Unusual employment ads

I know, it isn't really my style to print stuff other than what pops out of my own little brain, but for some reason these amused me. It is a fine bunch of examples of creative writing when it comes to employment ads.

Sit back, read, relax and giggle...

Wanted: Evil genius seeks minions to sacrifice their lives in world domination attempt.  Must be prepared to work 24-7 for fascist psychopath for close to no pay. Messy death inevitable, but costumes and laser death rays provided. Call 1-800-MWA-HAHA

The Foxhole Exotic Dancers is now hiring 1 pretty and 2 ugly dancers

Now Hiring at It’s a Grind Coffee House, because your boyfriend will eventually ask for gas money

Blockbuster Video: Now hiring, please no dinosaurs with clever human costumes… fool me once, shame on you

There are 10 mistakes in this add. If you believe your a great graphic deigner with a eye for detail, Spot these mistakes, then send us you're feed-back on the pelow address..

Wanted: part-time sales person who won’t quit after 2 months, who works hard and doesn’t think she’s doing me a favor my working here, who can take a joke and won’t cry everyday on the floor. Apply within.

Now hiring now. Right on, we’re hiring now.

Help wanted: food experience a must. Do not apply if you’ll need nights off because your band has a gig, do not apply if you need weekends off because your gallery has an opening, do not apply if you just want to work for a few weeks before you go to Europe.

Now hiring. Must have a clue.

Apply today – pizza cook. Qualifications: Not be a crybaby, have a masters in S.Y. M. (shutting you mouth) and must be able to read your schedule.

Surgeon wanted for new health clinic opening in town. No experience necessary, must have own tools.

We’re looking for computer engineers who like to solve difficult problems. Call us at this number (then has long math equation)

Wanted: Someone to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. You’ll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. Safety not guaranteed. I have only done this once before.

Come to work for Subway and have your dreams crushed like the rest of us.

Help wanted, all shifts. We pay more than the NYPD.

Job wanted: Former marijuana smuggler, having successfully completed a 10 year sentence, incident free, for importing 75 tons of marijuana into the US.  I am now seeking a legal and legitimate means to support myself and my family. Business experience: owned and operated a successful fishing business, multi-vessel, one airplane, one island and processing facility. Simultaneously owned and operated a fleet of tractor trailer trucks conducting business in the US. During this time I also co-owned and participated in the executive level management of 120 people worldwide in a successful pot-smuggling venture with revenues in excess of $100 million annually. I took responsibility for my own actions and received a 10 year sentence in the US while others walked free for their cooperation. Attributes: I am an expert in all levels of security, I have extensive computer skills, am personable, reliable, out-going, well educated, clean and sober. I have spoken to thousands of kids and parent groups over the past 10 years on “the consequences of choice” and received public recognition for community service. Fluent in English, French and Spanish. References available from friends, family and the US District Attorney.

I hope some of those made you chuckle... have a great weekend, everyone!

Staying put?

“Where are you?” a voice asked.

“I’m with Dad. I’m fishing,” I replied.

“I’m hungry,” the voice said.

“Make your own lunch. I’m fishing,” I answered.

Big sigh, then the sound of a kid hanging up the phone. Don’t feel too sorry for him – this conversation took place several years ago, when my youngest son was about 17 years old. He had just come home from work for a quick lunch and decided there was nothing good to eat. The funny thing (to me, anyway) is he worked for a grocery store at the time.

These days, we don’t need to clear it with any kids when we run away from home for a few hours, but we do need to get a dog-sitter when we escape overnight. We rarely get big sighs out of him over it. Usually a neighbor just lets him in at night and out in the morning.

This growing older thing isn’t so bad when it comes with less “Mom!”

I actually did get a phone call from a kid just as we were coming off the lake Sunday afternoon. It was the middle kid, and he wanted to know if we were still out on the lake.

“Just heading home,” I informed him.

“I was going to bring Jess out to fish,” he explained with a bit of whine in his voice.

I pointed out we had been there since Friday morning, which he very well knew, and we had to head home and get ready for our work week. He argued a bit, I stood firm.

He let out a big sigh and mumbled “OK.” Sheesh, he’s 22 years old. Dude, if you want to go fishing, go fishing! No Mommy required!

 I think it drives the kids nuts when we’re not just sitting quietly at home waiting for them to call and see what we’re up to. It bugs them that we just won’t stay where they left us.

That is so cool.

Fish on!

I did some quick mental calculations the other day and came up with a sum of two. Yes, I said it was quick.

Two is the number of times I was able to go fishing in 2012. Some people might be OK with that, but I’m not one of them. I really like to fish, especially ice fishing in our permanent house, also known as Eric’s fort.

Between a grandbaby on the way, a lack of ice and busy schedules, we didn’t get much of a chance to fish last winter, so we made a point to head out to Lake Shetek this weekend, even taking a vacation day Friday to spend some serious time out on the lake.

Oh boy, did we have fun!

While we weren’t exactly slaying them, we did come home with a nice bucket of crappies. The walleye we caught were few and far between, and most too tiny to keep. That doesn’t, however, make them any less fun to catch.

