Gimme da Loot

I actually would feel better about someone taking my lunch if he/she had left a note because I would’ve at least received some sort of amusement despite the fact that now I will be rummaging around my oversized midget-smuggling purse for spare change to purchase a 3 year old Twix bar from the vending machines in the mechanic area, while the man with the braided beard tells me I look “fancy” for the third time this week. Simply because I’m not wearing a jumpsuit covered in grease and bodily fluids, I look like a supermodel to these men. Whenever I’m feeling bad about myself, I’ve found it helps to walk by construction sites or hang out near a local SuperLube. Sometimes I contemplate putting on a ball-gown and stilettos and strutting my stuff through the scaffolding beneath a worksite. I don’t even mind that I’m being completely objectified with barks, whistles and “Hey Baby’s” from men that are 100% picturing me naked.  It actually makes me feel pretty and all you feminists in your Hollister polos can kick rocks because every girl has their confidence booster and mine is simply presenting myself like a rib eye in front of the illiterate toothless blue-collar population of America.

It honestly doesn’t matter if you’re 300 lbs with a lazy eye and a hunchback--throw a spandex mini dress on that FUPA and some chubby chasing Mexican cement worker is bound to obscenely dry hump the air and whistle while you walk past. Trust me; it’s about as full proof a plan as accidentally “misplacing” a child in Disney World. Some parents keep their kids on leashes while others keep them in a stroller when it’s just SO easy to point the way to Mickey Mouse and skip away in the other direction singing that “Free at Last” slave song like Harriet Tubman’s friends in the tunnel (which wasn’t even actually underground… lowering the coolness factor to about a -5) But I’m kidding, I would never actually release my child into the massive crowds of Disney—they have cameras there. Not to mention you can get all kinds of loot for your offspring on the black market these days. Not that I have any experience in that… I’ve just Googled it.

Come to think of it, I’ve Googled “selling plasma for money” and “egg harvesting” today on my boss’s computer. I should probably figure out how to delete history, before she thinks I’m about to sell bodily fluids and/or my seeds for illicit substances. I only need the money to fund my ‘fuck you real world’ year. However, I did read that you can get thousands for selling your eggs. It’s probably bad that I’m so broke I’ve actually considered it.  Really the only thing holding me back is that dreadful knock in four years, when I open the door revealing a woman shouting something about ‘the spawn of Satan’ over her shoulder while she sprints back to her minivan, leaving me with a small blonde demon that proceeds to light my front lawn on fire and toss my dog in the flames while humming the Wiggles theme song.