Fueling the Fire (Under My Butt)

My mother, the ever present dominating psychopath that she is (said with love, I promise), has decided to take it upon herself to get me a job!

While I guess there are some members of the unemployed set that would be thrilled to include their birthing tunnel in the complexities of finding employment, I am not one of those people. Yes, I do love my mother, she's a special breed of lady, but there are moments in my life when I wish she would just cut the cord and let me breathe already. Living at home has not helped this, especially as mi madre only wants the best for her baby and asks every one of her doctor's patients if they know of anyone in publishing (my desired field, or anything with blogs). Working at a hospital is taxing on my mother, so she lightens the mood by talking about her kiddies (the non-mewling kind, sort of) and in turn, the patients who are so focused on cancer (oncology wards, what a trip) have something else to discuss that alleviate the pain they're going through.

So this morning I walk downstairs in my lack of mocha-latte haze, blundering around looking for the coffee filters to discover that my mother has left me forty bucks with which to entertain my 15 year old brother and a list of people to send resumes to. What she forgot to do was give me email addresses...

...which meant that me and Google were bff's all this morning and part of the afternoon stalking these people only to realize that, well, they do not have internet published email addresses. Despite having resigned myself to the "fail" category, I did stumble upon a pretty nifty website that lists magazine openings that not many people know about. A tad bit happier about my outcome, sans emails, I sent my resume out for a blogging post for College News. One can only hope that if they ever meet me, which who knows if they will, they will find me just as humorous as my mother does.

If I cross any more body parts I'll end up looking like a dimwitted mummy. But not my "mummy", of course.