Farts in a cubical.

I'm just going to come right out and say it. Pay me to be awesome. Sure, I can: clean houses, wait tables, raise yer rich kids, do data entry, or make coffee. But my true skills set is clearly in the key of time management. Who else do you know that spent a full three weeks sleeping from 9-5? Don't act like you haven't noticed that I'm kind of a big name in lazy.

Last Friday, before I had this soul crushing job working for the man; up hill--in the snow, I got up to manage breakfast and went back to sleep to manage my dreams. I made the bed around 3. Threw anything that was in the sink into the dishwasher, checked around for half full water glasses and pushed all the rumpled clothing into a basket. Just to show off a little, I cleaned his whiskers off the bathroom sink and put out some fresh TP. The rest of my day was spent interacting through various chat clients while eating and drinking on the couch.

Compare that to the fact that I haven't had one ice cream sandwich yet this week (since Sunday) and you start to see why I am so put out. I think most people would find this road one of cruelty and hardship, and that was of course before they considered my job expects me to be proficient in third grade math (namely division) or feign interest in the 430 something district race seats up for grabs this midterm election. None of this is awesome, but I am. Pay me to be awesome. You've got some slide room with the fund finding because it really could be any length of time before they expect me to do actual work. Until then I am just being paid to be mediocre, and occasionally file forms, but damn can this girl shake a hand. Maybe I should go out for one of the many contested districts. I would make a Meg Whitman spending joke and reference but neither of us would find it funny, or care. So I'll spare you.

Oh well, I left my coffee at my "busy work" terminal, so off I go!
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