Jane Wiedlin—Jane Wiedlin
I really wanted to write something last week, but couldn’t. I was all
prepared, had some thought, was wearing my writin’ clothes but then it
was all ruined by the woman bitching and moaning about how I do nothing
but sit around the house, eating, drinking, drugging, porning and
watching mainstream movies.
This got me angry and I mentioned my massive wealth but that didn’t go
over too well since I don’t pay my bills and every day that she comes
home from work she has to go through hundreds of voicemail from
collection agencies because I’m either too lazy, stoned, drunk or busy
to go through them myself.
(Yes, we still have a landline at home. Just in case.)
So, to appease her, I have decided to get a job. A real job where I’m
not testing some theory, but a real job where I get paid so I can add
more money to my many, many, many bank accounts.
I locked myself in the basement and tried drawing up a list of jobs that
appealed to me. I was looking for something where I wouldn’t have to
deal with people, but couldn’t come up with anything.
Of course there were jobs I could deal with the public but not
face-to-face, but I haven’t been in the mood to take calls for Time Life
products, Deal-A-Meal or
The Mellinger Plan for years.
My favorite job when I was much younger was working in the deli at a
supermarket. Aside from slicing off the top of a finger, getting
numerous cuts on the hands from improper use of knives and throwing meat
at a customer that really pissed me off, it was fun.
Therefore, I am going to get a job at a deli in a nearby supermarket.
However, since I can still feel the top of that finger being cut off on
that meat slicer, I have decided that I am going to have both hands
removed and replaced with steel hands. Something along the lines of that
hand in “Terminator 2”.
That way I won’t feel any pain in the hands and can slice and cut myself
to my heart’s content without the fear of having my precious blood
squirting all over someone’s freshly sliced pepperoni.
Since Xmas is right around the corner, this is my gift to you, to the
woman and to the whole fucking world.
Surgery will take place this coming week, so I highly doubt there’ll be
something new next week. I know, that’s kind of sad. But I’ll have a job
so that should make you happy.
Bob has been invited to the surgery since I’ve heard that he’s getting
an earful about getting a job as well. He should because, unlike me, he
doesn’t have a major stockpile of wealth. He thinks “love” is all he
I invited him just so he can get some ideas on what job he should get
and if it’ll require drastic surgery. Plus, if I die on the operating
table while he’s watching, he feel really, really bad about making fun
of me all these years…..
HAVE A MERRY XMAS!!!!!
COMING NEXT: How was that surgery?