There is no limit to the extent of my pimping...

I am one determined heifer when it comes to "working from home", y'all. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I will pimp anyone out for some cold, hard cash.  I even tried pimping myself out, but for some reason, I'm not as good at that.... I guess because I know all my faults and I probably wouldn't even hire me if I were in the business of hiring.  Which I am not.  Well, except for my snazzy logo up there.  I did pay for that.

(Need a graphic artist?  This guy is the shit!)

Anyway... recently, an opportunity presented itself to me.  I was just sitting around, staring at my youngest spawn (who was explaining to me the logic behind her poor conduct reports in school) and wondering what the hell I ever did to deserve such a sassy, smart-assed, loud-mouthed rugrat.  God is one cruel mofo.  As I watched her mouth move and completely tuned her out, my mind was racing with ideas on how I could pawn her off on some unsuspecting soul for a little peace and quiet.... that's when it occured to me.  She's smart.  Real smart.  Too smart, actually. WHAT IF she was destined to be Doogie Houser, Jr.?  At the rate she's going with reading and math and logic, she could be competing with the minds of college students in three years. Tops.  It was at that moment that I realized I needed to get to pimpin' HER ass out.

College is expensive, y'all.  And, although I'm not adverse to child labor, she's only five-years-old and pretty useless.  However, she's a budding artist and her artwork is highly sought after.  And, we've just been GIVING that shit away!  Well, no more of that nonsense.  I've started a gallery and I'm selling her shiz to raise money to ship her ass off to college when she's eight.  Go buy some fantastical art, people... one day she'll be famous and you can say you knew her when...

WHO'S PIMPIN' WHO?!

Zombie Princesses Rule, Y'all!

I applied for a writing gig recently that I thought would be fun.  I shoulda known my creative genius would be wasted on those damn Canadians.  But, when they flashed some dollars around and promised lots of work, I couldn't turn it down.  'Cause I'm a whore for money, y'all. Anyway... so as it turns out, I'm now a ghost writer for some weird-ass princess persona who represents a chain of pawn shops in Canada.  She's like their mascot.  My first assignment was to write 5 blog entries... they were all returned for major edits...

Canadian Boss Person: The princess doesn't drink alcohol - she needs to appeal to an audience of moms and families.

Me: Canadian moms don't drink booze?

Canadian Boss Person: What I'm trying to say is that we're "family oriented."

Me: The only reason I even like my family is because I drink.

Canadian Boss Person: Oh.  Uhm.  Can you just take that part out?  Oh... and no sex, either.  The princess isn't married... we want her to be appealing to men.

Me: So, no booze and no sex.  Remind me again why people like her?

Canadian Boss Person: She is fun and sassy.

Me: Can she be a zombie?  If she can't drink and she's a virgin, she can at least eat brains.  THAT would make her cool!

Canadian Boss Person: Are you drunk?

Me: No... I'm high.

Candian Boss Person: What?!

Me: Just kidding. Kinda.

Canadian Boss Person: Are you still up for this project?

Me: Are you still paying?

Canadian Boss Person: Of course...but the message has to be exactly what we want... with a rated-G sense of humor sprinkled in.

Me: I think I need a raise.

At first I thought the gig would be pretty badass...but now, it's just sad.  And, dumb. Seriously. There isn't anything remotely cool about buying used shit from a boring-ass mormon princess.  Canadians are dumb.

I think I need to start another pawn mascot....maybe someone in AMERICA will appreciate my geniusness.