Six weeks now I’ve been unemployed and some would say, I’ve been looking the part.
“You’ve got the hair of an unemployed writer,” Mom told me. I surveyed myself in her bedroom vanity and—noting the uninspired styling, abundant black roots, and the lackluster matte slicked to my skull—I agreed.
As Popeye says, I yam what I yam, but … I can do better. Through goodly employment and none, with God (and Mom) as my witness, I will never have bad hair again … until the next time it happens, of course.
So, no job yet, but I’ve got a new ‘do.
Where the old hair said: Unemployed Writer, the new hair says: Unemployed Writer Whose Been Watching Too Much Daytime TV, Most Specifically, The Real Housewives of New Jersey.
The new hair is Jersey-big! It’s Jersey-bold! It’s craving a projutto sangwich! And damn it, if you piss it off at dinner, it just might call out, “Prostitution whore!” before flipping a table and sending a cascade of linen and glassware tumbling down your front side.
In short: it’s fab … as is my random use of cat-as-prop. Don’t you agree?
You’re very photogenic, even with the myspace face.
*cackles* “Prostitution whore” + cat-as-prop + you having fun == TEH AWESOME!
Seriously, you crack me up.
I just love you. That is all.
Happy! Monday, friend. Keeping my fingers and toes crossed for you and your job search.
(I can’t really cross my toes. But the sentiment is definitely there.)