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Written by Mrjdhyde

It's not personal, it's submission guidelines.

Hi kids, it’s your old friend Hyde to tell you something important about the writing game, and this is it. Are you ready? It’s not personal.

I know, you just poured your soul into a story/book/ poem/whateverthefuck and you sent your precious off like a parent sending a child off to school (I’ve done both so I know that this is true) You wait by the mail box, or keep checking your email and finally after several eons you get a reply…

Dear Budding Writer,

We are sorry to tell you but…

Signed, A.N. Editor

Yeah, we’ve all gotten that letter. You will eventually stop crying when you receive them. Or so they tell me. Yeah…

But I am here to tell you that it’s not personal. The editor doesn’t hate your baby, and probably doesn't hate you. But he’s in a business where he gets hundreds of applicants a day that means he can pick and choose.

And it is “applicants” just like applying for a job. Imagine you are hiring an employee, and you get a hundred applicants. Would you hire the first person through the door? No. You would choose the one best for your company.

Now, to up the odds that they only get the qualified applicants editors will give “submission guidelines”. Do not deviate from these. At all, ever. If you were reading the want ads and read “Bachelor's degree needed” and you only had a high school diploma you are probably wasting your time by applying. Yes, you might rock at that job with your GED and give em hell attitude but they still won’t hire you. Because they want someone with a bachelor's degree.

Now, following the submission guidelines doesn’t guarantee a published story, but it will up your odds by, well a lot. Because it will go from zero to something.

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Written by Mrjdhyde
It's not personal, it's submission guidelines.
Hi kids, it’s your old friend Hyde to tell you something important about the writing game, and this is it. Are you ready? It’s not personal.

I know, you just poured your soul into a story/book/ poem/whateverthefuck and you sent your precious off like a parent sending a child off to school (I’ve done both so I know that this is true) You wait by the mail box, or keep checking your email and finally after several eons you get a reply…

Dear Budding Writer,
We are sorry to tell you but…
Signed, A.N. Editor

Yeah, we’ve all gotten that letter. You will eventually stop crying when you receive them. Or so they tell me. Yeah…

But I am here to tell you that it’s not personal. The editor doesn’t hate your baby, and probably doesn't hate you. But he’s in a business where he gets hundreds of applicants a day that means he can pick and choose.

And it is “applicants” just like applying for a job. Imagine you are hiring an employee, and you get a hundred applicants. Would you hire the first person through the door? No. You would choose the one best for your company.

Now, to up the odds that they only get the qualified applicants editors will give “submission guidelines”. Do not deviate from these. At all, ever. If you were reading the want ads and read “Bachelor's degree needed” and you only had a high school diploma you are probably wasting your time by applying. Yes, you might rock at that job with your GED and give em hell attitude but they still won’t hire you. Because they want someone with a bachelor's degree.

Now, following the submission guidelines doesn’t guarantee a published story, but it will up your odds by, well a lot. Because it will go from zero to something.
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Written by Mrjdhyde

Little miracle

“Star light, star bright. I wish I may, I wish I might. I need a little magic in my life.” Melissa finished her chant and snubbed out her cigarette. Her hair blew in the hot night wind on the rooftop. Too old to believe in silly things like wishes, but not old enough to stop wishing. She stumbled down the stairs to her apartment, pouring the last two finger from a bottle of whiskey, she downed it in a gulp. Then laid down on the couch hoping for dreams of magic.

A bottle crashed and a yelp of “Oh fuck” woke her. she turned on the lamp and found a tall thin man on her kitchen floor. He held onto his shin rolling back and forth. “Damn girl, find a fucking trash can for these bottles. You’re going to kill someone”

Melissa ran for her phone, but there was no answer from 911, she began screaming. The man stood and snapped his fingers, suddenly no sound came from her throat. Shaking his head, “This is what I get for actually listening when people talk. You know how rare this is? Fuck lady, here I am trying to give you a fucking miracle and you set traps and scream at me? Are you a savage?”

Melissa tried talking to him in a calm tone and it worked, “Who are you?”

“I’m your guardian friggin angel.”

