The Girl Who Couldn’t Spell Finds a New Job

“You don’t me, you don’t know me at all”
-Ben Folds Five

J/k with the Ben Fold’s reference! Not really though. You probably don’t know me, but I’ve been a D- celebrity on the Internet for nearly two years now. I’m one tier below Kathy Griffin in terms of micro-fame. Two years ago, I interned and wrote at 23/6 (remember that site?) and after several months of being told by at least 5 commenters that I was funny, I moved on. Specifically, I took on an editor role at the awesomely snarky blog Jossip. Well, the editor role at Jossip, since by the end of my tenure, I was the only one working there.

So if you haven’t seen me IRL for the past eighth months or wonder why I’m always talking about ulcers and hemorrhoids, now you know. It was a steep learning curve. Turns out the past tense of “pay” is not “payed.” (That’s something my liberal arts education didn’t teach me, because we were too busy learning about “ideas,” not “grammar.”) But as of Friday, I am a free agent. Jossip is on hiatus. I am totally free to work on all those “creative” projects I’d promise myself I would start once I wasn’t blogging 18-22 posts a day. Spring is the time for changes, after all.

That feeling lasted until Saturday afternoon when I checked my bank balance and it was less than the amount Ruth Madoff managed to smuggle her husband in jail.

I was a member of the Twitterati! I had been on a Scranton radio station at least three times! I had a blurry picture taken with Ed Harris at Arianna’s (first name basis!) Inaugural Ball! I wrote for Gavin McInnes on Street Carnage and then got into a sissy slap-fight with him. How could I be so poor?

After I had to fire my psychiatrist last month because it was too expensive, I thought I had made a lot of recession-proof decisions. Wasn’t that new Chinatown doctor cheaper and way more generous with the pills, even if he didn’t speak much English? Who needs to go grocery shopping anyway when you can eat 3-month old ice-cream from the bodega for every meal? And why go out and drink, when you haven’t seen another living soul since you started working from home in January? With your new freelancer lifestyle, your only hope of waking up is if you promise yourself ice-cream after you brush your teeth (around noon?).

My name is Drew Grant, and this is the scared shitless life of a freelance “media person.” ASSME anything.