Saturday, May 28, 2016

ODD JOB APPLICATION

Yes I know I'm wearing purple lipstick and showing off my nipples in my profile photo and I haven't listed any previous work experience. Never mind all of that. I'm banned from OK Cupid. Short story but I'm tired of telling it. I'm an outlaw but I don't own a gun. I was wanted in four or five different states in 1995. That shit has been cleared up. I've never been booked. I'm lucky like that. I babysat quite a bit back in the day. I didn't lose my virginity until I was twenty-two. I've waited a few tables. I worked in a factory once for a month. I kept waiting for Richard Gere to rescue me. I sold panties over the phone for Victoria's Secret. I worked the pole from Arlington to Las Vegas. T-Mobile. Blah. Angelito's. Yada. Burger Time. Blah. Fredericksburg Christian. You know it, motherfucker. Texas State University. Omega Xi! Schreiner University. I was invisible but I showed up. Publication credits. Huh? Grocery list tattoo. UTSA. I pissed off a professor so she sent me an e-mail IN ALL CAPS. Class. I think I graduated but I'm still waiting on the piece of paper to prove it. Better Than Your Mother cleaning service. I cleaned and bled and sweat for $5.25 an hour. The Bridgeport Index. $5.25 an hour. Jay left a note on my desk. "I apologize for my error. 'Nope' is not a word." I never made cheerleader or homecoming queen, that's for damn sure. Bukowski wouldn't have fucked me. We would have met at a party after a damn open mic and he would have leered at me from across the room and said,"You're too uptight, baby." I make my own vinaigrette out of olive oil, honey and apple cider vinegar. I put coconut oil in my hair. I've been selling on eBay since 2008. I was inspired by Paula Deen's book that same year and baked a bunch of peanut butter cookies for my mom to sell in her office and my husband at the time complained that I was making him sick. I auditioned for disability in 2011. I got the part. My ex-boyfriend told me I needed to get a real job so he booted my ass back to college at the age of forty-one. I thought I would die. I'm still alive, drinking green tea and buying the occasional scratch card. "You always lose," my son says. He's smarter than I'll ever be. Sure. I can help you organize your office, run your errands, decorate your cocina for fiestas, feed your fish. I cannot help you with your cats, dogs, tarantulas or snakes. I will not fuck your husband while you watch. Don't ask me to file your taxes or cut your hair. I won't take your kids to see "Angry Birds." I will bring you froyo with peanut M&Ms on top. I will clean up your manuscript. I will e-mail your boss and keep the adverbs and expletives to a minimum. I will board your train. If I wake up tomorrow in Willoughby I'll have no one to blame but one Rod Serling.

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