She had to laugh at the madman, “You’re kind of beat up for an angel.”

“Do you think my job is easy? Hell yes, I'm beating up trying to keep up with your ass. I’ve had easier assignments during the fucking crusades.”

And yes, he was very beat up. Wearing a black beanie, pea coat, and AC/DC T-shirt. he looked in dire need of a shower and a job. But the eyes gave it away, nothing natural had eyes that swirled with stars, the pupils were black holes of space. One look into them and Melissa’s budding cynicism backed into it’s shell and waited for a hippy to sneer at.

The angel popped his neck, “Ok, what was I doing before someone tried to kill me? Oh yes, I’m here to show you some magic. Orders from On High. Literally. The Creator says that we on the street need to spread some of the old miracle juice around. You know, beef up the belief glands and shit. You made a wish, a wish is a child's prayer. You made a prayer so here I am. To give you some magic.”

Melissa stared, then stared a bit more. Carefully avoiding his eyes, She remembered what happens when you stare into the abyss. He raised an eyebrow at her, “Jeez, i knew from watching out for you that you’re thick, but this may be the first time you've ever been struck dumb. So what do you want for some magic? Ye old it’s a wonderful life schtick? Some money, a fucking pony? You’re bit old for prince charming, and Christian Bale is taken. So speak up, kid.”

“Just show me magic. just show me that life is worth living.”

The messenger of God smiled for a minute, “Good for you, something worthwhile. I think that I can do that.”

He held out his hand, she put hers in it. Up they went, all the way. She dragged, dangling from his hand, she couldn’t look down. So she looked at his scarred knuckles, she wanted to ask how a celestial being got scars but then she thought about all the close calls she’d had over the years and decided not to. They landed on a cold rock.

“Don’t get too far away, it won’t go well for you. And after the Lincoln fiasco… it was a play, you need popcorn at a play! Anyway I have a performance review soon. so stick close. Ok kid, this is Luna, your moon. You wanted to learn magic is real, to see a real thing miracle. this is it.” He waved at the blue and silver ball of Earth, “That is covered in life, all of it interconnected. The odds of life appearing anywhere at any time is so high that your scientists don’t have a number for it. Yet that little blue ball has life over most of it. Billions of people, trillions of life forms. But that’s not the magic I wanted you to see. That’s not the miracle.”

“Well, where’s the miracle”

He stepped close to her, looked down to where she could no longer avoid his eyes and the cold stars that lived in them. “The miracle is that there’s an entire universe, galaxies, stars, planets, things that are can never be comprehended by the human mind. And in all that… In all the wonders of the universe… God took the time to make you.”

Melissa stood no longer entranced by his eyes, or the beauty of the Earth, but by his words. By realization. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, “I think that you understand. Let’s go home little miracle.”.  

