Nothing to See Here…

Did you hear?

Amalah quit her job.  She QUIT.  Her JOB.  SHE QUIT HER JOB!

I want to quit my job.  Why can’t I just quit my job too?  She’s going to freelance.  Me, too.  I want to freelance, too.  I don’t know what it means or if I can do it.  I know no right-minded person would ever hire me to write for them because, well, I’m too fucking long-winded.  They would ask for a classy ad slogan and I’d give them a 20-page dissertation or something.

I need a gimmick.  I need an IDEA.  A new career.  My husband and I were talking about opening our own restaurant.  Are talking about it, actually.  We have this quaint, glamorized view of it.  I’d walk in and Bill would be drawing a beer for a customer and they would all look up and say “Norm!”  Well, OK, maybe they wouldn’t say NORM (even though we both share the same girlish figure) but you get the idea. 

I’ve been told that the divorce rate is really HIGH for this business and I thought “Why didn’t someone tell me that when I was trying to dump that FIRST deadbeat?  I could have opened my restaurant back THEN.”  I rather like my current husband so this is a real concern for me.  It might change my view on whether we want to do this thing or not.  Besides, what the hell do we know about restaurants?  I need to examine my motives here.  Maybe it’ll end up that I’m just looking for an easy way to get eggs benedict when I snap my fingers or something.

So today I thought, hell, why don’t I quit my job and consult to other people how they can quit their jobs.  For $79.99 each I’ll tell you how to quit your job!  Yeah, yeah.  That’s the ticket.  And if a mere 12,500 of you take me up on it, I’ll be a MILLIONAIRE.  Of course, if only TWO of you take me up on it, then the price will need to go up to $500,000.00 each.  Bummer (but I’d extend an attractive payment plan!!! think about it, OK? don’t be too hasty!)

They say that you’re a lucky duck if you do what you love for a living.  Some love to cook, some love to sew, to design, to repair.  Me?  I love to hear myself talk.  I love to write.  I love to blather on until I’ve gone and put my entire audience into a coma of boredom.  Well, that’s not entirely true.  I don’t love the coma of boredom part, but I still seem to have a knack at bringing it about.

In fact, I’m quite sure I’d have an easier time making money if I just continue to rattle on endlessly while holding a sign that says “Pay Me To Shut Up - Only $2,500 Per Day!”  I’ve had five meetings today and I can almost guarantee you that if I had that sign on, I could have made $10,000!  Easy money!!!

I’ll take it a level further:  for a mere $1 million dollars, I shall DELETE my blog and never pollute the internet with my senseless drivel again!!! 

Any takers?  Please email to linda@justlinda.net.

No?

Well, then I shall continue on.  See?  You had your chance.  No complaining now.  Really - if a million of you just chipped in a dollar each (paypal: linda@justlinda.net) you could already be enjoying the silence.

My other talent is writing stupid rhymes.  Check this out:

There once was a blogger amung us
Who could not stop talking of fungus
She put the Vick’s on
And the fungus was gone
So now she’ll attempt to wang-chung us

Would you pay $2,500 for that?  No?  It’s the wang-chung reference, right?  Well, there isn’t much that rhymes with fungus and I really didn’t want to go anywhere near the phrase ‘tongue us’ so you are just plain stuck with wang-chung us.  But this is a sample, just a spur-of-the-moment sample.  Really, I can do better.  I swear!

I think you might pay me $10 to write a poem for your birth announcements or your New Year’s Eve party invitations, right?  You know, completely customized and to your satisfaction?  Go ahead (paypal: linda@justlinda.net).

There once was a poet named Lin
Who wanted our money sent in
For a few bucks she’d write
Something vapid and trite
But her only true fans were all kin

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh….. I wanna quit my job too! 

But I’d settle for eggs benedict.  If I had to, that is.

Was it Tolstoy who said “Quit yer whining, Cindy Brady?”  Yes, I believe it was.