Will work for food

With the newspaper industry spiraling into a vegetative state, I’ve been considering my career options. I’m seriously regretting that philosophy minor now, as awesome as arguing semantics for a whole semester was. English has been a surprisingly versatile degree, but getting married really screwed me over. 

Note to any young women reading this blog: Never follow your deadbeat husband up and down the Eastern seaboard at the expense of your own career unless you want to end up woefully overqualified for the monkey job you have but without the management experience to score anything better. 

Not that I’m bitter or anything. 

At any rate, I’ve narrowed my options down to the following three. 

1) Prostitution: In a down economy, prostitution is a growth industry. And I’m a people person! One problem: The average age of an entry-level whore is 13 years old, so I’d be competing with a much younger crowd.

2) Crack dealer: Exciting, and I could set my own hours. But I hate guns, so I’d have to fight off the competition with a fucking iron pipe. And being woken up all hours of the night by strung-out junkies would get on my nerves. Besides, realistically, I’d pee my pants the first time a narc banged on my door. I’m kind of a weenie.

3) Time traveler: This one has real potential. I love to travel, and I’m totally OK with being my own grandma. I just can’t figure out how to get paid to do this. 

If you have any better ideas, let me know. I already checked, and those fascists at eBay won’t let me sell kidneys, even if they’re mine.