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Written by Mrjdhyde
Little miracle
“Star light, star bright. I wish I may, I wish I might. I need a little magic in my life.” Melissa finished her chant and snubbed out her cigarette. Her hair blew in the hot night wind on the rooftop. Too old to believe in silly things like wishes, but not old enough to stop wishing. She stumbled down the stairs to her apartment, pouring the last two finger from a bottle of whiskey, she downed it in a gulp. Then laid down on the couch hoping for dreams of magic.
A bottle crashed and a yelp of “Oh fuck” woke her. she turned on the lamp and found a tall thin man on her kitchen floor. He held onto his shin rolling back and forth. “Damn girl, find a fucking trash can for these bottles. You’re going to kill someone”
Melissa ran for her phone, but there was no answer from 911, she began screaming. The man stood and snapped his fingers, suddenly no sound came from her throat. Shaking his head, “This is what I get for actually listening when people talk. You know how rare this is? Fuck lady, here I am trying to give you a fucking miracle and you set traps and scream at me? Are you a savage?”
Melissa tried talking to him in a calm tone and it worked, “Who are you?”
“I’m your guardian friggin angel.”
She had to laugh at the madman, “You’re kind of beat up for an angel.”
“Do you think my job is easy? Hell yes, I'm beating up trying to keep up with your ass. I’ve had easier assignments during the fucking crusades.”
And yes, he was very beat up. Wearing a black beanie, pea coat, and AC/DC T-shirt. he looked in dire need of a shower and a job. But the eyes gave it away, nothing natural had eyes that swirled with stars, the pupils were black holes of space. One look into them and Melissa’s budding cynicism backed into it’s shell and waited for a hippy to sneer at.
The angel popped his neck, “Ok, what was I doing before someone tried to kill me? Oh yes, I’m here to show you some magic. Orders from On High. Literally. The Creator says that we on the street need to spread some of the old miracle juice around. You know, beef up the belief glands and shit. You made a wish, a wish is a child's prayer. You made a prayer so here I am. To give you some magic.”
Melissa stared, then stared a bit more. Carefully avoiding his eyes, She remembered what happens when you stare into the abyss. He raised an eyebrow at her, “Jeez, i knew from watching out for you that you’re thick, but this may be the first time you've ever been struck dumb. So what do you want for some magic? Ye old it’s a wonderful life schtick? Some money, a fucking pony? You’re bit old for prince charming, and Christian Bale is taken. So speak up, kid.”
“Just show me magic. just show me that life is worth living.”
The messenger of God smiled for a minute, “Good for you, something worthwhile. I think that I can do that.”
He held out his hand, she put hers in it. Up they went, all the way. She dragged, dangling from his hand, she couldn’t look down. So she looked at his scarred knuckles, she wanted to ask how a celestial being got scars but then she thought about all the close calls she’d had over the years and decided not to. They landed on a cold rock.
“Don’t get too far away, it won’t go well for you. And after the Lincoln fiasco… it was a play, you need popcorn at a play! Anyway I have a performance review soon. so stick close. Ok kid, this is Luna, your moon. You wanted to learn magic is real, to see a real thing miracle. this is it.” He waved at the blue and silver ball of Earth, “That is covered in life, all of it interconnected. The odds of life appearing anywhere at any time is so high that your scientists don’t have a number for it. Yet that little blue ball has life over most of it. Billions of people, trillions of life forms. But that’s not the magic I wanted you to see. That’s not the miracle.”
“Well, where’s the miracle”
He stepped close to her, looked down to where she could no longer avoid his eyes and the cold stars that lived in them. “The miracle is that there’s an entire universe, galaxies, stars, planets, things that are can never be comprehended by the human mind. And in all that… In all the wonders of the universe… God took the time to make you.”
Melissa stood no longer entranced by his eyes, or the beauty of the Earth, but by his words. By realization. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, “I think that you understand. Let’s go home little miracle.”.  
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Written by Mrjdhyde

My first time

I remember it like it was yesterday, I was a gawky schoolboy of seventeen. I had just been dismissed from Ms Thackeray's class. I will never forget her parting words, “This is the fourth grade! Even you should have gotten this stuff by now!”

She had a drinking problem, oddly they tell me that she quit drinking once I quit school. But I digress, I had just been dismissed from class and the police were reading me my rights. I of course was standing on my rights by calling them pigs, and demanding that they return my my rag of ether.

They new that I was a relentless, true, American. So they said “He’s hopeless” and tossed me out of the car. Once I stopped rolling, I rested in the rather nice alley that I had landed in. Gathering my rag, I took a deep breath from my best friend and noticed the leprechaun. He ran to protect his gold and I gave chase. He tried to distract me and turn me from him with his lies of “I’m just short, you stoned bastard!” but I did not believe him. Leprechauns are well known liars. Alas, the tricksy elf got away. Using his magic to distract me with a squirrel.

After I escaped the glare of the evil tree rat, I walked down the sidewalk happy to be alive and to still have my ether. A car pulled up and rolled down it’s window. Inside a demon spoke, “Dude, are you ok? I’ve never seen anyone run from a chihuahua before. Dude, you are tripping balls, huh?”

