Please read all information before applying so that neither of us wastes time, which is of the essence, cause I'm doggass sick. All applicants for any of the positions must be willing to work for whatever food is in my cupboards or refrigerator. May also have free pillaging privileges over any of the crap in my garage. If it's out there, I probably haven't used it in the last six months anyway. Futon, two love seats and one sofa available for sleeping. Weekends off. Must not make direct eye contact with my husband or watch his ass longingly as he walks away (I wouldn't normally be so insecure, but illness doesn't put my best self forward). Medical benefits include access to my extensive collection of dried herbs and a few natural healing books. No computer access. Nanny: Must wrangle 10-year-old daughter out of bed and out the door for school each weekday. Command decisions about whether or neighborhood children may invade premises may be required. Ensure she completes homework as needed and cleans her damned room. Gets lovable 5-year-old to school on time for afternoon kindergarten and manage (she says, stifling an insane laugh with her fist) behavior of a "busy" three-year-old for the afternoon. Make sure children are clean, healthy, happy, peaceful and sedate(d) by the time their dad gets home. Soup making aunt: Must bring endless cups of either chicken or potato soup to me. Also keep my glass filled with some carbonated, diet beverage. Make breakfast and lunch for my kiddies and provide nummy snacks in between. Also must constantly and aggressively clean my house. Clean it, clean it, CLEAN IT, YOU CRAZED OCTOGENARIAN, SOUP MAKING CLEAN MACHINE! Like a whirling dervish or a white tornado or some other old woman clean demon, clean my house. Oh, and make me some doilies for my altars and such. Crazy Warrior Bitch: Must stand outside my bedroom door and not let ANYone in except as I dictate. All phone calls from bill collectors and telemarketers are also referred to Crazy Warrior Bitch. Crazy Warrior Bitch also maintains a level of silence outside my door and for approximately 10 feet forward from my door. Apply quickly. I'm sick and I don't feel like doing anything or being screwed with any more. I want to go to bed and be sick like a man instead of walking around dead like a mom. My ears hurt. My head hurts. Every now and then I hear a piercing sound like when Lex Luther wants to get Superman's attention and does that ultrasonic thing. I should have also advertised for "Unscrupulous Pharmacist" who will load me with drugs to sleep and heal. His role is more "on call" whereas the other three are full time. [If these ABC News people use the words "specificity" and "specific" one more time, I'm sending them all a thesaurus as a gift] I'm going to bed. I must feel better. I must. I must. Mercury goes back direct today, so glitches should be rectifying! Meanwhile, you just can't find good help these days. :(
Katrina's Archives
|