So here I was, content, sleepy, about the hit the hay, and I decided "oh why not I'll just check to see if I have any new reviews, 9 times out of 10 thats a no. But heck yeah, I'm going to dream."
And what do you know... I got a review: One that just blew my "bitch please" meter into overdrive.
The fastest, easiest way to piss me the capital F off is to tell me that I am not working fast enough for your liking. It's not even a flame! At least those I laugh at.
"Omjeeeez its taken nearly 3 months to get this far? Get to the action already... I'm starting to forget what this is about the story is moving at a snail's pace. You better hurry if you want to keep your readers active!" - le reviewer
Ok punk, you really want to know why I don't update this story all that often?
I have a life outside of my writing. Sometimes... most of the time... I wish I didn't.
I have spent the last three months being jerked around from full time to part time hours, getting a promotion (which I still haven't received proper compensation for yet). Then being used as a fucking pawn to get someone else fired, and working harder then most of my coworkers (sans pregnant ones) are expected to because if I don't work hard I'll get written up, but if they get written up they'll call ethics on my boss so he doesn't even bother trying to write them up.
Oh and not to mention half of my co workers are pregnant, which sucks oh so bad because I am the mommy of two angel babies. My daughters both died, because I am unable to carry a child full term. So every goddamn day when I go into work and people ask me "hey why aren't you pregnant yet?" or make jokes about something being in the water I want to cry... not just cry, but fall into a deep dark pit of darkness and never crawl out again.
And it gets better: Since June I've had my cousin, who is 17 living with me. He has issues with girls because his mother abused him, and he takes the 'yolo' phrase to an extreme. Found out that he is creepy as heck. He sits at the base of my bedroom door and listens in when my husband and I are home. I caught him trying to watch us have sex!
I freaked out and confided in one of my friends about this situation. I thought she'd understand because she has some weird roommates too, but no... all she said was "well it's a good thing you lost your babies, because you are clearly not ready to be a mother". (omfg wtf!)
And my drunkard of an uncle (cousin's father) sits around and blames me that his son doesn't do anything. "Why don't you make him get a job?" the jerk-wad whines!
News flash! You live in the same fucking house! I pay you rent to live here. I could just stop paying your boozed up ass so that I don't go broke and insane from having a 17 year old who eats all of my food, and breaks everything... and I mean EVERYTHING in my house. He's your son, you be the parent!
Omg, you really expect me to be in the mood to write a fucking pwp fic with shit like this going on in my life?
Saying that writing is my best slagging friend! I write like a madwoman every damn day. I divide my before work and after work time into writing for nanowrimo, and writing originals or fanfics... and yes I am ahead of the target goal for nano even though I've written on other things! If I haven't updated a fic don't be so fucking dumb as to tell me that I'm crawling at a snails pace. I don't fucking write on command asshole, especially not for someone who is going to be rude.
I'll even tell you a secret: I was just about to write more on that fic, but the second I read your glib little comment I got a little defiant. Now the mood is gone and I have to rant because its 2am, my language is diving down to somewhere between "trailer trash" and "sailor", and.... and...
*fizzles out*