Running from the demon who wanted me to trip on my balls I go into a clothing store. There I see the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Even more lovely than half price Bertha Who bills herself as “twice the woman at half the price”. What? Oh yeah the woman was tall and blonde, her clothes perfectly fitted to her. I saw her and we stared into each other's eyes. I took her and out the door ignoring the shop owner screams of bringing her back. He must have been her boyfriend.

but I took her home and made sweet love all night. It was my first time, and it was beautiful. It must have been too much for her, because she left in the night. leaving behind all of her clothes and oddly, a mannequin to put them on.   

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Written by Mrjdhyde
My first time
I remember it like it was yesterday, I was a gawky schoolboy of seventeen. I had just been dismissed from Ms Thackeray's class. I will never forget her parting words, “This is the fourth grade! Even you should have gotten this stuff by now!”
She had a drinking problem, oddly they tell me that she quit drinking once I quit school. But I digress, I had just been dismissed from class and the police were reading me my rights. I of course was standing on my rights by calling them pigs, and demanding that they return my my rag of ether.
They new that I was a relentless, true, American. So they said “He’s hopeless” and tossed me out of the car. Once I stopped rolling, I rested in the rather nice alley that I had landed in. Gathering my rag, I took a deep breath from my best friend and noticed the leprechaun. He ran to protect his gold and I gave chase. He tried to distract me and turn me from him with his lies of “I’m just short, you stoned bastard!” but I did not believe him. Leprechauns are well known liars. Alas, the tricksy elf got away. Using his magic to distract me with a squirrel.
After I escaped the glare of the evil tree rat, I walked down the sidewalk happy to be alive and to still have my ether. A car pulled up and rolled down it’s window. Inside a demon spoke, “Dude, are you ok? I’ve never seen anyone run from a chihuahua before. Dude, you are tripping balls, huh?”
Running from the demon who wanted me to trip on my balls I go into a clothing store. There I see the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Even more lovely than half price Bertha Who bills herself as “twice the woman at half the price”. What? Oh yeah the woman was tall and blonde, her clothes perfectly fitted to her. I saw her and we stared into each other's eyes. I took her and out the door ignoring the shop owner screams of bringing her back. He must have been her boyfriend.
but I took her home and made sweet love all night. It was my first time, and it was beautiful. It must have been too much for her, because she left in the night. leaving behind all of her clothes and oddly, a mannequin to put them on.   
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Another step

Such a sweet little thing, He could rest his chin on her head if he wanted; easily pick her up and carry her. Which he often did when on those late nights when they lit candles and drank wine until she fell asleep on his shoulder.

“Just right for kissing” he would claim. When they danced he would put a hand around her waist and barely have to lean when he whispered to tell her she was beautiful. They would often dance in the kitchen when he came home covered in grease, or sawdust if he could get the work. She still worked hard trying to take some of his load. And he never forgot to tell her that he knew how lucky he was.

Tonight the grease was thick on his hands, but she smiled at the prints left on her blouse. He wanted to fall to his knees from exhaustion.

But instead, he just got on one. He opened the box that he worked long hours for. In this box was a dream. It looked like a gold ring with a tiny diamond, but it wasn’t. It was a dream. The dream of two people who had hope blossom on a doorstep. That hope bloomed to this moment. he looked up into a smile, that was a dream come true.  

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Written by Mrjdhyde
Another step
Such a sweet little thing, He could rest his chin on her head if he wanted; easily pick her up and carry her. Which he often did when on those late nights when they lit candles and drank wine until she fell asleep on his shoulder.
“Just right for kissing” he would claim. When they danced he would put a hand around her waist and barely have to lean when he whispered to tell her she was beautiful. They would often dance in the kitchen when he came home covered in grease, or sawdust if he could get the work. She still worked hard trying to take some of his load. And he never forgot to tell her that he knew how lucky he was.
Tonight the grease was thick on his hands, but she smiled at the prints left on her blouse. He wanted to fall to his knees from exhaustion.
But instead, he just got on one. He opened the box that he worked long hours for. In this box was a dream. It looked like a gold ring with a tiny diamond, but it wasn’t. It was a dream. The dream of two people who had hope blossom on a doorstep. That hope bloomed to this moment. he looked up into a smile, that was a dream come true.  
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Written by Mrjdhyde

Hey pretty...

