Dream Jobs... Please Tell Me How to Get These...

Before I get to enchanting you with my regular post today, I wanted to say thank you for all the wonderful support of my little blog. Also, 10 followers in 10 posts!!! Yeah, pretty good start I’d say. Let’s keep this growth rate going!!! Seriously though, thank ya’ll so much for all the comments and nice words. They make me very happy, and make me think that this “showing people what you write” thing isn’t all that bad.

On to today’s post…

Dream Jobs…

I have already blogged that my degree major is the redheaded, stepchild of the history department, so it should come to no surprise that I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

When I was a wee little Lemon I had monumental hopes and dreams about my future as an Illustrator/Astronomer. Evidently my art skills peaked about when my handwriting skills peaked, 4th grade. Up until 4th grade I was the go to gal for Art Awards at the end of the school year and cute “elementary school” looking frogs and Picasso knockoffs. Then I hit middle school and stopped taking art, and my sister quickly became the artistically gifted member of the family. Whatever she paints me lemons, so I don’t really hold a grudge. Astronomer died as a future career in middle school when I realized that although they can make up to 100 dollars and hour (yes, I looked that up when I was 10) they also have to go to school for like… ever!!!

Then as I got older and wiser I decided, after my near date with death during Hurricane Fran, I would like to be a meteorologist. This stuck for a long time. I even took GMO (Geology, Meteorology, and Oceanography) my senior year of high school. Yes it was rocks for jocks, but whatev… I memorized 75 different minerals and rocks, and made a weather diary I still have today. I applied to two colleges because of my meteorology dream. Then right before it was time to pick a school, I got completely freaked out and was all, “Wooh… that’s a lot of math. Maybe this isn’t the right thing for me considering I barely passed Algebra II and PreCal was all Greek to me”.

Fashion!!! I love clothes!!! Why not become a fashion design major??? (forehead smack) It took me a semester of memorizing 120 different fabrics to remember I hate stupid, shallow bitches, so maybe this isn’t the right place for me either… (Plus in my first lab where we got to burn and rip holes in different fabrics to learn more about them, the kinda good looking guy who sat across from me went to the same Church Camp as I did, and I’m pretty sure he is gay and a cheerleader… yeah… he was totally awkward because he thought I would be totally awkward.. which I was, but not because he’s gay, but just because I’m a totally awkward person…) Enter American Studies and the beginning of the end to it ever being easy to get a job doing something that might mildly interest me.

I hate when you tell people you don’t know what you want to do and they immediately ask, “Well what do you like to do?” Really Ass Hole… you think I’ve haven’t tried that already? You think I haven’t searched Craigslist, CareerBuilder, and HotJobs for “sit on your ass, drink beer, and be paid 50,000 dollars a year” job. Because trust me they don’t exists. And FU for making me think about a career in lazy and thus making me sad about my life.

Dream Jobs…

Anthony Bourdain Stylist: First of all I think we could be friends. Why??? I saw that episode where they were filming in Beirut when the bombs started falling and I think I would have lost my shit. Which all of them did until they held up in that hotel on the hill and the bombs weren’t quite so close. And then they all when into “reflection” mode. I could do this. I can be completely freaked out and then write amazingly emo journal entries. (Trust me I have them on a shelf in my bedroom.) Anthony doesn’t do cocaine anymore. Cocaine freaks the Hell out of me. I could help him stay clean. Lastly they went to the restaurant where nachos were invented in Mexico!!! I mean I should be a part of any TV show that goes there. (Oh, and why they were experiencing the awesome history del nacho, a camera man hit his head and passed out and had to be taken to the ER. WFT Camera Man!!??!!?? A: I’m not that clumsy. B: I would have at least rallied together a little bit better than that looser.)
Why become his stylist…? Did I mention I have a semester of Fashion Design under my belt? Plus the man only wears black and grey. How hard could it be?

Hotel/Spa/3 Star Michelin Restaurant Critic: How awesome would it be to travel the world (on someone else’s dime) and only sleep, relax, and eat in the best of the best??? Now, don’t start the judging. I get that you should emerge yourself in local culture. Eat where the locals eat, sleep in homely hostels and B&Bs, blah, blah, blah. I get it. Been there. Done that. I’ve stayed in “hole in the wall” hostels, survived on bread and tomatoes (there are much more important things to buy in Amsterdam), and slept on trains. I’m ready for the good life. Four Seasons? Yes Please! Exotic mud wraps? Bring ‘em on! Sweetbreads from Manresa? OMG shove them down my throat!!! Then I write a nice little review, and bingo! CondeNast, feel free to ask me for an interview in the comment section below.

Personal Shopper (but only for LSU Friend and Davis Girl): 50 different cotton dresses from Target. Check. Red lipstick. Check. Done. Pay me please.

Dog Walker: I know a real job I could go to craigslist and get. But… (oh yeah there is a but) there are some stipulations.
1.Must pay at least 45,000$ (I’m a really good dog walker, honest)
2.Only cute dog owners may apply. ( I mean people with cute dogs, not cute people.)
3.Additional 10,000$ for picking up poo (plus additional 5,000 for Extra Large dog’s poo)

Blogger: …dream big… …dream big…