I’ve decided to join the circus. I’ve come to this decision
after long (5-minute) contemplative thought on my job prospects at this time.
This decision has nothing to do with the painful, eye-gouging job interview
that I went on today. The temp freelance job I got may go full-time in January
– let’s all keep our fingers crossed - but I need a back-up plan just in case
so HELLO Barnum & Bailey. I checked out Career Opportunities for the
Circus, but I’m really not seeing a fit at this time.
Job Listing: Bearded Woman – I can’t grow one hair on my
chin much less enough to qualify as a beard. Though I clicked through, there
was no listing for “Hairless Freak.”
Job Listing: Ticket Taker – This one sounded promising ‘til
I realized that I may have to touch the unwashed masses and talk to people who
haven’t accepted Dental Hygiene into their lives.
Job Listing: Tightrope Walker – My balance is atrocious and
I’m afraid of heights. Does it count as tightrope walking if the tightrope is
only 6 inches off the ground? And, how many times can you fall off before
people start booing?
Job Listing: Unicycle Rider – The last time I rode a
unicycle in a parade, the clowns kept trying to stab me with their sharp
sticks. Oh wait. That was a dream . . . .
Job Listing: Dancing Bear – Pink Tutu with these pasty white
legs? Oh, I don’t think so.
I’m going to write the Circus and suggest a new position be
added to the list of performers – Human Freak Magnet. “Come one, come all.
Watch as this seemingly normal girl attracts the dregs of society. See complete
strangers attempt to braid her hair or rest their head on her shoulder. Observe
unfamiliar people who sit at her table and try to explain the aliens to her in
their own special language.”
OK. Maybe the Circus shouldn’t be Plan B. How does one go
about becoming a Dominatrix? I hear that they pay and benefits are simply
excellent. Plus, people often refer to me as a pushy b**ch.