I held the door for a young woman today, She said “Thank you” I smiled and nodded. She was extremely annoyed with me. She glared “You’re Welcome!”

I looked at her then I got it. She’s pretty. She has learned to expect to be treated more polite than us mere mortals. She is treated special everywhere she goes, and for me to not notice… well, that’s just rude of me.

Ah, But I know what the future holds for the pretty ones. I’ve seen it time and time again. I’m no Cassandra, I have just paid attention. And now for a handful of dust I can tell her what the future holds.

Right now, she’s twenty. All the boys flock to buy her a drink, hoping that she will bless them for the night. or even a few minutes in the backseat. but thirty comes in a hurry. And thirty bring light lines around the eyes, some sag on her breasts, and a whole new flock of twenties to compete with.

The new twenties will not let such an old woman play in their sandbox. And the boy twenties want the fresh meat. So she will have to find a new place, with dimmer lights.

No college boys here, unless it’s for some desperate MILF action. Here it’s men who are paying child support and running away from mistakes. Too many nights in these kind of places have left their mark in his eyes and his expanding belly. But soon little miss pretty is too old for this place.

And she will find another place to be the new girl. At forty she will find herself trying to lose the last twenty years. Exercise clubs and girl’s night out. Gone are the dreams of the prince on his white horse. Now, she wants someone who will stay all night. Someone without a tan line on his ring finger. Small dreams to replace the ones she burned through in her youth.

Should I tell her of fifty? Of the long cold nights alone? Of hiding age with dyes, and thicker and thicker makeup?

No, not today… I will let her be the pretty one. Because she won't be tomorrow.   

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Written by Mrjdhyde
Hey pretty...
I held the door for a young woman today, She said “Thank you” I smiled and nodded. She was extremely annoyed with me. She glared “You’re Welcome!”
I looked at her then I got it. She’s pretty. She has learned to expect to be treated more polite than us mere mortals. She is treated special everywhere she goes, and for me to not notice… well, that’s just rude of me.
Ah, But I know what the future holds for the pretty ones. I’ve seen it time and time again. I’m no Cassandra, I have just paid attention. And now for a handful of dust I can tell her what the future holds.
Right now, she’s twenty. All the boys flock to buy her a drink, hoping that she will bless them for the night. or even a few minutes in the backseat. but thirty comes in a hurry. And thirty bring light lines around the eyes, some sag on her breasts, and a whole new flock of twenties to compete with.
The new twenties will not let such an old woman play in their sandbox. And the boy twenties want the fresh meat. So she will have to find a new place, with dimmer lights.
No college boys here, unless it’s for some desperate MILF action. Here it’s men who are paying child support and running away from mistakes. Too many nights in these kind of places have left their mark in his eyes and his expanding belly. But soon little miss pretty is too old for this place.
And she will find another place to be the new girl. At forty she will find herself trying to lose the last twenty years. Exercise clubs and girl’s night out. Gone are the dreams of the prince on his white horse. Now, she wants someone who will stay all night. Someone without a tan line on his ring finger. Small dreams to replace the ones she burned through in her youth.
Should I tell her of fifty? Of the long cold nights alone? Of hiding age with dyes, and thicker and thicker makeup?
No, not today… I will let her be the pretty one. Because she won't be tomorrow.   
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A first date.

The grease was still under his nails from his day job, but he had found his best shirt in the back of the closet. It still had creases from being hung for so long. He had gone without lunch for a week for this dinner. A small cafe, but so big for his budget.

Her hair was breaking loose from it’s bun. Her feet hurt from long hours in another cafe. She had kids waiting, and an ex-husband who was going to be pissed but she was enjoying the awkward small talk that her date was giving. He was so sweet; shy, nothing like the loud business men who were constantly slipping their phone numbers into her apron. While they hoped that she wouldn’t notice their wedding rings.

He walked her to her door and stood there with his hands in his pockets, like a boy who had been coached by his mother. He seemed not quite sure what to say next. She wanted to cry looking at him. So nervous for her, She couldn’t remember anyone ever being nervous on a date with her.

It took her back to her dates in high school, and how she always dreamed that a date should be. He may not know what to do, but being a woman, she does.

