Scrap-Booking Is For Virgins

So I’ve been thinking lately that if networks could survive without my career as a skilled television watcher, what other profession would I be good at?

Let me start by saying, I’m basically a genius. In my own head. By that I mean, I simply convince myself that what I’m saying is one hundred percent fact at all times. It’s a real treat because it makes me feel super smart. I hate to answer “I don’t know”, so I make something up. And because I’m such a phenomenal liar, everyone believes me. It worked really well when I was in politics, until my coworker figured me out. But instead of getting mad, she was just impressed. In return, I let her be friends with me.

So here are things I’m good at: Being sarcastic. Grunting at men in public. Leaving my morals at the door. Shaking my head at couples who hold hands in grocery stores. (I mean, come-on, grocery shopping is like The Amazing Race: find what you need faster than anyone else and you win. By holding hands you’re basically asking to be disqualified). So I guess I’m also good at grocery shopping. Even better at drinking wine. I have the ability to see any form of injury – the bloodier the more interesting without being grossed out (possibly because of the constant wine buzz). And I am talented at telling other people who they should or should not be in a relationship with.

My weaknesses: Having the mouth of a trucker. Being around people. Loud noises. Keeping to a schedule. Getting smiley faces in emails without fantasizing  about murdering that person. Keeping secrets. Minding my own business. And not sleeping with co-workers. But in the right situation, my weaknesses could also be classified as strengths.

Based on my skills, here are a few occupations I’ve come up with.

Grave Robber– you only work nights, no noise, no co-workers talking about their pets, besides the cost of a shovel and some bags- it’s a pure profit, and there is potential to travel.

Tough Love Life Coach for Men– I would get to say, ‘man-up’, ‘stop being such a pussy’, ‘get over yourself’, ‘have sex with her, properly, once a day, and she’ll stop being such a cunty bitch all the time.’ And on a constant basis- slap a few crying men. Ugh- who decided men should have tear ducts. Way to fuck that one up, God.

Personal Dater- Similar to being a personal shopper, except for choosing dudes. I could create profiles geared towards the men I think would be good for you. I would reel them in with a comment about either your boobs or your ass – because his first impression stick (rhymes with..) doesn’t care that you like photography or being out in nature. Unless photography means bikini pictures and nature means you’re open to topless beaches. After the initial hook, I will insert your personality into some flirty but smart emails to show the real you. When his brain and balls are in the bag, I high-five and tag you in. It’s a flawless system. And the job can be done in the comfort of my own home while drinking a vat of wine throughout the day.

When the business inevitably booms, I could start hosting ‘dating for women’ seminars to remind the superior species that selfie-pics are for porn stars and teenagers who just don’t know any better yet. That being dumped just means you’re not breaking up with them fast enough and need to be a quicker judge of character. That ‘faking it‘ is never an option, or how else will they ever learn? And finally- nothing is going to make a guy more flaccid than lists, itineraries, scrap books and dream boards – keep that shit hidden.

So I think I’m leaning towards being a grave robber. I look really great in black.

Line it up! Now you’ve got it. Proud of you.

Don’t forget to check out my upcoming book! –

See ya!