Fuck. I spent more time on that damn troll today.
But… it’s for the cause, for fuck’s sake.
I was gonna leave her alone… but one of my spies told me she deleted a bunch of my comments on her post and re-engineered it to make herself look clever.
Which means I had to out her. (check my Insta)
And then eat her heart.
Which, is one of the benefits of this entire approach…
That is: disclosing flaws, posting unpolished talking videos, etc.
When you get in front of all your bullshit, and you lay it out for the world to see, no one can ever use it against you.
Which gives you free reign to do and say whatever the hell you want.
People will forgive you for everything you disclose up front.
Everyone is fucked up, and they understand.
But what they won’t forgive you for is when you bullshit and hide stuff that they discover later.
Like, I had no problem going straight at this twatwaffle. I have nothing to worry about.
She’s the one who’s got shit to hide.
That’s why she’s fucking afraid.
That’s why she won’t let anyone except her carefully curated friends see what she’s saying.
Good thing I have eyes fucking everywhere.
Check this shit out… this is the bullshit she’s feeding her followers.
Let’s think about what I’m really teaching here.
1. talk into a camera a lot to practice confident communication. post that shit to add risk.
2. build a relationship with an email list. (don’t rely on social media platforms)
3. get over your perfectionist tendencies and show people what you got.
THE NERVE ON THIS FUCKING GUY, RIGHT?
They’re better off just staying fucking quiet… because anyone who comes at me now is going to get fucking ROASTED.
If you are useful to me, I will hang your ass out to dry and fucking make money with the show.
So step the fuck back and work on your own shit.
PS – tomorrow is The Purge.
There are no rules. Just UNFOLLOW AS MANY ASSHOLES AS YOU CAN.
PPS – I’m gonna try to use “cockgobbler” and “twatwaffle” in every email for the next ten days.
I failed you.
I was working on a fucking SICK email this morning, listening to my writing playlist on Spotify, having a good ‘ol time – when I made the world’s worst mistake:
☠️ Looking at my GD Instagram notifications. ☠️
I was tagged in a post from someone I’d never heard of before.
Rather, she was trolling people who are making RTV’s.
If it were just about me, I would have ignored her like I do 99% of them.
But she’s friends with my friends and some Rabbit Hole peeps. They follow each other ’n stuff.
So I couldn’t let that shit stand.
Well, I suppose I could have… she’s just some irrelevant nobody, after all.
But my pride got the best of me.
And I got into a Comment War with this cockgobbling twatwaffle.
It was dumb.
I know better.
And I kept going back for more.
Anyway, there is nothing of value in this email other than me saying:
I’ll finish up what I was going to send today, tomorrow.
This shit won’t happen again.
PS – this is Day 23(?) of #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. THere’s a bunch more at ryanorrico.com
PPS – make sure you’re signed up for The Purge. It’s on Sunday.
PPS – these are dope:
THIS IS YOUR EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM… ANNOUNCING THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE ANNUAL PURGE.
AT THE END OF THE COUNTDOWN, ALL SOCIAL/SOCIAL MEDIA ETIQUETTE/RULES WILL BE DISMISSED.
****This will work faster than anything else I know of…
You have to get rid of the assholes that make you feel shitty on social media.
Some of them might even be your “friends.”
I know you may feel guilty about it, but seriously… they’re getting in your way.
You gotta get rid of em.
So… on Sunday, July 22, WE PURGE.
Starting at 8am, you’ll have 12 hours to purge.
During this time, there is no such thing as social/social media etiquette. No concerns about “hurting someones feelings.” Just….
Start with anyone who meets these criteria
Fuck your guilt. And fuck them too.
They don’t give a fuck about you – they literally just fucking click ‘Like’ on their comments and don’t respond.
They can eat fucking dicks. Unfollow.
Focus on your own shit.
You’re missing a huge opportunity with social media if you let these fucking cockgobblers get in your way****
Check in HERE
EMERGENCY BROADCAST END
You’re lucky I didn’t cut you off after that shit you just pulled while I was writing that last email.
But god dammit, I want to finish my thought.
Really, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to just point this out to you, but fuck it:
You need to speak with more fucking conviction.
Especially if you want the influence that you say you want.
And you fucking know it.
If you want to be able to change some shit and really make a difference, that weak shit you’re getting away with now just ain’t gonna cut it.
I mean, I’m talking about #randomtalkingvideo, yes… but I’m also just talking in general.
In real-life and on the internet.
You have to be able to lean into it and sell [your ideas/products/services] from your toes… not backing up on your heels.
And I don’t just mean with your business… it doesn’t matter what your agenda is: political, personal, relational, philanthropic – you lack fucking conviction.
