‘work’

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Adoring fanbase persons, I’d like to take this opportunity to announce that August 15th will be my last day at Cellfish Media, where I have resided as production assistant intern person who wears grandma dresses since May of 2007.

Cellfish media does stuff like this: img5.jpgAnd this: barriomobiletones-sm.gif.

During my time at Cellfish Media, I have gained massively vast amounts of skills including (but not limited to) excessive Snapple consumption, excessive pee break taking, online copywriting, harddrive organizing, eyeball stabbing out-ing with assorted office instruments, script writing, shoots-assisting, bagel and meat grabbing, wooing, blogging, starring, chewing, and retarded amounts of iphoto booth taking.

Goodbye, the first ‘real’ job. So long, fellar. Meet me in St. Louis. Or actually, maybe – don’t.

Fansfolk, what I mean to say is: as of August 15th, I will be unemployed. Terrifying, invigorating. I’ve been sending off assloads of resumes, perusing craig’s list like a little Bear. I just can’t seem to decided WHAT it is exactly I should do. For ‘money.’ ‘Money’ for rent, loans, iced coffee, cheap wine, goodwill, assorted aspirations for travelling, life-living, movie-watching, gift-buying, plane tickets, Target, meaty biscuits, um, and maybe a sweet little Titten named Captain Rolando Baby Monster, Inc.

So – I’m taking suggestions/ nuggets of inspiration. Basically, I just want to do something I CARE about. I don’t know what that is. Ideally, yes, 100%, I could just write for a living, and F all else. That would be amazing. My own schedule, my own terms, living off my words like all writers should be able to do.

Ideas thusfar:

Wine bar/coffee maker person, because I can seriously do this like a bitch in an apron:

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Or maybe a foot fetish party person. These lasses make like a grand a night, yo. And as my debt sky-rockets, my ethics plummet, and because my feet are hot. If my feet were  a lady person, they would be this lady person:

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Except with like – even a MORE widely opened facehole. Pedicure: $35. Cab fare home: $18.57. An investment banker jizzing on your pinky toes: priceless.

I jest.

Finally – maybe – I will just seek an hourly wage  as a professional Patient Person. Tired of waiting? I will wait for you. I am so patient I will wait for the train forever. The train could never come, and this is fine. I am so patient I am like this:

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But sweatier and with less Jesus up my skivey’s. As a professional Patient Person, I will charge 1/4 my student loans per hour, and will wait for anything.

Any other suggestions? Heh? Anyone?

I await them. Patiently.

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