And if you’re not singing the Dire Straits song right now, I don’t know if we can still be friends… although that song uses the word “faggot” and I try not to use hurtful words like “faggot”… you motherfuckers…
So if you’ve been keeping up with the rest of the class, you’ll remember that Hoody is currently
a wicked drain on your tax dollars unemployed. But I can’t find me no job, and here’s why — everything I wanna be just won’t work. Let’s examine our choices, shall we?
DUH, of course I wanna be a pirate, of the Captain Jack Sparrow variety, not the Somali kind (which is good, ’cause I’m not Somalian). On the plus side — I have my own swords and I have no problem with holding knives in my teeth. Also, I like rum and hush puppies, which according to this placemat I got from a seafood restaurant is all pirates eat. I even know all the words to the Jimmy Buffett song about being a pirate. But you know there’s gotta be some…
A. As previously mentioned, not Somalian, which is really the only type of pirate you hear about nowadays.
B. Startup costs appear to be pretty fucking high. Apparently I would need a pirate ship, some poofy pants, and at least 2 or 3 “scurvy dogs” to act as crew, and that’s the bare minimum. And I can’t get an estimate on a ship because the Chris-Craft guy had my number blocked, the scurvy dog. I know where you live, Eugene.
2. Dian Fossey for Squirrels
Dear Sweet Mama;s neighborhood has A LOT of squirrels, so I figured this one would be a cinch. I started out by naming all the squirrels: Too Fat, Gretzky (who knocks the other squirrels over), Tebow (who is most often the victim of the knocking over), Lucky (who has a bald patch on his tail where he got away from some other critter), and Other One. Then I realized it was not to be, all because of one insurmountable
A. I have no tail. And it seems that more than half of squirrel communication (Squirrelese) involves twitching or shaking the tail. So I could not communicate with my subjects, making the experiment invalid (and earning me the name “Enormous Retarded Hairless Squirrel Who Gives Us Nuts”).
3. Stephen King
Yeah, that job’s already taken. Scurvy dog.
So I’m open to y’all’s suggestions as to how I should
get off my lazy ass become a productive member of society. But remember my handicaps: Not Somalian, got no money, got no tail, and am not Stephen King. Go from there.