Always on the prowl for improved employment opportunities, I banged out this succinct, well-crafted cover letter to send to perspective employers. I think it's a winner. All you need do to apply it to your own personal situation is change around a few words. Kind of like Mad Libs.
I guarantee Goldman Sachs will be barking down your door in no time if you use the following:
Dear Sirs, Madams and people who may be able to pay my child support,
I am writing you not only to inquire about the positions you may have available at your esteemed corporation, but also to inform you that, if hired, you will have under your wing the totality of my epic awesomeness - a force reaching echelons of douchebaggery the likes of which haven’t been seen since Jesse Spano did drugs to stay up and study.
-Remember when Sarah Palin went back to Alaska and shut the fuck up? I'm more awesome than that.
-Remember when Bambi’s mom got pwnt by a dude with a glock? I’m more awesome than that.
-Remember when the T-1000 punched his arm through that chick’s face? I’m more awesome than that.
-Remember Paris Hilton, that guy and night vision? Yeah. Definitely more awesome. Because when I make porns (and I do), the camera work doesn’t look like the Blair Witch Project.
-Remember when Jar Jar Binks got his head knocked off by a moving city bus…
Shit, that last one didn’t happen, but if it did, I would be more awesome than that.
Just to help quantify the breathtaking enormity of my awesome quotient, I’ve laid it out in simple chapter and verse form below, using an easy-to-understand formula based on the size of some normal household items:
A spatula < A loaf of bread < Yankee Stadium < Mars < Patrick Ewing’s Penis < MY @WESOMENESS
Hopefully that makes sense, but it might not because I was a liberal arts major.
My point here? I will bring this formidable, nut-stomping power to your company with the commanding authority of Vince Carter at a Special Olympics Dunk Contest.
For reference, you should know that I own no fewer than three (3) Sean Jean suits. I drive a black (I’m not racist) Ford Explorer (go America!), and nary a moment passes when rap music or ‘90s rock isn’t blasting from my factory-installed panty-wetting speakers. I’ve hooked up with many girls, none of whom shopped heavily at the Girth Department, lacked front teeth, or were below a beer-goggle 7, say.
I drink Red Bull.
You should hire me.
Kindest Salutations,
D. J. R. Hennessey, Esq.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
I Don't Have Anything Useful To Say
I won't even pretend my posts will be constructive or informative, nor do I think my life is interesting enough to warrant a blog. I'm funny maybe 30 percent of the time. Tops.
Weak humor. Uninteresting life. Useless information.
*Light bulb*
A blog is born. You'll be able to distract yourself here in not dissimilar ways to what you do at work when you have: facebook; twitter; OMG! with those busted pics of J. Simp. and her GUNT and mom jeans whining off key; and the forecast for 9-12 p.m. Friday night from weather.com, buried in a bunch of minimized windows on your computer's desktop below the shit you're actually supposed to be doing, lest your boss comes in and blows up your spot. Yeah, we've all hastily clicked that little dash in the upper right corner at one time or another.
But I digress. Speaking of work, I'm busy writing a helpful, foolproof (and yes it's 'foolproof, not 'fullproof', the same way it's 'intents and purposes', not 'intensive purposes'. And don't get me started on 'I could care less'...THAT MEANS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY) cover letter right now for those of you searching for a job. It's guaranteed to land you the position of your dreams. I'll post it later.
There will also be pictures here along the line. They'll be work safe. Most of them.
My thought for the day: Why do criminals always have their shirts off?
I work at a newspaper, so, aside from making a wage equivalent to the Malaysian kids who built my sneakers, I have the privilege of listening to the police scannner all day. Invariably, all of the degenerates who call this fair city home MUST act felonious sans torso clothing.
"Short, white male. Approximately 155 pounds. Clean shaven. Blue jeans. Timberland boots. No shirt."
Why? I don't get it. Do you get hot when stealing a flat screen TV? Maybe you do. Flat screens are heavy. Probably much heavier when you're loaded on heroin...or maybe they're lighter when you're loaded on heroin? I wouldn't know. I've never done heroin. *Scribbles a Stick-It note for the weekend*
So if not the heroin...then what? What makes these guys take their tops off?
