And That Was All She Wrote...

[magicaddict]

...that's it. Forget it. I'm out of there.

Any possibility of my being anything associated with BUSMS after Sweet Charity went straight out of the window with the advent of a short conversation at the end of a very long, very busy rehearsal. Once again, the committee have changed their minds after giving me free rein to do as I wanted with something.

They now want a twelve page program, because Helen doesn't see why we need it to be sixteen pages "if we're just filling up for no reason".

YOU FICKLE BASTARDS

Not only do you take my beloved poster (which you had asked me to create) and change it utterly to match with your ideas, not only do you make the front of my program (which you asked me to create) all manner of ridiculous colours, but you now seek to change its layout (which you asked me to create), site unseen and with no further thought on what it would entail than the fact that we couldn't do photographs today because everyone was rehearsing all the time.

Have you ever made a decision having thought it through entirely in your pathetic, shitty lives? Have you ever accepted any of what you asked me to create without putting your slimy little hands all over it and deciding that after all, you didn't like it, but still didn't know what you wanted? Have you given me a sliver of autonomy the same way that you have let every other aspect of the production committee do what it bloody well wants?

HAVE YOU MY ASS

You clearly think I am a loose cannon that you've got to watch like a hawk. I think you're a bunch of fucking amateurs who wouldn't know willingness and ability if it anally raped you with the worlds largest fake black cock.
I'm trying to create something that will be remembered as the best-looking show in the history of the university, and I would be able to do it if we pooled ideas, rather than you telling me to go and away and come up with something, have me slave away like a bastard, then act unsure and as though you'd like to go with something else when I present you with it.

I neither want nor need your kind of acquaintanceship. Come the 11th of February, you can all fuck off and die.

Anyone want to help me concoct an entirely more vicious resignation latter than the one I had previously designed?

Comments

[magicaddict.livejournal.com]

Salt?

[rebel-wulf.livejournal.com]

Take hammer, take nails. insert nails into idiots with hammer. take out nails and generously clean their wounds. with pure salt granules.

Then insert more nails and leave them in.

[magicaddict.livejournal.com]

You know, I like it...