She leaned in and kissed him, on the lips like two children. he smiled and kissed her back. It started small, but it bloomed into something magical. When they broke away there was something between them that neither had seen in a long time.

It was a small spark of hope. He stood there not knowing what to do with such a strange thing in his life. But being a woman, she knew. She blew life into the small, strange spark with five magic words “May I see you again?” 

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Written by Mrjdhyde
A first date.
The grease was still under his nails from his day job, but he had found his best shirt in the back of the closet. It still had creases from being hung for so long. He had gone without lunch for a week for this dinner. A small cafe, but so big for his budget.
Her hair was breaking loose from it’s bun. Her feet hurt from long hours in another cafe. She had kids waiting, and an ex-husband who was going to be pissed but she was enjoying the awkward small talk that her date was giving. He was so sweet; shy, nothing like the loud business men who were constantly slipping their phone numbers into her apron. While they hoped that she wouldn’t notice their wedding rings.
He walked her to her door and stood there with his hands in his pockets, like a boy who had been coached by his mother. He seemed not quite sure what to say next. She wanted to cry looking at him. So nervous for her, She couldn’t remember anyone ever being nervous on a date with her.
It took her back to her dates in high school, and how she always dreamed that a date should be. He may not know what to do, but being a woman, she does.
She leaned in and kissed him, on the lips like two children. he smiled and kissed her back. It started small, but it bloomed into something magical. When they broke away there was something between them that neither had seen in a long time.
It was a small spark of hope. He stood there not knowing what to do with such a strange thing in his life. But being a woman, she knew. She blew life into the small, strange spark with five magic words “May I see you again?” 
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The cover letter to my resume. (Yes, really.)

Why JD Hyde is the magnificent MoFo for you.

Hi, I’m JD Hyde and I am a magnificent MoFo looking for a job, and I heard that you are looking for a an employee who fits such a description. I believe I am that man. But I am sure that you have heard many claims of being magnificent in the last few days, so I need to back that sh!t up.

A) I can cook. Really, I enjoy that sh!t. I like going into the kitchen saying to myself, “You are broke, you have four ingredients and need to feed your kid. Time to Macgyver some dinner.”

And I’ve only killed two people in my kitchen. But those people sucked so they don’t even count, right?

B) I fix sh!t. What? That’s right I fix sh!t. Say your freezer stops freezing, what do you do? You gotta call the repairman. Not if I’m there. I stare at it for a few minutes and say “I need to Google something.” Then with a rubber band, and some bubble gum I fix said freezer. (I get paid for fixing sh!t at my side job.)

3) I’m a writer. Dude, say that you are bored at home I can send you a horror story, maybe some sci-fi, Or if the kids won’t go to sleep I can send them​ a bedtime story. Or if your wife is all pissed off over a misunderstanding (totally not your fault I’m sure) I can write up some poetry that will tell her how big of a dumb ass you are, and how sorry you are for ever doing what you obviously didn’t do.

%) I rock a tie. That’s right, I can dress. A silk tie, and button down shirt would totally bring a little class. I throw on my beat up biker jacket over that just to show people that I can rock and roll with the best of them.

0) I can dance. Think about it, a dude with rhythm is always nice when you are working as a team. Plus, at a party I can liven that sh!t up.

2) I rarely drink. I know what you are thinking, “Why would I want someone like that around?” Because a Designated Driver is always nice to have around when The Man shows up at a gathering. A sober guy who can say, “What officer? Oh no, these nice young people would never drink and drive!”

!) I never partake the botanicals. Once again, you are thinking “Why would I want some dude who doesn’t fire up?” A good reason, Nay a very good reason! Your stash is safe. That’s right, if I don’t smoke then you don’t have to share. More smoke for you. Yeah, that makes sense now, huh?

2247) I am a funny dude. I got lots of funny stories. I can tell you about the time I caught my kid taking a leak behind the couch. And admit it, you want to hear about that.

I actually have thousands of other reason of why I’m the magnificent MoFo for you, but I don’t want to overwhelm you with my awesomeness. Thank you for taking the time to read. If you would like more information please email me a reply.  

