Because today is Monday, the day after the excuse (formerly known as Jesus' birthday, aka The Day the Earth Stood Still and Nobody Bought Anything). For two months now I've been feeling a bit of a seasonal reprieve. Certainly nobody expected me to find a job during the holidays, right? I mean, bish pls, I would have made a craptastic mall Santa, reeking of antibacterial hand gel, my sack stuffed with wet wipes. But now here I am, my recycling bin crammed with broken down boxes and wrapping paper ripped to shreds. My tree would be dropping its needles if it weren't fake. Today there is no more Christmas to blame. Jesus is still dead and if there are no jobs it's because there really are no jobs. No more, no less, just none. Nietzsche in a coal mine, if you will.And so today I am working on smoke and mirrors. I am re-working my tired ol' resume, making it over from the desparate, shy girl with the horn-rimmed glasses into the life of the party, the girl wearing the sequined frock and laughing (but not too loudly, never too loudly). From this day forward my resume will be the It Girl of the Unemployed Ball. And me? Oh how I wish I could be Esther. Or Jane. Mandy, Jill, Nan, whatever. Anybody but me. Because in the past two months I have sent my schtick to every Tom, Dick and HireMe in the entire Bay Area only to be met with the sound of crickets. My name is already out there and my glasses have left a lasting mark on the bridge of my nose. I am the shy girl and the party has already smelled my desperation. So yes, part of me wishes I could change my name, tie a red string around my wrist, slap my ass and call me Esther.
At the very least I do get to officially add mad Photoshop skillzzz to my resume. Perhaps I will add the above image to my portfolio. (Hey, it was either this Madonna pic or the one of her hitchhiking naked from her Sex book. I do have some filters. Which I should probably also highlight in my resume. Yes, under Skills: Contrary to popular opinion, does not actually say everything that enters my mind. Vagina, fartlocker, Renee Zellweger. Believe me--what I thought of was eons worse.) Hire me.