My Totally Fucking Awesome Resume

Hey, future employer!

Here's why you should hire me: I can speak perfect English, read almost anything, and I can write in full sentences using the serial comma. I may be the only existing genius who is not a complete scatter brain. That’s right: 100% focused, 100% of the time- no Ritalin (except on weekends).

In Boston, I have been known for “living the dream” both figuratively and literally since I am also the
creator of Inception. I’m the biggest fucking thing to hit this city since the Tampa Bay Rays gave us the
smack down. Last week, I saved two puppies from a burning Subway restaurant while still eating my $5
Foot Long and reading aloud to the blind. No joke. Pick up a goddamn Globe sometime.

What’s my totally amazing bucket list? Glad you asked:
1. Fist fight a motherfucking Peruvian condor while wearing a beard of bees;
2. Eat Cheerios out of Don Knotts skull;
3. Do it all in Washington, DC so that Antonin Scalia can’t say he did it first.

I want to complete this bucket list so badly that if you help me, by giving me a job in the DC area, I will
tattoo your name on my sister’s ass while she’s passed out from a night of drinking at my behooving.
FYI, my ass stays pristine, mofo- like two milky white hams that I forgot to refrigerate because I was too
busy saving the fucking planet from the Chinese.

Resume? Fuck yeah! Pimped out and ready to go. References? Hell, I’ve got those too; but they’re
going fast since I blow their minds each and every fucking day!

Thinking to yourself, “How’s this amazing candidate for changing the way I view the world gonna get
their ass to DC in time to start the totally rad position available at my fucking awesome company?”
Teleportation, bitch! Give me 30 fucking seconds and I’ll be in your face, rocking your world, all the
goddamned time! I’m like a jackrabbit, if a jackrabbit could dematerialize at one point and rematerialize
its precise atomic configuration at another set location.

Did I blow your mind, again? Dude, that’s just Star Trek. And I’ll be the Spock to your Kirk if you’ll
only let me, Captain. See how natural that sounds? I’ll call you Captain every fucking day, if you want;
because I don’t mind being a slave to an AMAZING boss, like you! Humbleness is just another one of
my awesome traits.

Other awesome things I totally rock at:
1. Remembering tons of shit at any time
2. Correcting idiots who don’t know a goddamned thing while looking ADORABLE
3. Working like a dog all day and then getting drunk with you- ‘cause I know you work harder than
everybody else combined and you deserve a fucking drink!

So send me an email. I know you want you. Because I can read minds, too.

I’m Sooooo Over You

I decided to write you this letter so I could tell you that I am sooooo over you.

In fact, I never think about you ever. 

I just wanted you to know that. 

Because I think it’s important that two mature adults be able to continue to not think about each other in a mutually mature and respectful manner, don’t you?  I know I’ve been not thinking of you.  And I assume you haven’t been thinking of me, either.  You haven’t, have you?  Have you?

So that’s why I started sending around those mass text messages to everyone but you saying how great I’ve been doing and how so many men were interested in me.  I assume that when I sent that to your best friend  he had the good taste not to mention it to you- because I really didn’t want you to know about the totally AWESOME threesome I had last week.  Did that one get back to you?  Oops.    

Similarly, that’s why I’ve been walking past your work 10 times a day.  Please don’t listen to those naysayers who say I’m a crazy stalker.  In fact, the only reason I’ve staked out a camp across the street is because I need make sure that you aren’t stalking me- and the only way for me to be sure is to know where you are all the time.  A single girl has got to protect herself nowadays. 

Okay, so maybe the picture text of me making out with some random chick at the bar was a little much. But, I swear, I didn’t send it because I was thinking of you.  I just really, really, really want to make sure you know how much fun I am having without you.  Some people, like me, just have self-respect, like that.   

Yes, that was me looking in through your window last night…but, as I already explained to the police, you gave up your right to privacy when you told me you loved me.  You still love me, right?

Not like it matters anyway.  I stopped thinking about you the moment you said goodbye.  I can just turn it on and off like that.  See, I happen to be gifted when it comes to my memory, unlike some people, who never forget anything.  So get off my back about your sister’s wedding dress- if she didn’t want me to puke on it, she shouldn’t have worn it to the wedding in the first place. 

Kissing Cousins

I though it would be funny if while you were in the bathroom, I told the bartender we were brother and sister.

Haha.

Get it? No?

Ugh! Why do I always end up having to explain my jokes?!?

It’s funny because were not!

Plus I knew it would be a smart idea. Because when you put your hand up my skirt right in front of everyone, even the owner was too horrified to tell us to stop.