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The cover letter to my resume. (Yes, really.)
Why JD Hyde is the magnificent MoFo for you.

Hi, I’m JD Hyde and I am a magnificent MoFo looking for a job, and I heard that you are looking for a an employee who fits such a description. I believe I am that man. But I am sure that you have heard many claims of being magnificent in the last few days, so I need to back that sh!t up.
A) I can cook. Really, I enjoy that sh!t. I like going into the kitchen saying to myself, “You are broke, you have four ingredients and need to feed your kid. Time to Macgyver some dinner.”
And I’ve only killed two people in my kitchen. But those people sucked so they don’t even count, right?
B) I fix sh!t. What? That’s right I fix sh!t. Say your freezer stops freezing, what do you do? You gotta call the repairman. Not if I’m there. I stare at it for a few minutes and say “I need to Google something.” Then with a rubber band, and some bubble gum I fix said freezer. (I get paid for fixing sh!t at my side job.)
3) I’m a writer. Dude, say that you are bored at home I can send you a horror story, maybe some sci-fi, Or if the kids won’t go to sleep I can send them​ a bedtime story. Or if your wife is all pissed off over a misunderstanding (totally not your fault I’m sure) I can write up some poetry that will tell her how big of a dumb ass you are, and how sorry you are for ever doing what you obviously didn’t do.
%) I rock a tie. That’s right, I can dress. A silk tie, and button down shirt would totally bring a little class. I throw on my beat up biker jacket over that just to show people that I can rock and roll with the best of them.
0) I can dance. Think about it, a dude with rhythm is always nice when you are working as a team. Plus, at a party I can liven that sh!t up.
2) I rarely drink. I know what you are thinking, “Why would I want someone like that around?” Because a Designated Driver is always nice to have around when The Man shows up at a gathering. A sober guy who can say, “What officer? Oh no, these nice young people would never drink and drive!”
!) I never partake the botanicals. Once again, you are thinking “Why would I want some dude who doesn’t fire up?” A good reason, Nay a very good reason! Your stash is safe. That’s right, if I don’t smoke then you don’t have to share. More smoke for you. Yeah, that makes sense now, huh?
2247) I am a funny dude. I got lots of funny stories. I can tell you about the time I caught my kid taking a leak behind the couch. And admit it, you want to hear about that.
I actually have thousands of other reason of why I’m the magnificent MoFo for you, but I don’t want to overwhelm you with my awesomeness. Thank you for taking the time to read. If you would like more information please email me a reply.  
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Written by Mrjdhyde

Maria and the woman in white

The forest had started to become dark since Maria ran away. She had broken her father's favorite cup and knew that Papi would be angry, so she had put on her Sunday dress and set out with her doll to live in the woods. She hoped that Papi and Mama would come find her soon.

Maria had beeen walking for what seemed like forever when she heard the voice. It sounded like her Mama, but when she ran towards it Maria found nothing but the river. She sat on the river bank and tears flowed down her cheeks.

'Why do you cry, little one?" said a voice that sounded like her Mama's. Maria turned to find a beautiful woman in a white dress. The woman looked as if she had been crying too. The little girl poured the story out at the woman. How she had broken Papi's cup, had ran away, gotten lost, and was now afraid of never seeing her parents again.

The woman gave a sad smile, "I understand, you must have been very scared. Luckily I found you. We can go to my house, and you can play with my children for the night."

Maria thought about this, but then remembered what her parents had told her about going with strangers. "I think my Mama would be very upset if she found out that I was at a stranger's house."

The woman in white smiled her sad smile again, "Don't worry, you can come play with my children. I will see that your parents find you in the morning." Then she picked Maria up in her arms, when the child struggled to get away the woman in white held her tighter and walked into the the river. "Yes, I will make sure that they find you.". 

