“So, what do you do?”
I guess I’m getting to that age where I get asked that question a lot, and with some real expectation attached to it.
This is not unexpected.
People my age (or thereabouts, and in other words by now) have careers, real estate, cars, kids and, like, blu ray.[1]
Me?
No.
Why?
Because!
No matter. The question persists:
“So, what do you do?”
The answer, “Nothing”, doesn’t satisfy and gives an air of cold detachment from the question, not to mention the asker. Rest assured: it is unintentional, such aloofness!
Or at least I don’t mean it.
Especially since, “Oh, you’re in management? That’s. Amazing.”
So, in the spirit of begrudging acquiescence to banal inquiry, it’s come time to shore up a better list, a repertoire if you will, of new! exciting! suitable! answers.
Well, answers anyway.
Q: “So, what do you do?”
A: _______________
1) I am a Swamp People.
2) Wrangling.
3) The Erotic Arts.
4) Loving you.
5) Tina Fey Impersonator (not going well).
6) “Going Greener than anyone has ever Greened before.”
7) Preemptive Taxidermy.
8) Icon Repair 😦 Þ 🙂
9) Two words: Sock. Puppets. Four words. Six. Seven. No, eight. TEN??
10) Fish Monger! (Fishwife?)
11) “I work exclusively in the medium of Gummi.”
12) COCKTAILS!!!
13) Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box.
14) Hard, industrial solvents.
15) Pet Psychic (Afterworld Only/Weekends Only/Online Only/No Chinchillas/Cash Up Front).
16) [Something Else to Do With Fish]
17) “Well, these days, I’m under there.”[2]
18) Shafting.
Mine too, baby.
19) Baby Hypnosis.
20) Subway Pusher (transportation, cold-cut combos, inclusive).
21) Winston Churchill Impersonator (going exceedingly well).
22) 24 Hour Cosplay.
23) Human Dryer.
24) Bouncer.[3]
25) Lips.[4]
26) Following Jesus.[5]
27) Dismantling the Hegemonic Bloc.[6]
28) “Let me ask you. Have you ever come face-to-face with a Cassowary in Full Crest after it’s done away with your entire team in the dead heat of jungle night? You do that. You do that and come back here and tell me what it’s like before you ever again ask me what I do.”
29) Popping Caps.[7]
30) Your Mom.[8]
31) Homemade Botox.[9]
32) Hollaback Girl.
33) Family Tree Fan-Fiction.[10]
34) Poof Reader [sic].[11]
35) Ghost Hunter Hunter.[12]
36) “You’d have to ask Cindy herself. I am a robot She created in Her image, to deal with matters vis-à-vis this. You.”
37) Cryptozoology. I Find Your Chupacabra or Yeti in 30 minutes! Or I don’t.
38) “You ever notice how Batman and I are never in the same room? Think on that.”[13]
39) Abstract Sandwich Artist.
Pick and choose!
But you may as well highlight #30.
It’s on.
[1] I do have Netflix depending on how popular Netflix is that day and whether Stephen is downloading anything at the same time I want, say, to watch Shakes the Clown again.
[2] Tee-hee!
[3] OK, yeah. Me? I know. But you have to see the people that this actually works on. I can’t even. Wow.
[4] ?
[5] “Hey-Seuss”. I was going to meet him at a farmer’s market but it was closed, which is perfect because he doesn’t actually exist. No footprints.
[6] Just kidding. No one does that. Um, what’s hegemony? Like even.
[7] Bap, bap, bap.
[8] Totes.
[9] Faux-tox. It aspires to Botox but cheaps out, much like my clients. Yes. I come to your house and/or hotel room.
[10] Slowly, creatively, methodically, I gratify your desperate need for human connection in this crazy, fractured modern world, with its nuclear family units and hi-speed Internet, whist inflating your generational sense of self-important entitlement by grafting familial branches wherever you want them. Shit, you can be related to Julius Caesar and David Beckhem for all I care. Chaka Khan. Whatever, man.
[11] Poop Reader [sic].
[12] All you have to do is follow the heavy, laboured path of ridiculous.
[13] YOU’RE WELCOME.
besidealife 