Here are a series of texts with humorous confessions, and a poll at the end.
According to five minutes of internet research (actually it was twenty because I got distracted when I found that there was such a thing as an Archie Comics Twitter – what?!?!) I am a victim of Facebook ad targeting. And not in a nice way.
The d-bags at Facebook, who so recently told me I have no friends, have found a new way to demoralize me with their targeted attacks. Like, say, when you’re trying to mass-eat pretzels and chug down dollar wine with your best friends while catching up on Empire only to see that THIS is what Facebook thinks is most relevant to you based on advertisers (quote straight from the Facebook gods’ mouths):
Get[ting] the most value from your ad spend by reaching only the people that matter to you
According to ad-space buyers and Facebook’s internet algorithms, the best ad choices for me only have to do with Walmart, cats, and litter.
I kind of bailed on Fan Fiction, huh? Well, here is a grand return to Fan Fiction of Failure. It features the fictioning of Breaking Bad by Emerson student Jenna Danoy, the soothing vocals of our favorite Anthony J, and the hasty artwork of The Law Offices of Van Noss².
Welcome to the most uncomfortable Fan Fiction yet.
The moment Jesse, battered and broken, finished with their most recent batch, Walt took him in his arms.
“Good job, Jesse,” Walt said, stroking Jesse’s face with a tender thumb. He pressed his erection, which had been growing as he watched Jesse cook, against the younger man’s back. “I’m…very proud of you.”
Jesse turned around to face him. Walt noticed that his crystal blue eyes that matched the meth were full of tears.
“You’ve never said that before,” Jesse said, his rough voice cracking over the syllables the way he had just cracked the sheet of meth into a million little crystals.
The sincerity aroused Walt. He felt himself stirring, beneath his tighty-whities, and he took Jesse’s face in his hands.
“What do we do now?” Jesse asked, slipping his hand over Walt’s wrinkled one.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Walt breathed.
Jenna Danoy is a senior Writing, Literature & Publishing major at Emerson College. In addition to giving voice to Walter White’s deepest, darkest dreams, she enjoys baked goods, crafty television dramas, writing (good) short fiction, and iced green tea. Her short fiction has been published in Concrete Literary Magazine, and one of her plays was produced for the stage in high school. Hang out with her on Twitter @jenna_danoy
Anthony J never provides a bio but he’s got a bangin’ voice
The Law Offices of Van Noss² still hasn’t recovered from the end of Breaking Bad
Albeit a bit late, but this installment of fan fiction of failure is sure to ruin your 90s childhood. You Life is Not So Great is proud to present:
It’s a rare condition, this day and age, to read any good news on the newspaper page.
by: Eric Z
voiced by: Joanna
art by: the Law Offices of Van Noss
“What’s for dinner?” Carl asked, ignoring his son.
Harriette transferred the burned contents from a pan on the battered range to a Corningware plate.
“Nice to see you too,” she said putting the plate down in front of her husband.
Carl drew a deep breath.
“A little boy got killed today, Harriette. Seven fucking years old.” Carl’s voice wavered. “Dead on his way to school.”
Without warning, the backdoor flew open. A shelf of knickknacks fell to the counter in its wake, all but a few breaking.
“Did I do that?” Steve said in mock surprise.
Carl was silent as he left the kitchen. His dinner remained untouched on the table long after Winslow family went to bed.
Eric Z is best known for his contributions to such periodicals as Modern Dad Magazine: A Magazine for Modern Dads and Dad Fancy: A Fancy Dad’s Guide to Modern Living. He collects Fabergé egg and sometimes remembers his grandmother’s birthday (Editors Note: October 17..er…18…sometime in mid-October). Mr. Z coined the phrase “I live my life a quarter mile at a time” and fuck you for saying differently. You can sort of find more of his stuff at Reel 9 Productions
Joanna has the voice of an angel and is cooler than you (You Life is Not So Great took some liberties writing her bio)
The Law Offices of Van Noss
² – the popular mantalope – is not allowed to play D&D anymore
Here’s the deal, at the beginning of the month You Life is going to post one (intentionally) horrible piece of fan fiction. We’ll take submissions, illustrate them, and get a voice over actor to voice them (more here). That way you can start off your month the right way – with your dreams of Pokémon copulation finally coming true (no innuendo intended in that sentence, but glad it happened!).
Our first piece is by my favorite comedian Dave Terruso titled Flash Fiction,
pictures by Jim C, and voice acting by Anthony C
(You can listen to this voice over brilliance here:)
He had to look perfect today.
The Scarlet Speedster ran at a brisk pace around the park, slowly picking up speed. Eventually he ran at top speed, circling the Earth twice per second. Soon he reached a speed where he vibrated at a frequency that allowed him to travel to an alternate universe.
Once in the alternate universe, The Crimson Bolt slowed down and looked for his target, Mr. Jay Garrick. He quickly found Jay, easily recognizable in his outdated costume that used the same red and gold as Barry’s.
Both men heaved, catching their respective breaths. “You came back,” Garrick said.
They took turns fucking each other.
May Krampus wander the streets and terrify children with rusty chains and bells, bringing swift and beastly justice to naughty kids, during this special holiday season.
Since funemployment, I recently moved out of the delightful shitbox that I formerly called, “home.” It was a hard readjustment and a tearful farewell to all of the things I had gotten so used to: no heat, questionable fire safety, a garbage fridge. But, I have new things to look forward to now. One of these things I was affectionately referring to as “homeless’ing,” where I would delight in staying on friends’ couches.
Since I am the luckiest of ladies, two of my friends granted me a headquarters where I might unpack my cat knickknacks on a less transient basis.
But just like bad credit and scabies follows a person, I have a very special spectral visitor.
No. It can’t be. There is no possible way that this can what I think it is. Because what I think it is a misplaced crock pot filled with poisonous old food. I remember something like this; something dark, and evil, and filled with some sort of chili…
My trash-fridge is my own personal version of a Stephen King novel. Because upon closer inspection it seems like trash-fridge chili is following me. Haunting me…
I might have created a sentient being in trash-fridge. And I feel like I’m not paranoid in saying that the ghost of it is trying to murder me. IT’S THE CHILI OF THE UNDEAD!
Happy Halloween, all!
Obviously my cats are my best friends. The only problem with that is their ability to communicate back is somewhat truncated; the conversation is mostly one-sided and responses are generally meows and shedding. Whenever I need to have the deep, soul barring conversations that are so necessary in deep relationships I turn to my other best friend.
Cats can really only give me so much biased self-validation. When I need tough unbiased love, I consult Google. And here is a sample of the sorts of deep and searching questions that I address to Google when needing to divine the meaning of only the important existential crises
When reinspecting my most recent talks with Google I noticed that the searches look exactly like what a teenager from the 90s would ask (if they had Google! Unlucky sods). It also is representative of someone who has almost exclusively been watching Jurassic Park and Degrassi: The Next Generation for the last two weeks because all of their other DVDs are packed away.
And when asking the big questions, Google is sure to deliver with the results. Such as bringing up this gem pertaining to my Jimmy Brooks question (also known, currently, as Drake).
Thank you Google, for filling my apartment with laughter. But also thank you for filling me with consternation pertaining to the state of education in the United States, and the infrequency that our children are required to learn about Helen Keller. She was the one in the wheelchair that also created stickers in the 90s, right?
A recreation of Helen Keller overcoming her obstacles.
Thank you, Google