I shouldn't do this.

Fuck you people who don't call me for an interview. Fuck you for getting my hopes up -- social media for a fashion company? Hell yes! Fuck you for letting me think for a fucking brief second that I, too, could be a productive member of society and not only contribute to the GNP and my own domestic economy but that I might like it. Imagine. How fucking great would that have been? Too fucking great for me apparently.
Fuck you for not even having the manners to send me a form letter email after I took the time to craft a nice letter of introduction and drop a chunk of change on a website so that you could easily view my work. I realize it's possible that I wasn't right for your job, or that you filled it internally, or that you just placed an ad to appease the INS 'cause you really wanted to hire your niece from England, or that you didn't even have a job but placed an ad to see what was kind of employable sots were out there. (And if that's the case, fuck you again.)
Fuck you for making me wish I had become a plumber and putting this fantasy in my head: you are throwing a party for thirty of your best friends including your boss when all your toilets and sinks back up and you desperately call me but I don't answer because I am in Brazil learning to samba because I am rich. Here's why. When you are a plumber everybody needs you and nobody knows how to fix their own pipes (unlike writing, which they teach all of us in school). Plus I only fix the toilets of people whose websites I like. So you are left with a bottle of Drano and a plunger and brackish water threatening to spill out onto your imported tile floors. Fuck you.