Oh Les. No.

I'm on the edge of unemployment. My contract at the UW is up in February and, unless my boss decides to hire me (which means benefits, people, and makes it somewhat unlikely), I am out of a job. Let's be clear here. This UW job pays me a LOT of money to do very, very little. Yesterday? I made some photocopies and put papers in numerical order while listening to Pandora and This American Life. That was it. ALL DAY. Sigh. I love that job.

So, I'm doing the job hunt thing. You know, to be safe or smart or ahead of the game or whatever. I'm a huge fan of craigslist. It's how I've found many things I love. The latest? My electronic typewriter. Ah yes. What a gem.

Anyway, while searching around this morning I found a post from a man named Les. He's offering $40-50 an hour to "kick him in the nuts for 1 hour every week". Oh Les. No. See, Les is training for RoShamBo tournaments and wants to build up his pain tolerance. So, he's offering to give you money to kick him in his precious stones. I'll be honest here. I'm seriously considering it. I would love to tell people that one of my jobs involves pain tolerance training via kicking. I might tell people that anyway, actually.

Once, I went to an artsy party under the I-5 overpass. I mean, we're talking ARTSY. I decided to lie about my profession. It's harder than it sounds. People ask questions if you say something too interesting and they hate you if you say something boring. That night, I was a "jello tester", a "financial procurement analytical specialist", a "bouncer", and a "dog bather" (which was funnier with hand gestures and on the spot "anecdotes"). Good times. [The "bouncer" response is only hilarious if you've ever seen me in real life. I'm very petite.]

Last week, I found myself at a drive thru espresso stand where the baristas (female, under 25) were basically wearing underwear and heels. It was horrifying. Can you imagine what the interview process must have been like?

Manager: So, can you make coffee?
Girl: Um, yeah, uh huh, sure.
Manager: What do you weigh? Do you own nice underwear? What is your pain tolerance? Do you know Les? I need to see your ass again. Turn around.

Oh lordy loo, please cross your fingers that I get to keep my job.