My husband always says “Fish are just an interesting byproduct of the fishing experience.” I agree. On various fishing trips over the years, it’s the fun I remember the most. I’m the first to admit we are a silly group of people, so some memories over the years of fishing still make me laugh.

For example, my youngest son got bored during one trip and decided to play a game of cribbage. No one else wanted to play, so he challenged his necklace to a game. He would deal out both hands, then play each out. His necklace won.

Then there is the Blair Witch fishing video. I had sent Eric and the boys up to a lake up north for some guy time, and at one point Eric headed out to talk to a buddy who was at the same lake. The boys were trying to get fishing footage, and so the camera flips on as Matt is sitting in front of a hole with his ice fishing pole. Nick is operating the camera and narrating. I don’t know how long he had to stand there with the camera and wait, but pretty soon the video shows Matt’s rod bend with the weight of a fish.

He’s battling a walleye, and Nick must have forgotten he’s holding the camera, because the scene drifts in and out of the camera’s eye. It does happen to be focused on Matt just as he pulls a nice walleye through the ice, then catches the look of dismay on his face as the fish escapes the hook and dives back down the hole. Never one to quit when there’s a big walleye involved, Matt pretty much dives down the hole himself, shoving an arm into the cold water.

The camera at this point gets tossed onto a table sideways and all you can see is the wall of the fish house. In the background, you hear them yelling and jumping about as Nick bellows out instructions that consist of “Get it, get it, get it!”

There are whoops and banging and shouts, then a hoot of glee. The next shot the camera shows is one of Matt proudly holding a really nice fish, a smile the size of the fish on his face and his sweatshirt sleeve wet up to his shoulder.

I can’t watch it without laughing.

While we didn’t have quite the same adventure over the weekend, there was more than once Eric ended up with a wet sleeve while trying to capture a fish that jumped for freedom at the last moment.

I know, because I marked the occasion on the wall. We do that.

If you ever see us out on the lake, feel free to stop by and read the walls of our shack. There are a lot of stories inside that fort.

Resolutions for 2013

It is customary to make resolutions for a coming new year, but I know me. We've met. My will power is right up there with my ability to work geometric equations. In other words... nada, zilch, I got nothing.

I could make vows to eat healthier, but then there's chocolate and potato chips and beer. Nope - I have earned the right to have popcorn for supper and poptarts for breakfast. Is pop rocks for lunch going too far? Probably.

I could try really hard to vacuum more or put clothes away after I fold them instead of treating the dining room table like an extension of my closet. Nope - as long as the dust bunnies are smaller than my 120 pound dog, the house is clean enough.

I could swear to have dinner on the table each night by 6 p.m. Nope - the darned table is full of folded laundry.

So, I have decided. My 2013 resolution is going to be "Party like a rock star."

I've earned it.

Hey, we all have.

Fulfilling a promise

In my previous job, I had a different blog called "Dirty Laundry," and I had quite a few readers. When I left my position earlier than anticipated, a bunch of loyal fans were sad, because they wouldn't get to read about my daughter's wedding.

They had been following the progress of my preparations to marry a kid off in my back yard, which seemed like a good idea when she suggested. By the time the wedding came around, I had become part of the Radio Works staff. I promised three people I would write a blog anyway and email it to them personally, which I did.

Now I figure its time to share it with the rest of you. Enjoy, and remember, I wrote it back in October:

I’ll admit, I’m a little behind schedule, but I’ve kind of felt that way since mid-July. Hey, it happens.

I promised a few people I would write this, but getting it done was harder than I thought. I figured after my daughter’s wedding, there would be so much to write about that I’d have trouble keeping things under the length of a novella. Instead I find so much of the weekend was a blur of chaos and motion that I have trouble gathering my thoughts.

There are certain memories that I will remember until my mind goes away (no sarcastic comments, I know sometime it’s closer to that than others). 

In the interest of not writing too long, I’ll relay just a couple of those memories. 

My daughter, as usual, was running behind schedule on her wedding day. She has been since birth. I was literally hollering up the stairs to get her going. That is right. On Maggie’s important day, Mom was yelling, “The photographer is here and you’re late! Your hair is fine. Get your butt down here!”  Moving, isn’t it?

When she came into the kitchen, I saw a cloud of white out of the corner of my eye and barked, “Let’s go, Margaret – they’re waiting for you outside.” Then I turned and looked, and my heart and the world stopped.

Oh, how beautiful. She was just beautiful.

Maggie has always been beautiful both inside and out, but that day she was radiant. She took my breath away. All I could do was stare and give her a goofy smile. Then I dragged her into the living room. Her two little brothers in their usher outfits were having a last-minute practice of the song they would sing during the ceremony. Both growled slightly when I interrupted, then they looked up, saw their big sister and both let out a long, drawn-out “Aaaawww.”And they meant it – it wasn’t sarcasm. Wow, there is hope for humanity.

