Journalism internships will require you to work full time, know ap style, have previous bylines, speak fluent spanish and know how to code but STILL won't pay you a dime for your work.
Yesterday, during a debate with my significant other, I learned that the plural of 'moose' is not 'meese' and the world got just a little less magical.
Pretty sure I've told everyone, but just in case: I've moved into Uni, so my schedule is probably gonna be booked and responses will probably be less frequent.
You know, it really doesn't matter if you give me a faceclaim for your OC. If you have a character in your PFP, they will automatically be your character in my mind. Doesn't matter if they're not the same gender, species, or they look like some abstract art. I'm sorry this is just how I work.
As a writer, even I don't have the words to describe how badly I want some asparagus. If I saw someone with some, I would absolutely beat ass for it. Every fiber of my being is yearning for fucking asparagus. Last week I devoured an entire package in one sitting without blinking an eye. I am seriously debating spending 30 dollars to uber to the store, buy the shit, and come back. Worse of all is I don't even want it seasoned. I just want it steamed and down my throat as fast as fucking possible.
Something that creeps me out enough to keep me up at night: The nutty putty caving incident. There are some things in life that give you the fucking willies. I'd rather engulf myself in hairless spiders than even go near a cave because of that single incident.
You know before, it was like, "Oh yes, let's have a modern setting" But now it's like, "Let's have a modern setting. But not, you know, including the current events of the time". :-;.