I love getting my way and I will make sure I always get it, no matter who I have to shock, hurt, or humiliate.

I’m also a pathological liar- but since that has never gotten in my way of scoring with random men at bars, I’ll just gloss over it. Hey, you look like your just bulging right out of those tight, tight pants! (flash a winning smile until he forgets).

Was I surprised when the three burly bouncers rushed up behind you, pulled you off of me, threw you to the ground, and started kicking you in the balls?

Not really. You’d be surprised how often that kind of thing tends to happen!

I was surprised when the cops showed up, though… hmm.

God, I love you (not like a brother, so don’t get confused)! So, I really hope that we can do this again sometime, but that is also why I can’t come down there and bail you out of jail. See, I'm not your sister. And it’s high time you stopped treating me like one.

Breaking News:

Ode to the Short-Haired Girl

Alas, my short-haired queen with fire and spunk,

It’s true your beauty may be above par,

But short hair does not make my heart go plunk,

I’ll pretend to see you not at the bar.

 

Yea, your heart is sweet and pure as springtime,

Skin soft as a doe; eyes vast as the sky,

Your lips red and sweet as a cherry-wine,

And even a wit to match any guy.

 

Yet I will not stop, nor give you a glance,

No friendly exchange, no saucy harass,

Refused a chance at a night of romance,

And when I leave, slap your friend on the ass.

 

Believe it or not, locks don’t get the guy,

It’s your brains and hearts- so keep out an eye. 

From the Diary of a Long Forgotten Traveler

While I was traveling through the Swarga highlands of the great Himalayas, I met an old seer.  This codger was as blind as a bat, and had lost one ear in the great Battle of Namka Chu, yet he was as lucid and quick as a jackrabbit.  He was called Dorje, which translates as “indomitable” or “thunderbolt,” and much like the thunder, which although invisible, can echo indefinitely off of the mountain chasm, so too was Dorje everywhere and nowhere at once.

One evening, I stood perched on a jagged, mossy cliff, overlooking a wide crevasse.  In the daylight the sun shone brightly, illuminating gray rocks sometimes green with vegetation, but more often blanketed with snow.  But at night, when shadows covered the earth, only the stars in the sky could be seen.

Earlier in the day there had been festivities in honor of his holiness, the Dalai Lama.  Dorje, costumed with streaming flags, danced an ancient rite.  His movements were slow and precise.  Every turn of his wrist, every footfall, done in perfect rhythm as the bells softly chimed.  He was mesmerizing.  According to ancient belief, Dorje was now possessed by dharmapala Pehar, a six-armed god.  Of course, I never let myself get caught up in local superstition.  Still, there was magic in Dorje that day.  From across the courtyard, I spied Bolormaa, Dorje’s ward.  She was neither bright nor beautiful, but her heart was filled with a kindness I had never known.  Perhaps it was her naiveté that drew me to her, or perhaps that she never seemed to quite fully understand what was happening around her.  I always understood too much.

*  *  * 

I looked up into the sky.  So many, many stars. 

In the distance, I could hear footsteps clumsily approach.  It was Bolormaa.  I knew her by the way she ineptly shuffled her feet when hurried.  I turned and lifted my lantern.  I could hear her heavy breathing amidst the shadows.  As Bolormaa came into view I could see her bulbous breasts swinging wildly in her chuba.  It had been so long since I had seen a woman, even longer since I touched one, and even the aging Bolormaa in all her plump awkwardness made the hair on my neck stand up.

Reaching me, she stopped, resting her meaty hands upon her thighs for support.  For a moment we were silent as she drew breath.  I stared back at the infinity beyond; the infinity I wanted to be a part of.

“Khe-rahng ku-su de-bo yin-peh?” she rasped.

How do you think I’m doing, Bolormaa?  Trapped in this village day after day.  Wanting your touch but not daring to reach out?  She smiled a rotund, toothy smile, her eyes squinting up and disappearing into the creases of her face.  She usually smiled when she had no concept of the consequences at hand, and I had never wanted her more.   

I took a step toward her.  Just then the wind picked up and in the distance I could hear the hungry growl of thunder, like a tiger waiting to strike.  Dorje was always watching and I would never be free to take what I wanted.

“La yin,” I muttered.  I’m doing just fine.

Tweety Bird

Some Twitter Advice: 

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.   

*Unless they’re Karl Rove- because Karl Rove will just friend you back.  

(Now the Cheatham Co. Young Republicans Club won't leave me alone!)

[At your own risk]