New Jobs I'm Considering
Astronaut - You know that freeze dried ice cream you always got at the science museum? That stuff tastes like a chalky block of sorority girl barf. And, as is my understanding, that's ALL you have to eat when you're in space. Well, that and Tang of course. But Tang is like McDonald's orange drink that's dying from consumption and I'm pretty sure it's actually supposed to be used to kill garden slugs. So, yeah, for entirely gustatory reasons, me being an astronaut isn't going to happen. Also, I don't know how math or science works.
Heart Surgeon - Eeeeeeew. Squishy. But it pays well. If the hospital will let me keep a trash can next to the operating table so I'll have a place to hurl whenever I touch something warm and gloopy, then I'm in.
Millionaire Playboy - I am totally cool with this job. Where can I fill out an application? I've already got a taste for the finer things in life (like NOT buying Malt-O-Meal cereal and generic-brand pickles) and I'm way snobby, too. See, watch... "People with money are FAAAAR superior to people with out money! Dance, servants... DANCE!!!" See. Snobby. So let me in your club, classy millionaires! And hurry; I've got to take a thunderdump!
Brewmaster - I would probably be good at this. But I would also probably drink up all my product and only be able to sell the public pictures of me hungover and crying. They would come in their own frames, of course, and I'd sign them... but... still. Not the same as a delicious, hand-crafted bottle of microbrew. Or some Schlitz that I poured into a few empty long necks because I don't technically know how to make beer (as I am not a magician).
Vigilante - Not a job, technically, but nonetheless... fun! Exciting! You get to sleep in and carry a gun! I'd probably end up avoiding criminals, though (they're mean and might punch me) in favor of bringing down the hammer of justice on people that hit others with their umbrellas on busy sidewalks or talk loudly about movies they've just seen, even though there might be people within earshot that are sensitive to spoilers. I mean, sorry Guy In The Cube Across From Me... not all of us could get tickets to The Dark Knight on the day it opened. Why you gotta ruin it??? Man, I am so going to stab you in an alley. The hammer of justice is swift and surprisingly petty.
Race Car Driver - Remember when this was a slick, coolsy-woolsy profession? All mysterious Italians and zooming around the Autobahn with foxy Eurobabes. Cool sunglasses, silk scarves that didn't look gay, nifty jumpsuits. Now, though... ick. It's all about selling every square inch of car surface over to Geico or Home Depot or M&Ms, and having all your fans be unappealing trailer-dwellers with a lot of shitty kids and credit card debt, and having to spend all your time turning left. Nah, not for me. Unless, of course, you can hook up your iPod to the tape deck inside the car. I think modern day auto racing could do with a little Belle & Sebastian.
High-Level Executive - I would rather jam a Mont Blanc pen in my eyeball. Or take a conference call with every horrific nightmare I've ever had. Or wear a power tie made of ants. Or handle the Johnson account, and by "the Johnson account," I mean a NUCLEAR BOMB!!!
Chef - Er... I'm not much of a cook, to tell you the truth. But, you know, as long as everyone in the restaurant is cool with eating a cheese quesadilla or a grilled cheese sandwich or just a big bowl of microwaved cheese, then, yeah, I guess I could be a chef. Oh, and I could ALSO be a chef like Chef Boyardee. As in, I could be the face of a line of poor-quality canned pasta and/or meat foods. Being appealingly fat is good for sales!
Female Body Inspector - I see these guys walking around all the time, particularly at street fairs and at Wal-Mart, so it can't be that hard a line of work to get into. Plus... eyes? Oh I've got eyes. They're good for inspecting female bodies!