This must come as a shock to you, because I imagine you think of me as a sunny Mary Poppins-type, always smiling and extending goodwill to all. Helping old ladies across the street, baking cookies for the neighborhood children--that whole deal. I hate to put a dent your perfect vision of me, and possibly be responsible for crushing some of your faith in the general goodness in the world--but I'm crabby today, and no one could blame me. Not only am I lumbering around with this cartoonishly large, pregnant belly, but doesn't help that it's been a face-melting 81 goddamn degrees in my house during the hottest part of the day for the past couple of weeks. It's like I'm living in the Wild West-era, when women just had to sit around and fan their sweaty, stinking faces all day long to keep from dying prematurely. Luckily for me, we're getting new insulation installed soon (bringing our paltry 3 inches of insulation up to the standard 14 inches), so I can die from fiberglass inhalation rather than dehydration, as God intended.
But in the meantime, I'm bloody hot. I need your help. Normally I'd hesitate to turn to you for help in any matter except cleaning monkey cages at the zoo or possibly stamping hands at a roller rink-- except for the fact that you're the only group I can think of that's clearly unemployed, with nothing better to do than sit on your asses reading blogs all day--and since everyone else in the world is gainfully employed and contributing to society in some way, that leaves me little choice but to call on you.
The following is a list of the positions I need filled at my 81-degree Circle of Hell in short order:
Fan Wielders:I need no less than 10 of you to stand around and fan me with some of those long-handled fans you see the servants fanning Cleopatra with in the movies. These 10 fan-wielders should, ideally, be the best-looking among you, if such a group exists. Or I suppose I could settle for the least offensive-looking among you, if I must.
Toilet Scrubbers: 2 or 3 people to clean my house, since it's far too hot for me to engage in such menial tasks. You'll need to bring your own supplies, to include your own toothbrushes to clean the toilets.
Mustard Spreader: 1 person on standby to whip me up a club sandwich when the need arises, and gently press a damp cloth to my delicate forehead while I nibble daintily on your perfectly-toasted creation. Let it be noted that the Mustard Spreaders must never, ever fraternize with the Toilet Scrubbers, lest bacteria carelessly be passed to the above mentioned club sandwich.
Tub Filler: 1 person on call to be ready at any moment to draw me a nice cool bubble bath, and possibly massage my feet while I snooze among the bubbles. Bring a good-sized selection of your own nail polishes (in tasteful colors) to paint my toenails while I nap in the suds.
Toddler Chaser: No fewer than 7 of you to entertain/muffle/restrain/subdue my 2-year-old son, freeing me up for a maximum amount of napping and TV-watching time. These 7 people should be the biggest, burliest among you--ideally ex-marines or former NFL players. They should also posses great mental fortitude, enabling them to stand firm against unreasonable, constant demands to watch Mickey Mouse on TV all day long.
That completes the list, so feel free to go ahead and submit your qualifications for the position you feel best suited for. I'd say no applicants with criminal records are allowed, but I understand I'm dealing with a limited talent pool here, and I can't be choosy--so I will only ask that you refrain from committing criminal acts while in my employ...or, at the very least, that the criminal acts you commit not involve firearms or kidnapped neighborhood children. And, of course, I use the word "employ" in only the sketchiest sense, since there's no actual pay involved in these job positions...unless you count the immeasurable satisfaction a person can get from doing good deeds. And the bonus satisfaction you'll get from losing 7 to 10 pounds per day by sweating like a prizefighter in training in my barely-air-conditioned home.
YOU BIG FAT BABBLER! YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!!
I got yer standard 14 inches right here, babe. It's kinda pink, but it ain't fiberglass.
And I'd like to volunteer for the tub filler/masseur position. I think you'll find I have a firm yet soothing touch.
Clearly, I am going to have to pad my resume a bit if I want to associate with the likes of you and your blog readership.
Thus far in my illustrious professional career, I have found that I am more suited for showing up late and quitting once I have enrolled in the 401k program.
I would like to mention that I am excellent, just excellent at staying up late, passing out on the couch, finding the remote between my thighs, throwing the alarm clock across the room, trying on shoes, expensing lunches, falling asleep in the pool, and drinking the vodka.
You didn't mention much of my skill set in this post.
Oh Karla you poor thing. I'll come and scrub your toilet for you any day.
i kinda more thought you were always smiling with evil thoughts, pushing old ladies into the street, and baking "magic cookies" for the local kids...
I'd like to recommend a slight revision to your plan. If you hired Common Wombat in Position One as Fanimous Maximous that would free up an additional NINE people to chase after your more mobile crotchling. Of course, that would hinge entirely on your ability to withstand whatever flatus he chose to fan you with. I'm sure he has oodles.
