Here at Medieval Woman HQ, we're gearing up for a new year on the job market. This is the "money" year, the year it will all work out. Why, you ask? Because it will be my 5th consecutive year on the market - the first 3 in search of a t-t job, which I got and love, and the last two in search of a job with my mate. And I want to get sprogged up, so the clock is ticking. 5 years isn't a job search, it's a prison term.
The Job Market Gnomes have unionized recently (which is more than we were able to do in graduate school). They've renegotiated their contract to include a sauna and an unlimited supply of Hot Pockets. They have also refused to do dishes or clean the bathroom, but what the hell. I have a husband to do that. (I have my own set of domestic tasks, of course. There is no gendered division of labor at MW-HQ!).
My band of ninja warriors got fat over the summer - there just wasn't much for them to do. No students to menace, no administrators to threaten, no civil servants to bump off, no dictatorships of small countries to overthrow. So, instead, they sat on the couch eating Fritos and watching Crocodile Dundee I & II over and over again. Because that shit just
never gets old, people! To get them back into shape, I've put "Jazzercise" and "Buns of Steel" on our Netflix list. And they're cutting back on the carbs.
However, this year, I was able to save up enough American Express points to get each of them their very own mini-SCUD missle. This in addition to their usual arsenal (flamethrowers, pepper spray, Chinese throwing stars, spitball guns, etc.), will make them formidable indeed!
"What was that, Uncooperative University? You didn't want to request a writing sample and dossier from MW? I think you should reconsider. No? (*barrage of spitballs and silly string*) How about now? If you're still going to be difficult, I'll have my lieutenant reformat all your computer hard drives and tickle you until you pass out. Thaaaat's what I thought. Her email is...."
Yes, it's going to be a
veeeeeery successful year....