And while we’re at it: boldness.
You have to fucking develop these things. You have to practice them.
And I know you know a bunch of cool shit about this already,… but you’re not fucking doing anything about it.
You gotta get in the fucking ring. Every day.
And that’s why I love me some 60-Second Talking Videos.
They’re portable and free and easy and fast.
It’s instant access to a ‘simulated’ (but not really) high-risk social environment for you to practice shaping your ideas – with your personality on the line… when it’s risky.
It’s fucking big time.
It’s not enough to fucking toil in private with your little meditation cushion and yoga mat and sage.
The point is you speaking “your truth” or whatever the fuck you want to call it and not allowing anyone to influence you.
Whether they’re physically in the same room with you while you’re making the video… or the FantasyLand you’ve created in your mind about who’s watching on the other end and what they’re saying about you.
Cuz that shit is always going to be there… and it will only get worse when you start tackling bigger problems.
But you and I both know that those bigger problems/opportunities aren’t even going to present themselves to you if you’re not doing the work… you won’t even see them.
Me and you right now:
Or at least protect yourself from BEING purged by educating yourself on the new code-of-conduct.
PPS – this is day 22 (I think) of #30daysofthesefuckingemails. And I just sent two god dammit. There are a bunch more at ryanorrico.com
just pretending. that you just aren’t ready to really blow your stuff up.
and that’s why you haven’t.
And something about you being too scared to ask for money?
I mean… is she right?
you seriously are more worried about the way your Insta page looks than actually making it do what you want it to do?
Cuz you know damn well that shit you got goin’ on now isn’t working.
And you know that everything I’m telling you to do will work.
You already know. You know I’m right, and that’s why I’m so fucking annoying.
Still, you won’t even take a god damn risk with your FUCKING INSTAGRAM?
Holy shit, what the hell is that?
How in the fuck are you gonna do ANYTHING ever?
Anything real, at least.
It’s legit the safest thing you can do, AND you know it will be good for you,but you can’t get over your self for 5minutes to just do it when you don’t want to?
Damn, that’s some sorry shit.
I feel bad for you.
It’s like you don’t even get it AT ALL.
Any of it.
I should just end this email right now.
In fact, I am.
PS – no fucking PS for you. This shit is for creative people only.
hey, it’s you, Future you – from next Monday. July, 23rd.
I’m not exactly feeling like myself today, so I might use some words that we don’t typically use. But trust me, it’s you. Er, me.
Mostly, just wanted to say Thanks for unfollowing, unfriending and unsubscribing from all of those cockgobblers yesterday during The Purge.
Really smart idea.
How many were you going for? Cuz when I looked at Insta earlier, I was like “daaammmmnnnnnnn, go you, it’s ya birfday.”
And I just gotta say: The Purge is a brilliant idea from a brilliant mind… and only a brilliant mind can recognize that. So I applaud you… er, us.
Game recognize game.
Anyways, that’s pretty much it. Just wanted to shout you out.
There’s still work to do, but I’ve been mindlessly scrolling Instagram wayyyy less today.
And when I do find myself getting lost in some moron’s “inspirational” FantasyLand, I snap out of it and focus on my own shit.
I recognized that they weren’t inspiring me at all. That all they were doing was using seduction and guilt to keep me around, and I was just using them as an excuse for feeling shitty and not getting anything done.
(I’m gonna do more Purging this week, because yes, I probably left a few of those twatwaffles in there. 🤦🏻♂️)
But still, this was HUGE.
I mean, fuck, we were just thinking about ‘quitting Instagram’ a little bit ago.
But then that sexy motherfucker Ryan Orrico made me realize that I need to clean out the shit-traps and Unfollow the dickbags.
The tool itself is really fucking powerful… for both marketing and developing ourselves as leaders. It would be stupid to quit because we were letting some random fucking shitbird ruin it for us.
Anyway – excellent idea to sign-up for The Purge… because damn, I will never forget Sunday, July 22nd, 2018.
That shit was amazing. You da fuckin’ best.
– You, on Monday.
PS – I think this is Day 22 of Ryan’s #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. There are a bunch more at ryanorrico.com.
PPS – he posted this video today… dude is just operating on a whole ‘nother level.
PPPS – and he’s definitely right about this. Good thing he’s not talking about us.
I was supposed to have sent this like 7 hours ago. FUCK.
Sorry. My bad.
How nice would that have been, though?
I could be sitting on the sand right now, watching the sunset over the Santa Monica Pier. (I do get to see it through my window, but still…)
I could be reading my Kindle.
Or having a cocktail.
Or laying in bed, taking some corny ass yoga teachers to school on Instagram.
Damn, that sounds so fucking tasty.
And it was indeed my plan.
