Jun 9, 2008
Tomorrow is my first day at work, although the first two are considered training days. My new boss was nice enough to say that if I needed more time, I was welcome to take it--but since I know a half-dead, cracked-out monkey could do my job, I don't think I'll be needing it.
Between the Apocalyptic weather and my bank accounts signing the same airtight suicide pact, it's been a challenge to stay positive--but here I am! Living proof that you can stare down a bowl full of cyanide tablets (even the chocolate-covered ones) and win, kind of. If wanting semi-permanent sunlight and bags of unmarked money to suddenly rain down from the sky is wrong, then I don't want to be right; I'd rather be wrong, wronger, the wrongest.
If I could have my it way, my first day at work would look like a commercial that Ellen might star in. I'm not for or against Ellen in any way, and I sometimes find her funny--but something about her commercials makes me feel like we could be best friends. She's goofy, wry, self-deprecating; she wears comfortable looking jeans, and smiles a lot. There's usually a choreographed number, or some silly dance that everyone in her building knows. Sometimes she ends up with a monkey on her shoulder--or some type of stupid Carrot Top prop, like oversized sunglasses, or a big sombrero--but it never overwhelms. Sometimes she sings, but she always ends up laughing at herself in the end. Yeah, Commercial Ellen would be a fun best friend. I could be getting her American Express ad mixed up with Tina Fey's American Express ad, though. I would not want my day to look like Tina Fey's commercials; she always looks harried, pointy, and two seconds away from a brain aneurysm. And let's be honest, the monkeys in her commercials lack the pizazz of the ones that may or may not be in the commercial that Ellen is in; everybody says so. The funny part about this is, I don't have television at my house. I've only ever seen these commercials in the homes of other people--"cool" kids, people with digital cable. I assume they appreciate the warmth and comfort of Ellen's commercials, just like I do, but doubt they see her as anything more than a clever marketing tool. Not me. I think she's the next Oprah, only openly gay and actually white. I can't wait for her to take Oprah down in an epic battle, only to be usurped by a turd like Miley Cyrus, or twin turds like MarkiePost & Ashhole Olsen, or whatever their names are.
Anyways, hear me now, Universe (even though I don't really believe in you): I need an Ellen day tomorrow! I need a marching band to march me into my new job, and dancers for the musical number, and millions of streamers for the ticker tape parade! Hire the entire cast from those Austin Powers movies! Get Beyonce and Celine Dion to sing a horrible duet! Gather children from around the world, and take pictures of me holding hands with them! I do not need an Energizer Bunny-type day, or a Country Crock Creepy Hand Soap Opera kind of day; I know I'm a manicurist, but those hands killed any assumptions I had about long-term hand relationships. All I'm saying is, if there's not a photo of me tomorrow--hailing a cab with a Starbucks latte in my hand, singing Gloria Gaynor's sister anthem 'I Will Survive', with George Clinton and the P-Funk All Stars on backup, dancing with a newborn puppy on a very sunny day--I will consider this mission to have officially FAILED.
Note to self: Sometimes you have really high expectations and it can get you into trouble.
Note from self: I don't care what you say, tomorrow will be perfect.