Cheese Shit Ambiance

(Originally published on 6/23/12)

Well isn't this just fucking great.

I'm at a Group Write with the writing group I'm a co-organizer in.  Only six people signed up to be here today, including myself, and only five of us are actually here.  We were in a nice room with comfy chairs, plenty of outlets for our laptops, and a nice surrounding.

But no, one of the fuckheads, aka, the only fucking guy, had to open his fat fucking mouth and bring up the fact that the other room was bigger and so we should move there.  You know, to the BIGGER room, the one with metal folding chairs, 8 foot long folding tables, and cements walls, and only ONE fucking outlet, which is, of course, right next to the doorway so no table can go there.  Oh, except for the one I'm at, because my little laptop battery decided to die on me and needs to be juiced.  You know, that table with the dirty, stained tablecloth on it?

Yeah. Great.

So now I'm sitting, alone, at my own fucking Group Write, in an ice cold stone room, on a rusty metal chair, by myself in a corner that smells like the place where a dog ate a pound of rotton cheese and then shit it out.  Yes, it's true.  My very own private corner of this stone cell smells like Cheese Shit.  I'm sure this ambiance will totally help me write the seduction scene I had outlined last night and planned on whipping through this afternoon.

Fucking wonderful, motherfucker.