy
shit
How in the hell did this get published?! Oh my gawd. That has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever read.
Torolf almost had a dick aneurysm.
wow, there is so much going on here that is just not sexy at all. does this author know what boobs are? or metaphors? or parkinson’s? or abs?
I am suddenly nostalgic for the days when my high school girlfriends and I would hold dramatic readings of terrible romance novels. Although we usually used V.C. Andrews, which is not nearly as terrible as this. This is a special achievement in Terrible.
Wait what.
This is a book.
This got published.
Someone made money off of this.
Off of DICK ANEURYSM.
