OK. Now remember, we’re Blogging for Bitter Women, and–male or female–no matter your age–kids–no kids–we all have thought we have a (fill in the blank) job.

 I’ve been around long enough to (dimly) recall the [wink, wink] talk of referring to the little woman as a Domestic Engineer (which was designed to make homemakers feel better about all the grunge, snot and excrement the job involves.)

Our good friends at MSN’s Careerbuilder division (hmmm?) give us some truly yuckey job descriptions for our consideration.  Want to feel better about yours? Have a look at the Slime Line Worker. Tired of wiping poopy little behinds? Consider the Proctologist.  (How these folks got onto the same list, though, eludes me, as one requires a BS, MD, Internship then Specialty. I make that roughly 15 years of training.)  The SLW earns $9.87/hour, whereas the Proctologist’s average annual salary divides out to $186.90/hour [that is based on a 40 hour week, 52 weeks annually.]

I can identify with several, as it happens; when I cannot go on, slide off into a deep, dark depression, well the coal miner’s job sounds a lot like that.  The Coroner description hits close to home, as well, except my clients are all alive, talk back and want lunch RIGHT NOW.  Give yourself a break, BWs. Pour a cuppa, put your feet up and consider a job swap with any of these.  Tell us how it turns out—you get special Braggin’ Rights if you write your response as poetry. While Jayne is recuperating, we’ll tape it on her fridge.  TTFN.

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The other day I actually read the instructions that come with Tampons. Seriously. There’s instructions. You’d think it would be rather obvious, but hell they give instructions on boxes of figs, so sure, why not? Besides, if you’re 12 years old and feeling left to your own devices, it could be a good thing, although I vaguely remember being 12 years old (the last time I actually bothered to look at those instructions) and being very confused by the crap illustrations. Yes, guys, it comes with pictures. But they are the most peculiar pictures of hoo-hoos I’ve ever seen. It’s like they were trying incredibly hard to be non-erotic to the point of even outdoing the non-eroticosity of high school ‘health’ textbooks.Ever since then I’ve gotten into reading the instructions on heretofore ignored household products. I cannot believe how stupid people, both manufacturers/marketing/labelling people and consumers, must be for these things to have come about.

Exhibit 1:

Right. Ears I’ve heard of, but are there people out there so delicate that they use implements to pick their noses? Tissues, sure. Sometimes ya gotta tidy up, but this is a tool, folks, and it never never never occured to me to stick it up my nose. Till now. Now it’s all I can think about. What if….

Exhibit 2:

Our drugs are so mystically powerful, that if you let the little buggers even SEE it, irreparable harm could be done.

Exhibit 3:

I so much enjoyed the fact that this drug instruction sheet included the baby-talk translation of the word “rectum” that I added my own, in case someone taking these drugs (which are part of a fertility regimen, btw), is not mature enough to know what their vagina is either. If you notice the last bit, it also made me want to go ask my pharmacist how to put something up my ass.

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Am I the only person in the world who hates optical illusions? (click image to make it even bigger and scarier)

Seriously… isn’t that horrifically freaky? I find this stuff usually on StumbleUpon, but this particular one I got from Grapes 2.0.

These things make me feel stupid and like all my people aren’t onside. My eyes just shouldn’t be allowed to disagree with my brain like that.

Everyone work together dammit! Life is hard enough without crap like this. Seriously.

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