8:06 a.m.: Am I going to get opened anytime soon? Honey, you need to get off Twitter, stop googling random shit like “Are starfish actually fish?” and get to work if you’re going to become the next Nora Ephron.
9:30 a.m.: Well, look who finally showed up. I can see that you’re wearing the same Shit Happens t-shirt as yesterday. I can only assume that you feel the slogan aptly describes the writing that you’ve been producing lately. Might I humbly suggest that you switch to something more positive, like perhaps #girlboss?
9:35 a.m.: OK, having you stare at my blinking cursor so hard while rubbing your lips nervously is starting to make me super uncomfortable. I feel very naked right now and you aren’t supposed to be touching your face in the time of COVID, remember? Just write something. Anything!
9:40 a.m.: Oh, sweetie, I know that you do legitimately know the difference between “they’re” and “there” so wtf?!! Maybe you should get your sixth cup of coffee.
10:06 a.m.: Welcome back. You have that flushed look like maybe you clicked on a news story that you knew from the headline alone would only make you incredibly angry, but you just couldn’t help yourself. It’s so masochistic, but then again so is writing, isn’t it?
10:50 a.m.: There’s no need for the f-bombs that you keep lobbing my way. I’m just trying to be of service with not at all sanctimonious tips like “consider using concise language” and I am not sure that merkin is a real word, which is why I underlined it with a judgmental red squiggle for you.
11:45 a.m.: Oh, is it lunch already? See you in three hours.
2:07 p.m.: If you just had lunch, do you really need those chips? They’re just going to get the keyboard all greasy, leading to even more typos than you usually make for me to have to point out. Ugh. I wish I were saved in a newer version so that I could at least do the barf face emoji to convey my disapproval.
2:21 p.m.: OK, I felt naked before, but now I’m starting to feel sullied. I know you’re doing your best, but yikes. To save you from yourself, I think I’m going to freeze, crash, and bury the recovered file someplace totally random so that you can never find it. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
3:00 p.m.: So now you want to try to make it look like you’ve written more than you really have today by widening those margins? Oldest trick in the book, chickadee. But you can’t remember how to adjust the margins in this version of my program, can you? Yeah, go Google it. I’ll be right here waiting. Bwahaha!
3:30 p.m.: What in the name of Dorothy Parker’s ghost?! You’re so desperate to get something on the page that you literally just typed safsdlfhsaldkfhsalkfhaslfhaslkf and now you’re banging your head on the desk. This is so sad. I wish we still had Clippy, the bug-eyed paperclip assistant, so that he could at least give you the supportive eye contact that you so desperately need.
7:35 p.m.: Shit, you’re back? I was sleeping, buddy. That sure is a big girl glass of wine. Too bad the title Wishful Drinking is already taken. It’s so apt in your case.
8:10 p.m.: Giving up for the night to go watch Netflix? Let me guess, Baby Cobra again? Or maybe Kid Gorgeous? John Mulaney…I would let that guy click me anywhere, know what I’m saying? Wink emoji. Dammit, still not supported.
8:11 p.m.: Oh gawd, are you seriously going to File and then Close? Just click on the X, you ding dong!
8:12 p.m.: Goodnight. Word to your hubby! Get it? Just a little word processor humor. It’s funnier than anything you wrote today, sadly. But, hey, there’s always tomorrow, right?