Hypothetical Job Search

Permanent would be badIt happens every January. There have been 200 test graded. Two afternoons of interviewing study abroad candidates. Outlines. Syllabi. Mock tests. Essays. I am hunched over my desk glaring into essay number 18. My eyes have stopped working. At first I think a deity has taken pity on me by blinding me; it turns out that I’m crying.

And then it happens.

I decide to quit my job.

I stand with a manly squeal of triumph and move to the couch, where at the very least I can avoid essays that have no thesis statement. I daydream whole new career opportunities.

Today there are some really good ones.

Tattoo Grammar and Spell Check

Now, I am sure that you want to show off how Awesum you are and your friend is proving exactly how Too Cool for Scool she really is, but wouldn’t it be great to avoid permanent humiliation in at least one tiny area? I know, I know. Doing a four-second check on the quality of the art that will be on your skin for the rest of your life isn’t as important as advertising yourself as the Prome Queen, but it does have some benefit, right?

I am a highly qualified to do tattoo grammar check. I have streangth, I leave important coments, I won’t juge you, and I know the difernce between your, yours, and the less common, yurs and yourse

I don’t want insurance, dental, or holiday. I want a clause in my contract that allows me to sterilize you if you don’t take my advice.

I promise, you will regret nohing.

*Yes, these are all actual spelling and grammatical mistakes in real tattoos.

Host for Runaway Adults

After my last post (My First World Problems) the outpouring of slightly testy emails and IMs has made one point clear: married men think I live in Shangri La.

So, for a reasonable fee a married man or woman (equal opportunity) can come to my house and live with me for a week. And get ready for a week of the most almost-40-year-old sweater vest wearing shenanigans you can imagine.

We’ll eat chicken a lot because it doesn’t dry out like pork. We will go to the pub every night and complain that we’re sleepy and should have just gone home early. If you’re lucky, we’ll sit at a table together and text different people. Sometimes we’ll just stay in and watch The Big Bang Theory in our pajamas and then tell people the next day that we were reading a Cormac McCarthy novel. They all have horses. It’s an easy lie.

Feeding my cat is part of the deal.

Teenage Life Coach

Surely you are laughing a raucous, belly laugh that is quite frankly hurting my feelings. How, you ask, could I possibly be a life coach for a young person?


I work with young people every day. I spend time guiding them, giving them advice, helping them with essays and testing skills. And in my time working with young people, I have found they appreciate my advice, take it with interest, and then they do the exact opposite.

I assume it’s one of my superpowers. I’ll come to your house and tell your teenage son to do drugs and lounge on the couch eating potato chips and he’ll promptly drop his joint, eat a salad, and go for a run.

NB: This seems to work with all age groups. And cats.

Sigh. My hypothetical job search is over. Time to get back to essays. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo:

Only the Strong Servive!  

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