Just a thought.
Oh...and why exactly must you spread the mustard when everyone else in the trailer park chugs it from the bottle? You've gotten soft on us Karla. Me thinks all that E! teevee you've been watching has caused you to fancy yourself a socialite. Just because you have the matching ankle bracelet doesn't mean you're a Hilton!
Also, I'm incredibly lazy and unwilling so I won't be filling any of those positions. And you can just forget hiring me for a wet nurse later on. That baby can drink your booze infused titty treats just like the first one.
I was way ahead of you on the Mary Poppins coorelation, what with your "pills a-poppin"* (* except for the birth control variety) habit, and the resulting "high as a kite" demeanor.
How else could one explain the staples and thumbtacks (instead of sprinkles and M&Ms) in the aforementioned cookies, or your habit of turning the hose on those little old ladies to see which ones would melt?
But I must politely decline on the fanning Karla gig, as it would be too campily reminiscent of Jabba the Hut's Slave barge scene from "Return of the Jedi".
I'm almost positive that 99% of your readership is comprised of low-lifes that have been court-ordered to stay away from anyone under the age of 21, thus ruining your whole plan.
You'd have better luck advertising in the Pennysaver.
i will be your bartender.
oh you don't need me till after the birth??? great! paid vacation! wooooo
Me me me! Pick me! Standing around and fanning you 24/7 beats the HELL out of dealing with my own crumb crushers.
Ok, I MAY be up for the toddler chaser position -- but I must demand tha I have unobstructed access to the services of the mustard spreaders and tub fillers, when you aren't using them, of course.
I volunteer to handle the two year old. It's really quite simple. Every morning I'll lock him in a cage in the basement with a bucket and a can of sardines. I'm surprised you're not doing this already. Great way to raise a child.
You're still alive?!? Well I'll be. Never have I been so glad to lose a bet.
My favorite part is that there's a call for more Fanners than Child Chasers. Brilliant!
I don't fan others, I certainly don't do toilets, I don't cook (even in the broadest sense of the word), I'm more of a shower person than a tub person and I definately don't do kids. If you kill someone I'm all over the defense, but other than that I'm not much help.
A) I cannot *WAIT* to find out what kinda whackos you get from Google with that post. You're just eggin' them on now. Throw "wookies," "leggy," and "waffle" in there somewhere, and you'll have to start charging for the additional bandwidth.
B) I though I was really close to being able to help out, but unfortunately I can only spread tubs while wielding toilets and chasing *toads*, so obviously, that's out.
I'll sign up for one of the gigs provided you hook me up with one of your big-coned Texas lasses for a night.
Terms are non-negotiable.
And stay healthy otherwise you know the punishment, Hound torture.
Didn't you say Wombat wasn't blogging much anymore? While you might have to spray for fleas several times a week, this sounds like the perfect job for him. After all, he has put you through hell in blogging land for quite awhile now, right?
And, yes, I just completely insulted someone I've never met before. I live in Texas too and I'm damn hot as well...and not even pregnant. But, I'm potty training my daughter and damn it, that could make anyone irritable!
yeah. i can NOT for the life of my figure out why people have more than one child. really, what was so wrong with the first one?!
seriously, if you're a republican it's your own damned fault you're hot.
really seriously, you're hott so the hot makes sense.
Quick! Someone call a Wahmbulance! It finally happened, the day we have all been fearing; a pregnant woman is uncomfortable!
I volunteer to watch Jake. I wonder if I could get them to play Mickey Mouse at the nudie bars where we'd hang out all day long.
There, now are you happy?????
Patti suggested that if I were on fanning duty it would free up nine people for other jobs. Patti, I'm a big guy, but I don't have 18 hands. Even if I lay on my back and used my hands and feet, stuck a fan in my belly button, one in my mouth, and tied one to my dong, I could still only do the work of maybe 6 fanners. Get your math right. Sheesh.
As for you, Karla, this has become less of a blog and more of an unending list of stuff you want other people to do for you. Keep this up, and I'm going to come out to Texas after the birth and smack you with your own children.
I know you're reading my comment above and thinking "2 hands, 2 feet, mouth, belly button and dong... That's 7 fans." And you'd be right, except for the fact that my dong is reeeeealy small. It counts as maybe .07 fans. So I just rounded down. I'm a mathmagician.
Dude, I was suggesting you utilize your rear exhaust! I wasn't volunteering you to do much more than you already do, though to keep up with the demand you might need to consider increasing your bean and cabbage consumption.
You will be ok! Try using deodorant.
Turn off that word verification. wtf
Speaking of heat, Summer will officially be starting this week in Wash, DC.
Howdy from the melting muppet
wtf? I'm BORED! Entertain me dammit!
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