… to have sat down early this morning, when I was scheduled to write, and for genius and fire to flow from my fingertips and into your inbox.
It just didn’t happen.
I did sit down to write when I was scheduled to write… and I pumped out a bunch of stuff.
But I never found That Feeling.
That Feeling I chase when I write these emails.
This weird giddy, mischievous feeling.
That Feeling where i’m self-amused, and laughing, and excited, and my fingers barely can keep up with my mind because I just want to Send the damn thing NOW.
When I feel That Feeling, I know I got me a winner… I know that no matter what happens, I’m gonna have a chill night because I fucking poured it out and I hit all the right notes.
When I don’t feel That Feeling, I stress that it won’t “bite.”
That people will get bored.
That my mystique will wear off…
I go through this every fucking time.
I just try to remind myself that I can’t control what I’m thinking about – or what kind of mood i’m in – or if I’m feeling “inspired.”
But there are two things that I CAN control…
Which just so happen to be the two things that make the biggest impact on whether or not my writing A.) gets done — and B.) with the least amount of self-hatred.
Those two things are:
1. JUST FUCKING STARTING. Even if I just start with a blank page and writing “holy fuck, I don’t want to do this right now. I’d rather do anything else. But I have to do this cuz I said I was gonna do this. My name is Ryan. I’m a god damn stud.” etc.
2. NOT LOOKING AT MY MOTHER FUCKING PHONE FOR AT LEAST 20 MINUTES.
Like right now – I am ACTIVELY fighting my urge to pick up my phone and check my Purge video.
DANGER. DANGER. DANGER.
I cannot let that urge win.
I WILL NOT let that urge win.
It’s like I don’t want to confront the shitty feeling that comes with the words not coming and I use my phone for momentary relief.
But you know what will happen.
I’ll find some Instaprick and start getting mad at them for making it look easy.
Or I’ll get jealous that they appear more organized and on top of their shit.
But I know damn well that isn’t the case.
I’m sure there are folks out there that think the same thing about me.
Well… you’re right about a lot of that shit.
But it isn’t easy.
And it isn’t 12 inches.
But I Rygress.
Here’s the deal:
Once I actually sat down and started writing… and fuck, just as importantly: STOPPED LOOKING AT MY FUCKING PHONE.
It started to gel.
Is it a masterpiece?
Of course it is.
Do I know have more to give?
Of course I fuckin do. That’s what tomorrow is for. And the day after that.
But at least now, I have another winning reference experience.
Another time I can point to and be like
So that’s p sweet.
PPPS – And if you’ve ever wondered why I say “talking videos in your IG Stories are NOT the same as posting on your feed,” this video is for you.
PPP-motherfucking-PS – this is Day 21 of #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. There are a bunch more at ryanorrico.com.
it ain’t coming tonight.
I’ve written god damn near 5000 words, and I can’t find the thread I’m looking for.
And fuck it, man… I’ve been steady blowing minds for a while. I’m taking the night off and linking you up to the genius I posted on Insta today:
I wanted to write about her today, but I couldn’t find the words… so I’ll probably do it tomorrow.
Some people have told me they noticed that I turned into a bigger dick after that day.
I think I just became less tolerant to idiots and their bullshit.
I just ain’t got the time.
Do or say dumb shit, and I’m gonna fuck your world up.
I’d rather know that I said what needed saying than regret it on my final day.
Just don’t be a fucking cockgobbler and you’ll be fine.
PS – I’m pretty sure this is Day 20 of #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. There’s a shit ton of these things up at ryanorrico.com
PPS – I’m catching up on email by the end of this week… there’s a shit ton.
You know what your fucking problem is?
I mean really.
It’s for sure why you don’t already have what you want.
I don’t even need to be there to tell you what it is. I can fucking smell it on you from here:
You don’t do the hard shit unless you’re in the mood for it.
The stuff you don’t like… you need to be “inspired.”
As if that’s actually a thing.
Your addiction to inspiration and motivation is ruining you.
You sit around waiting for them like you ordered some shit from Amazon… looking out your window, waiting for the delivery.
You don’t just do it when you don’t really want to… or when you’re not “feeling it.”
I mean, I know, I know – you workout or do yoga or whatever when you “don’t want to.”
And that’s cool. Good for fuckin’ you… you “unroll your mat” #everydamnday. SUCH A WARRIOR.
That shit is safe.
I mean, fuck, what’s the worse that’s gonna happen… you hurt some muscles? awwww, poor baby.
Fuck that shit.
How about taking some real fucking risk when you don’t want to…
Lay your god damn identity and personality on the line when you don’t want to.
Create something and publish it when you don’t want to.
