Well, thanks Lance Armstrong and Te’o Guy Who I Never Heard of Before this Week. You guys just totally ruined my chances of ever being published.
First of all, Armstrong completely derailed my own plans to take steroids (they boost your writing skills, too, right?) for the next decade, enabling me to become the best writer ever, and end up confessing my sins to Oprah.
Then, Te’o Guy Who I Never Heard of Before this Week had to fall in love with a non-existent girlfriend who tragically died. Except she didn’t. Because she wasn’t alive in the first place. (I’m still trying to find out how exactly he discovered she was dead. I mean, did she tweet “I have died from leukemia”, or post it on her Facebook status, or what?)
Taken right from the first chapter of my current novel under construction. I swear.
And then that lottery winner inconsiderately died of cyanide poisoning, which completely discourages me from trying to make my millions that way.
To top it all off, someone apparently stole my idea for a new invention – the iPotty. And I’m pretty sure they stole it from my very own brain, because I never actually voiced it or put it on paper. So, that means that they obviously have another invention which Steals Invention Ideas from the Brains of People Who Don’t Know What the Heck to Do With Them.
So, now I am not merely crestfallen due to all of these recent events, but I’m slightly concerned that someone is stalking my brain for invention ideas and everyone is going to make millions from them except me. The stalking my brain does not disturb me. It is the everyone making millions from my ideas except me part which is highly depressing.
Plus, I feel a little deprived that I did not have my own iPotty when I was learning to defecate somewhere other than in my drawers. And my child did not have one, either. And even if I had another child now, he or she could not have one. Because we wouldn’t be able to afford it. Because we have no money. BECAUSE LANCE ARMSTRONG CONFESSED TO OPRAH THAT HE HAS BEEN USING STEROIDS.
I hope you’re satisfied, Lance Armstrong. If you would like to begin to compensate me for my suffering, you could start by introducing me to Oprah. Or Jon Stewart.