No job? I need an intern!

As of today, I’ve been unemployed for about ten months, so I need to do something drastic: I’m gonna hire an intern.

No, not like Kramer did on “Seinfeld”–give me a little more creative credit, folks.

Also, I think “hire” is the wrong term.

For those of you interested in applying, I have some strict rules. The main one is, you can’t be under 30. Actually, 30 is pushing it, so it’s best to be closer to the mid- to late-30s. You’re not allowed to wear skinny jeans, Converse All-Stars tennis shoes, have ironic facial hair, wear patchouli, or have a hairstyle that even remotely resembles this:

Horrible, just horrible.

Or, this:

It’s simple: McCrabass has good hair and so should you.

Other requirements: You’re over 30, therefore, you should not be into either Zac Efron or Justin Bieber. If you are, go away. Now. Your kids can be into them, but their pre-moisty tastes do not give you permission to follow suit.

Also, you must have a great & wicked sense of humor, must not be a prude, be politically left-leaning (ha-DOY-YOY-YOY, but I don’t mind moderates), be well read, don’t mind cats and have your own computer. Oh and you must find those damn Jared Gallery of Jewelry tee vee ads as annoying as I do.

Typical day:

Arrive around 11:30am. I’ll just be getting home from Bikram, so you can occupy yourself for a bit while I go through the de-stinking process. Help yourself to all the coffee, Splenda and Coffee Mate French Vanilla creamer you can cram down your gullet because that combo brings all those who indulge in it great happiness.

Noon: Ummm…lunchtime. Hmm. We’ll either forage through the fridge for morsels, OR we’ll mosey on over to Budacki’s for burgers & the best fries in Chicago, or Ba Le for sammiches. During our treks to and from those places, your job will be to keep the press away from me. You have my permission to use both salty language and capoeira to protect me.

1:30ish: Nap time, but you’ll need your own drool cup. I’ll supply the hot cocoa, cookies and bankies.

2:00-2:15: Wake up, or whatever.

2:30: Surf the ‘net for a bit. Then, we’ll watch either “Better Off Ted” on my DVR, or work on my Charles Nelson Reilly Appreciation Seminar.

3:00: Time for 2 hours of “Friends”* on TBS! This is where the real work is done. Your job is type up every funny line (it’s not that tough–Joey, Phoebe and Chandler usually have the best lines–with Phoebe leading the way), then we’ll discuss the merits of each line and rate them on some sort of “White People Who Are Living Unrealistic/Unattainable Lifestyles in the Village Humor Scale” (working title–your job is to come up with a better, snappier title). During this time, more web surfing is not only encouraged, but required. This is the best time to look for the best/worst amateur porn the Web has to offer. Trust me on this.

* Shows may vary, depending on my mood and the tee vee schedule. If it’s summer, we’ll watch Wimbledon. If it’s an Olympic year, the Olympics, etc. You know what I mean.

3:30: Pre-cocktail cocktail hour. Find the raunchiest porn vid and post it a prudish friend’s FB page. They’ll thank you for it later. Also, work on your Barbara Stanwyck impression–we’ll get into why this important in Week 3.

4:00: Lead the discussion about which lines you’ve found to be the funniest so far. Be focused and be able to back up your findings. My friend/neighbor, Melissa, will join us from time to time and she has already agreed to weigh in on your final eval. During this time, I’ll be mixing up a pitcher of Long Island Ice Teas in the kitchen–do NOT disturb me.

5:00: You’re free to go for the day, OR stay and watch an hour of “King of Queens.”

A taste:


It’s your choice. I’ll see you in a couple of days, or next week. Whenever.

More musings on random shit

With this musical revelation, Jesus is gonna come back and beat the crap out of this woman to save the rest of humanity. Some talent should never, ever be allowed to leave Norway.

A fake dick will make its first appearance in space in October. When I heard this earlier today, my response was “Why didn’t I think of this??” I don’t know about y’all, but I feel much better knowing that a sex toy will be vibrating its way through space, maybe looking for moisture on Mars. But, I have two words for this cosmic cock: Black Hole.

I’m alll about organic, but this is too much. The idea of rodent turds mixin’ it up with my morning cuppa joe that’s been infused with a  jug of CoffeeMate French Vanilla creamer and a bucket of Splenda, really makes me just want to give up and start drinking vodka in the morning. If there were turds in vodka, at least the alcohol would kill the germs and kill the necessary brain cells that require one to feel disgust.

Question: Why do people shop at Jared the Galleria of Jewelry? What is wrong with people? Is it that fucking difficult to think for yourself? Or do you like conformity and ugly? This society is doomed, and a little of me dies whenever I see a tee vee ad for this place.

Can’t wait to read this page-long book. “I tried heroin, then woke up years later with a teenage daughter, a dead husband and a new body thanks to plastic surgery.”

Finally, this vid is the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time.