Even though we were running late, I made them line up for a private photo and had to smile when they lined up out of order. Family habit has my kids lining up by birth age for pictures. My brothers and I do it, too. But on that day, my two rascally, rowdy, rough-and-tumble guys gently pulled their sister between them and towered over her, looking down at her in awe and delight. Five years older than Nick and seven older than Matt, Maggie has always been like a pseudo-mommy to her brothers, but on that day, she was a princess for them to protect and admire.

Just in case you’re wondering, that wore off by the end of the weekend.

My next engraved-in-my head memory is one of our other little princess, granddaughter Layla. She was dressed in her pretty gown – hand-made by my dear friend Karen – and looked so cute. Before the wedding party started down the aisle, Layla and I were escorted down by Curtis Lawrence, who is Maggie’s sort-of cousin. Layla looked up, saw everyone looking at her and immediately decided they were all there to be her admiration crew. She giggled and clapped her hands all the way up the aisle.

You have to appreciate anyone that knows how much the crowd will adore her.

During the ceremony, she busily chewed on a program, the ribbons on her dress and my fingers. She grabbed at her Grandpa’s suspenders, flirted with her Poppy (great-grandpa) and added an occasional coo or squeal, just to remind people this was a fun occasion. The best thing about having the Layla Bean on my lap during the whole ceremony is that I was so busy keeping her busy that I forgot to cry.

An hour or so later, I wasn’t that lucky. My sister-in-law had confiscated the baby, and my husband Eric got up to give a speech. And made me cry. 

Mostly from shock. When did he grow up so much? He welcomed everyone to our home “on behalf of Justine and myself.” Weird… He knows the word ‘behalf?’ 

Then he talked about home. He said home isn’t about a place, but about the creation of a family. “Today,” he said, “Margaret and Luke are creating a home.” That was right around the point I got weepy. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t that eloquent a few months ago.

I laughed along with everyone else when he said it was OK to make compromises with your spouse.

“Every now and then it is OK to say, ‘Yes, Dear,’” he told Luke. 

“And every now and then it is OK to have your husband wake up to the smell of bacon,” he told Maggie.

He was charming and sweet and a little emotional, and I kept wondering where the pod people had stashed my real husband.

At the end of the day, when we had sent Layla away for the night with my parents, stashed our sons at the neighbor’s house, ushered the bride and groom away in their chariot and tucked the photographer under a blanket on the couch, Eric and I sat on the back step for a few quiet moments and looked out into the night.

“We did it,” he said. 

He interpreted my look correctly, smirked and rephrased.

“You did it.”

I just laughed and leaned on his shoulder, and uttered a statement I meant with all of my heart…

“I am never ever doing this again,” I said. “If either one of the boys wants to get married someday, we’ll give them money and tell them to go to Vegas.”

 

It's crazy, it's chaotic... it's Christmas

As an empty nester couple, my husband and I are adapting easily (a little too easily?) to the quiet that reigns in our household. Sure, there’s usually music playing, and we chat constantly with the dog, but it is very different from the constant hustle and bustle of having a bunch of kids in the house. And then a holiday rolls around and the craziness comes with it.

We had our usual whirlwind Christmas chaos, with a quick trip to Forest Lake for a Parenteau family gathering on Saturday, then a Christmas Day event with two of the three kids. We all bumped together in the kitchen, laughed and talked and snitched goodies off each other’s plates, caught up on details of our lives and brought up the same old stories we tell each year. Lots of teasing involved, all around.

My son Nick and his girlfriend Jess showed up just in time for me to hand the gravy-making chores to him. He and I share a love of cooking, so spending time comparing notes and taste-testing is always fun.

Matthew, the baby, came over Monday and just left this morning (Wednesday). He is a joyful little punk to be around, a dreadful tease and says things that make us laugh so hard. Today he stopped by Radio Works before heading back to school in Sioux Falls, S.D., so we put him on the air for our daily “This Day in History” segment. I beat him, but barely.

Sadly, we didn’t get to see our daughter and her little family on Christmas Day. I understand the importance of having your kid wake up in her own bed on Christmas morning, and even encouraged it. How dumb am I? I probably could have guilted them into it.

By late afternoon on Christmas, Eric and I were tired. Having the gang around is tiring. There’s wrestling and teasing and always seems to be some kind of Nerf ammo flying through the air. It makes me wonder how I survived their teenage years. Maybe I was younger then.

There was no repeat of last year’s mustachioed gunslinger fights in the living room, but we did make Matt play Santa, which he hates.

“Why do you always make me do this?” he whined as he sorted out gifts from under the tree.

“Because you’re the youngest,” Jess answered before I could. This is funny, because she is a tiny person, reminds me of a pretty little Goth elf and is not even two years older than Matt. He’s about a foot taller then she is, so I love it when she sasses him.

We have had some interesting adventures on Christmas. There was the year we made Matt dance shirtless to the “Peanut Butter Jelly” song to earn a Monopoly property, the year the kids got a Play TV Baseball game which prompted a Wettschreck World Series, years of Lego building, a very memorable foosball day and afore-mentioned Nerf ammo. They still manage to get underfoot as I’m cooking, yet disappear when clean-up times rolls around until I bellow.

Another crazy, chaotic Christmas. I love it when they all come to visit. And love it when they all go home.