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Saturday, July 31, 2004

Help Wanted

Birth, school, work, and death. All of those pretty much suck. Most of us can’t avoid any of them. Some people go to school their whole lives, others work until they die. Some people work themselves to death, hence the phrase ‘working stiff.’ Dying usually doesn’t take a lot of work, but dying at work would really suck. Dying on your day off isn’t exactly a church picnic either. Dying at a church picnic wouldn’t be the worst way to go, but it might scare the little ones, especially if it was a Mafia hit. I thought that I was going to die at school once, but it was just under-cooked chicken. You can die at birth and completely miss two things in life that suck--school and work--so why do they always talk about infant mortality like it’s a bad thing? I guess that in a manner of speaking, it takes us our whole lives to die.

You can take this job and shove it, I ain’t working here no more. A job well done. Get a job. I’m a workaholic. He’s allergic to work, never worked a day in his life. What do you do, you know, for work? I need a new job. At least I got a job. Working nine to five, Monday through Friday with time and a half for overtime. Work, work, work, work, work. “You are what you do.” That’s a sad thought at times, pathetic at others. I guess it’s better than “You are what you don’t do.”

Most of the time life is a lot of work. Maybe I should have someone come in a couple days a week to give me a hand. I would be willing to pay them $10 an hour, tax-free, to help me get through the day. My helper could argue with boring friends about politics while I take a nap. They could finish the rest of the Shakespeare plays I can never seem to get around to. My French is fairly embarrassing; they could learn that for me. My Spanish is pretty good, but if I hired an illegal alien it would be a lot better. Don’t even get me started on my lack of computer skills. I guess I’m going to need someone fulltime.

My apartment is really too small to have live-in help so I’ll just have to keep doing it on my own--or not doing it, depending on how you look at it. At least I’m my own boss, and when you work for me you don’t have to do jack shit. This place is a joke: I show up late every day, hung-over, take long lunches, and then I knock off early. What’s he going to do, fire me?

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