“Your ads are annoying. I don’t know why you bother. It’s not like you are a real writer.”
All hail the mighty 2 am internet troll. The anonymous (or not so, you little ip leaver, you) nasty note leaving, bastard ass hiding deep under the bridge troll. The squirrely little shitface of a troll, the kind that hunts and pecks the keyboard in an effort to swirl up the nastiest and most hurtful of comments, tucked back deep into an old post so as to escape the sharp eyes of my commenters.
Do Boca burgers truly offend you so, dear troll? Does my dancing collection of veggie patties, crumbled Boca strewn artfully into lasagna cast you in to such a tizzy that your well trained, and artful eye cannot focus upon the words I bring to the page?
Too fucking bad.
While it’s true that I am not getting rich from my ads, the money I make does completely defray the cost of this site. Having said that, it even allows me to pocket just a little extra. Pennies, but that means I am being paid to write, and not paying to write.
I ceaselessly admire those with the talent and the balls to write for a living. I wish that I could do the same (I am looking at YOU, Paige). I, unfortunately do not. At least I do have the ovaries to write under my own name, and not anon.
So to you, my dear night dwelling, blog surfing troglodyte little bridge troll I extend my dainty middle finger and also all of the wishes held within.