I’ve been pimping myself out. No, it’s not what you think. I’ve been confidently marching myself into the HR offices in several local hospitals. I need a nursing job, like yesterday! If I have to make one more copy for someone, I may go postal on them. I do not want to be on the six o’clock news, people! Well, if I am, I’d rather it be for something for more interesting than that, maybe an affair with a local celebrity or a witness to police brutality. Yes, I realize that I’ll be trading the “Can you make me one copy?” for “Can you fetch that fecal sample for me?”. (And)I know this (man!) and I don’t care if I’m up to my eyes in poo (I reserve the right to still say poo, even though I know proper medical terminology now). Oh yeah, I give you all permission to remind me that I said this later when I’m complaining about it.
So, I need you all to say some prayers, whether to God, Buddha, your sun king, or whomever/whatever divine power you give praise too. Do a prosperity dance, write a Wiccan spell or meditate with the image of me in scrubs . I don’t care as long as it delivers me to a job or a job to me. I really do not want to break out the black pleather nurse outfit to get a job. I’d like to be able to say, “Honey, I got the job because I’m smart and they loved me,” instead of, “I don’t know where those marks came from, but I did get the job!”
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