You know damn well that once you start going down that spiral, it’s hard to get back out… and you ain’t gonna do shit.
So you can’t let your mood or thoughts get in the way of you just doing the actual things that are gonna get you where you wanna go:
The writing, the videos, the teaching, the speaking, the marketing, whatever. All that shit.
Doing it when you DON’T WANT TO is the only way you’re ever gonna get anything done.
I think we’ve had enough “self-care” time, yeah?
You licked your wounds long enough, snowflake.
Let’s rub some dirt on that shit and get back out there.
Maybe you’re not ready for the big leagues right now, and that’s ok…
Write some god damn emails and send ‘em to a few people. Share what you’re working on. Make some offers.
ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU DON’T WANT TO.
Get at me if I can help.
(I’m down to 289 emails to respond to… I promise I’m coming.)
I read them all.
PS – I had to call this dude out earlier. You have to start calling motherfuckers out by name… fuck this vague, anonymous ass bullshit. If they’re doing it wrong… barbecue them.
PPS – this is Day I don’t even fuckin know… 19? of #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. A bunch more are at ryanorrico.com
my first attempt at advertising was an abysmal failure. shit is kind of embarrassing.
but I didn’t know wtf I was doing. I was 21 years old and freshly fired from my job as a personal trainer at Lifetime Fitness.
(I refused to clean equipment when I wasn’t with clients. Like, eat shit, fuckface.. go get one of the minimum wage kids to do it. 🏼)
…it was a blessing in disguise, though. That firing forced me to start my own shit, and I took the few clients I had and began training them in their homes.
Which may or may not have ruined a marriage or four. 🤦🏻♂️ (“HEY MAN, SHE CAME ON TO ME!”) [they did. ]
Bad decisions aside, the travelin’ trainer schedule was just too much to manage.
Driving all over town, dragging a fucking bench and a set of 50lb. PowerBlocks into and out of peoples homes all night sucked.
So I was like “fuck this.”
I made a crappy flyer and printed thousands of them with my Mom’s printer.(def using her ink cartridges)
And I went about the business of papering the entire town of Tinley Park, IL.
Doorknobs and windshields, baby.
All of them.
One person called me.
Out of fucking thousands.
That’s like a fucking .0001% conversion?
Not good. Not good at all.
Her name is Cathy.
I trained her in my Mom’s garage for $30 per hour. (my Dad used to come out there in the middle of a session, in his robe, to get cans of Pepsi ’n shit. 🤦🏻♂️)
But whatever. The shitty squat rack and dumbbells still worked.
She got the results she wanted.
Then she brought a friend.
And that friend referred two friends.
And they were all referring more and more… so eventually, I took the Original Three and said:
“you guys should go get certified so you can get insurance and start training these people yourselves. I’ll rent a warehouse, fill it with equipment, and show you how to do it.”
(I was never certified to be a personal trainer. Not for a fucking day. No one ever asked.)
Didn’t stop me from changing the lives of hundreds of people and eventually hiring and training other trainers and opening a gym called Fit Happens.
I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to do that.
My advertising fucking sucked, for sure, though.
I just didn’t know what else to do. 🤷🏻♂️
So I kept on with the flyers, every damn day, until Cathy finally called.
Then I focused intently on her and got her what she wanted because I intuitively understood that if her body changed, she would become my advertising.
As an aside, that’s seriously one of the best things about offering a service that changes someone’s body composition: they are fucking WALKING BILLBOARDS.
But a few months later – after I started paying rent and payroll, I realized I didn’t want to be relying on referrals anymore.
I don’t like not being able to control the money. Or the intake of new clients.
I wanted to be able to get them when I wanted them.
So one night, I googled “marketing.”
And I started studying. And buying courses. And books. And seminars and DVDs. And everything I could get my hands on.
I didn’t know shit, but I was sharing what I was learning on Twitter. (before it was popular and noisy)
Valerie Waters saw one of my tweets. (she was in fitness magazines training celebrities ’n shit every month, so I was like “damn!”)
A month later, I sold my gym and moved to LA to do all of Valerie’s marketing and product development… I was in way fucking over my head.
Figured it out though.
Did that for five years along with a whole bunch of consulting.
Valerie was the one who introduced me to yoga.
Which led to me becoming a yoga teacher.
And eventually, The Best Yoga Teacher in The World.
And Yoga Sex Rock God.
And soon, the President of the United States of Rymerica.
PS – this is Day 18 of #30daysofthesefuckingemails, Round 2. There’s a bunch more at ryanorrico.com.
PPS – if you’re not already in Rabbit Hole – you will want to be on the waiting list, for sure.
Something is happening.
Too many people are buying it now, so imma have to raise the price soon.
I could double that revenue by just making it $10.