Dispatches From My Ass: I Want A Cookie

Do you ever feel that something is missing in your life? Something major, that you just can’t put your finger on? Well I do.

Don’t get me wrong, I have a home, a cat (that hates me), and a great guy (that I think likes me), but…

Something is off. Could it be that new Luuuuvvvv bullshit Matt-Man’s preaching!! No? Ok then.

Something's off like the time I went through Lent with no fucking ice cream!! Whoa, never doing that dumbass thing again.

Preventing withdraws from that creamy, lovely concoction should be the Eleventh Commandment.

“Thou shalt not go without the ice cream, dumbass.” Or something…

I know what it is, but doing something about it is hard. It’s…………Wait for it…………..The JOB! Or maybe, it is cookies. No, no, it is the job.

Although, I did have a dream the other night about making home made cookies. Hmmm, maybe it is the cookies!

Hey Ma! Could you let loose of your walker long enough to make me some of those oatmeal cookies you used to make? No? Hmmmph.

I’m looking for a job, I really am. And what do I get for my "search and send my resume", quest? Silence. Crickets Chirping. No responses.

Maybe, it’s because I send resumes from my current “job”. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a college degree, or I’m too fucking old.

Maybe, it’s because those fuckers never take the time to interview me, and know that I would be one bitchin’ addition to their company.

Hell, I don’t know, but I’m still trying, and something good will come out of this. Right? RIGHT?

It’s not about the money. It’s about getting out of the hell hole I work in, and doing something I enjoy.

Have I mentioned previously that the hell hole that I work in, SMELLS!!?

Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...

It smells like an overripe, overfull, colostomy bag that was used by an octogenarian Hungarian dude, and has been lying in an Ohio pig farm for an entire week during the hot, humid, butt ass crack of August.

Oh, I have told you that it smells? Sorry.

Or maybe…what I am missing is all about the cookies…

Mommy!? I know you’re 85, but c’mon, can’t a girl get a cookie!?

Zoves,
Schmoop