I still hope they get AIDS

I work a few jobs. There’s my day job which in an office, my freelance makeup artist job which is done anywhere the clients want, and my volunteer job which is done anywhere my laptop and I are. 

My volunteer job was to create a website for a local non-for-profit (that would definitely appreciate not being connected with a blog titled anything “Suicidal”, and then to maintain it forever. Forever. I frequently hate this job, as I’m sure other web designers would agree, because sometimes my “client” asks for ridiculous things. Like redesigning the entire website based on a fucking postcard they recently purchased at a gas station in Arkansas, even though they are in NO WAY AFFILIATED TO THE STATE OF ARKANSAS. They’re local. NEW MEXICO local. But I’m getting upset, and there’s no need for that.

When they ask for ridiculous things, I swear, a lot. I get on my laptop, start trying to make their website still achieve its purpose of advertising their mission while accommodating whatever artist whims they have that week. Since I’m usually at home while I do this, the entire time, I mutter curses to the entire organization. The most common curse being, “ I hope they get syphilis, and they rot, fester from the inside out. I hope they go undiagnosed, until parts of their face falls off, and anyone who looks at them knows. I hope their genitals shrivel up and drop into a sewage hole.” Happy things like that.

Last night, I was again asked to redesign the entire website, but I had a deadline, a deadline of “before tomorrow”. I was so pissed, but I didn’t have time for usual witches cursing. All I had time to do was scream “AIDS! AIDS! AIDS!” 

Mr. J overhead me, “what do you need?” He thought I meant that I needed “aides” to help me with something.

He’s probably a better person than me.