Well, they're sprinting away from angry cops a lot. That could make them hot. But are you really thinking about ditching your E-Nyce apparel when the pigs are rolling in 6 deep? I doubt it. And it happens in the winter, too. "Heavy set black male. Running towards the train station. Can't locate him in the blinding blizzard. Stole an iPod, a wallet and a green card from a Hispanic day laborer. Suspect is wielding a snow shovel. Heavy boots. Winter hat. Snow pants. No shirt."
WTF? I don't care how much you run, no one gets that hot in the winter. If I were a criminal - and I'm not because nolles don't count the same way hookups with ugly girls don't count when you're drunk - I'd keep my clothes on as long as possible to diminutize the impending onslaught of tasers and nightsticks.
After much brain-wracking, I haven't been able to come to a reasonable conclusion. I just don't get it. Shirts can deaden the bite of k-9 dogs, provide warmth and add to personal style and street cred. And you can't get a #1 from McDonalds without one. And let's face it, if you're desperate enough to steal a shopping cart from K-Mart, you do a lot of your eating at the golden arches because you can't afford The Food of Upper-Middle Class White Girls Named Kaitlyn and Summer Who Drive Their Parent-Bought M3 Though They Have $80,000 In Student Loans.
Also known as sushi.
But that's for another post.
Keep your damn shirts on. No one wants to see your National Geographic nipples on the front page tomorrow.
Weak humor. Uninteresting life. Useless information.
*Light bulb*
A blog is born. You'll be able to distract yourself here in not dissimilar ways to what you do at work when you have: facebook; twitter; OMG! with those busted pics of J. Simp. and her GUNT and mom jeans whining off key; and the forecast for 9-12 p.m. Friday night from weather.com, buried in a bunch of minimized windows on your computer's desktop below the shit you're actually supposed to be doing, lest your boss comes in and blows up your spot. Yeah, we've all hastily clicked that little dash in the upper right corner at one time or another.
But I digress. Speaking of work, I'm busy writing a helpful, foolproof (and yes it's 'foolproof, not 'fullproof', the same way it's 'intents and purposes', not 'intensive purposes'. And don't get me started on 'I could care less'...THAT MEANS THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU ARE TRYING TO SAY) cover letter right now for those of you searching for a job. It's guaranteed to land you the position of your dreams. I'll post it later.
There will also be pictures here along the line. They'll be work safe. Most of them.
My thought for the day: Why do criminals always have their shirts off?
I work at a newspaper, so, aside from making a wage equivalent to the Malaysian kids who built my sneakers, I have the privilege of listening to the police scannner all day. Invariably, all of the degenerates who call this fair city home MUST act felonious sans torso clothing.
"Short, white male. Approximately 155 pounds. Clean shaven. Blue jeans. Timberland boots. No shirt."
Why? I don't get it. Do you get hot when stealing a flat screen TV? Maybe you do. Flat screens are heavy. Probably much heavier when you're loaded on heroin...or maybe they're lighter when you're loaded on heroin? I wouldn't know. I've never done heroin. *Scribbles a Stick-It note for the weekend*
So if not the heroin...then what? What makes these guys take their tops off?
Well, they're sprinting away from angry cops a lot. That could make them hot. But are you really thinking about ditching your E-Nyce apparel when the pigs are rolling in 6 deep? I doubt it. And it happens in the winter, too. "Heavy set black male. Running towards the train station. Can't locate him in the blinding blizzard. Stole an iPod, a wallet and a green card from a Hispanic day laborer. Suspect is wielding a snow shovel. Heavy boots. Winter hat. Snow pants. No shirt."
WTF? I don't care how much you run, no one gets that hot in the winter. If I were a criminal - and I'm not because nolles don't count the same way hookups with ugly girls don't count when you're drunk - I'd keep my clothes on as long as possible to diminutize the impending onslaught of tasers and nightsticks.
After much brain-wracking, I haven't been able to come to a reasonable conclusion. I just don't get it. Shirts can deaden the bite of k-9 dogs, provide warmth and add to personal style and street cred. And you can't get a #1 from McDonalds without one. And let's face it, if you're desperate enough to steal a shopping cart from K-Mart, you do a lot of your eating at the golden arches because you can't afford The Food of Upper-Middle Class White Girls Named Kaitlyn and Summer Who Drive Their Parent-Bought M3 Though They Have $80,000 In Student Loans.
Also known as sushi.
But that's for another post.
Keep your damn shirts on. No one wants to see your National Geographic nipples on the front page tomorrow.
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