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mousmeWhat the subject line says.
I'd rather get a hundred thousand paper cuts on my face
Than spend one more minute with you
I'd rather rip out my intestines with a fork
Than watch you going out with other men
I'd rather slam my fingers in a door (yah)
Again and again and again and again and again
Oh, can't you see what I'm tryin' to say, Darlin...
I'd rather have my blood sucked out by leeches (leeches)
Shove an icepick under a toenail or two
I'd rather clean all the bathroom in Grand Central Station with my tongue
Than spend one more minute with you
Yes, I'd rather jump naked on a huge pile of thumbtacks
Or stick my nostrils together with crazy glue
I'd rather dive into a swimming pool filled with double-edged razor blades
Than spend one more minute with you
I'd rather rip my heart out of my ribcage with my bare hands
and then throw it on the floor and stomp on it 'till I die
Than spend one more minute with you
My father told me that the beginning of this text isn't very good, that I didn't "take enough risks" with the text. What am I, Batman? I'm a translator. I translate the text. I am not an editor. I don't do content. If I fuck too much with the words, then I change the meaning of the text, and then the author gets pissed off.
It doesn't help that this time around the author is my father (and a colleague of his: why do all profs seem to write with sixteen other profs, anyway? Doesn't it get confusing?).
*sigh*
Four more pages. I have to have this ready for a 10 o'clock meeting tomorrow.
Funny how I did the first sixteen pages of this in two days, and then my father told me it wasn't good and suddenly now I can barely get one page done in an hour. Performance anxiety, anyone?
Feh.
I'd rather get a hundred thousand paper cuts on my face
Than spend one more minute with you
I'd rather rip out my intestines with a fork
Than watch you going out with other men
I'd rather slam my fingers in a door (yah)
Again and again and again and again and again
Oh, can't you see what I'm tryin' to say, Darlin...
I'd rather have my blood sucked out by leeches (leeches)
Shove an icepick under a toenail or two
I'd rather clean all the bathroom in Grand Central Station with my tongue
Than spend one more minute with you
Yes, I'd rather jump naked on a huge pile of thumbtacks
Or stick my nostrils together with crazy glue
I'd rather dive into a swimming pool filled with double-edged razor blades
Than spend one more minute with you
I'd rather rip my heart out of my ribcage with my bare hands
and then throw it on the floor and stomp on it 'till I die
Than spend one more minute with you
My father told me that the beginning of this text isn't very good, that I didn't "take enough risks" with the text. What am I, Batman? I'm a translator. I translate the text. I am not an editor. I don't do content. If I fuck too much with the words, then I change the meaning of the text, and then the author gets pissed off.
It doesn't help that this time around the author is my father (and a colleague of his: why do all profs seem to write with sixteen other profs, anyway? Doesn't it get confusing?).
*sigh*
Four more pages. I have to have this ready for a 10 o'clock meeting tomorrow.
Funny how I did the first sixteen pages of this in two days, and then my father told me it wasn't good and suddenly now I can barely get one page done in an hour. Performance anxiety, anyone?
Feh.