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Written by Mrjdhyde
Maria and the woman in white
The forest had started to become dark since Maria ran away. She had broken her father's favorite cup and knew that Papi would be angry, so she had put on her Sunday dress and set out with her doll to live in the woods. She hoped that Papi and Mama would come find her soon.
Maria had beeen walking for what seemed like forever when she heard the voice. It sounded like her Mama, but when she ran towards it Maria found nothing but the river. She sat on the river bank and tears flowed down her cheeks.
'Why do you cry, little one?" said a voice that sounded like her Mama's. Maria turned to find a beautiful woman in a white dress. The woman looked as if she had been crying too. The little girl poured the story out at the woman. How she had broken Papi's cup, had ran away, gotten lost, and was now afraid of never seeing her parents again.
The woman gave a sad smile, "I understand, you must have been very scared. Luckily I found you. We can go to my house, and you can play with my children for the night."
Maria thought about this, but then remembered what her parents had told her about going with strangers. "I think my Mama would be very upset if she found out that I was at a stranger's house."
The woman in white smiled her sad smile again, "Don't worry, you can come play with my children. I will see that your parents find you in the morning." Then she picked Maria up in her arms, when the child struggled to get away the woman in white held her tighter and walked into the the river. "Yes, I will make sure that they find you.". 
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Written by Mrjdhyde

A small bud on the tips

Bringing life to the lips

(Of children)

The dark ends

Bringing pleasure to men

(And women)

Will bring a smile to your face

As they find their place

(If you're lucky)

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Written by Mrjdhyde
A small bud on the tips
Bringing life to the lips
(Of children)
The dark ends
Bringing pleasure to men
(And women)
Will bring a smile to your face
As they find their place
(If you're lucky)
14
3
3
Juice
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Written by Mrjdhyde

How to get a haircut.

  You know that guy who walks into a room and everyone smiles, the women want to talk to him? Guess what? You can be that guy.

No, I don't want you to give up your video games, or give me money. There's nothing in it for me. Other than never again hearing the phrase, “I don't know why I can't meet anyone.”

We are going to start with the basics.

Haircuts.

Here's how to get a haircut… walk into a stylist. Sit down in the chair. Say the words, “Save this poor benighted bastard.” Then let them work.

No, you don't have an opinion nor an idea about how you want your hair. Men having an opinion about fashion is what caused disco. We cannot let that happen again.

I know a guy who has amazing salt and pepper hair, it sticks out like he's being tasered.

Why? Because he had an opinion about it. Now, he has just been shaving his head for years. And single for years. Luckily the fad of shaving the pate is leaving us. Because there's only three reasons to shave your head.

1)you're joining the military.

2) you're going bald. And the only option is shaved. Combovers are never an option!

3) you're fighting Superman, or storming castle Greyskull.

Choosing a stylist.

I always go with either a homosexual man or a straight woman.

Why, you ask? Because they will do my hair in a way that makes me look sexually attractive. And that's the point. A straight guy doesn't know if I'm hot or not. I may as well get his thoughts on tampons. He knows just as much about that. 

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Written by Mrjdhyde
How to get a haircut.
  You know that guy who walks into a room and everyone smiles, the women want to talk to him? Guess what? You can be that guy.
No, I don't want you to give up your video games, or give me money. There's nothing in it for me. Other than never again hearing the phrase, “I don't know why I can't meet anyone.”
We are going to start with the basics.


Haircuts.


Here's how to get a haircut… walk into a stylist. Sit down in the chair. Say the words, “Save this poor benighted bastard.” Then let them work.
No, you don't have an opinion nor an idea about how you want your hair. Men having an opinion about fashion is what caused disco. We cannot let that happen again.
I know a guy who has amazing salt and pepper hair, it sticks out like he's being tasered.
Why? Because he had an opinion about it. Now, he has just been shaving his head for years. And single for years. Luckily the fad of shaving the pate is leaving us. Because there's only three reasons to shave your head.
1)you're joining the military.
2) you're going bald. And the only option is shaved. Combovers are never an option!
3) you're fighting Superman, or storming castle Greyskull.

Choosing a stylist.
I always go with either a homosexual man or a straight woman.
Why, you ask? Because they will do my hair in a way that makes me look sexually attractive. And that's the point. A straight guy doesn't know if I'm hot or not. I may as well get his thoughts on tampons. He knows just as much about that. 
15
8
3
Juice
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