Dear Arbi, Please Don't Make Me Attend the Next MadAtoms Writers Meeting
Arbi, I have the greatest respect for you and the writing staff of MadAtoms. But I can’t stand those fucking meetings.
First off, let’s talk about Thursday nights. You might call Thursday nights “me” nights. I have my racquetball league from six to eight. Then, it’s usually fried chicken at the 101 and then home to watch Survivor.
The writers meetings, which I hold in the highest of regard, take for fucking ever. It’s like watching My Dinner with Andre 8 times in a row. Not only that, but I have to suffer the indignity of a drive to Culver City. By the time I get home, some poor aspiring actor has long since voted off the island. Sure, my TiVo has safely recorded Survivor, but it's more exciting to watch live- well, not live, but with a 20 minute time delay so I can skip the commercials.
The Mad Atoms writers, while full of wit and charm, are, how shall I put this… Juvenile? Bawdy? Every discussion inevitably leads back to pornography, masturbation, or some sexual fantasy passed of as real life experience. I thought the addition of a few females to the staff might tone things down, but they seem to have made it worse. That one girl says things that would make Heidi Fleiss blush.
I swear I'm not a prude. I just don't like porn. Or speaking openly about jerking off. I believe it’s a private matter. Like prayer, or tax fraud.
And lastly, there’s the food issue. I do really appreciate MadAtoms ordering pizza for the meetings (for which to attend, I am paid not a red cent). But a couple of pizzas for a dozen writers shapes up to about two slices per person. Let's face it- two slices of pizza? What the fuck is that? It's like more than a snack, but not quite dinner. And at 8 pm on Thursday night, I've just played in my racquetball league, I'm hungrier than I'll be at any point in my week. The first time we ordered pizza I ate like 5 slices in 10 minutes. People were looking at me like I was an asshole.
All I’m asking for is to be treated like a human being. A human being who loves Survivor.
Sincerely,
Hillel Aron
(Editor's response: Do your paychecks whine too, asshole? Seriously, who watches Survivor anymore? People who watch reality tv ironically don't even watch that crap now that there's Celebrity Rehab. And by the way, I had to take three masturbation breaks just to get through your whiny bitchfest.)
First off, let’s talk about Thursday nights. You might call Thursday nights “me” nights. I have my racquetball league from six to eight. Then, it’s usually fried chicken at the 101 and then home to watch Survivor.
The writers meetings, which I hold in the highest of regard, take for fucking ever. It’s like watching My Dinner with Andre 8 times in a row. Not only that, but I have to suffer the indignity of a drive to Culver City. By the time I get home, some poor aspiring actor has long since voted off the island. Sure, my TiVo has safely recorded Survivor, but it's more exciting to watch live- well, not live, but with a 20 minute time delay so I can skip the commercials.
The Mad Atoms writers, while full of wit and charm, are, how shall I put this… Juvenile? Bawdy? Every discussion inevitably leads back to pornography, masturbation, or some sexual fantasy passed of as real life experience. I thought the addition of a few females to the staff might tone things down, but they seem to have made it worse. That one girl says things that would make Heidi Fleiss blush.
I swear I'm not a prude. I just don't like porn. Or speaking openly about jerking off. I believe it’s a private matter. Like prayer, or tax fraud.
And lastly, there’s the food issue. I do really appreciate MadAtoms ordering pizza for the meetings (for which to attend, I am paid not a red cent). But a couple of pizzas for a dozen writers shapes up to about two slices per person. Let's face it- two slices of pizza? What the fuck is that? It's like more than a snack, but not quite dinner. And at 8 pm on Thursday night, I've just played in my racquetball league, I'm hungrier than I'll be at any point in my week. The first time we ordered pizza I ate like 5 slices in 10 minutes. People were looking at me like I was an asshole.
All I’m asking for is to be treated like a human being. A human being who loves Survivor.
Sincerely,
Hillel Aron
(Editor's response: Do your paychecks whine too, asshole? Seriously, who watches Survivor anymore? People who watch reality tv ironically don't even watch that crap now that there's Celebrity Rehab. And by the way, I had to take three masturbation breaks just to get through your whiny bitchfest.)
Labels: whiny bitchface
posted by Hillel Aron at
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
3 Comments:
and you weren't even there when Arbi farted last week.
mayhaps we should go fi-core and have our own 27+ meetings at the 101.
Editor-
Your goddamn right my paycheck whines, if you can call the pittance you give me every week a pay check you jew fuck. And while I'm at it, would it kill you to leave some fucking snacks in the kitchen? I feel like gandhi over here.
Hey Arbi, enough defectors, and you can come to my soon to be bi-weekly poker game.
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