I got home from work today and discovered a message on the answering machine for me. This is itself unusual because there are never messages for me, and even moreso because it was someone asking if I was still interested in a full-time job. Since the woman spoke very loudly as well as sounding like she did so a millimeter from the speaker, I have no idea what company the offer is for. But like I told the guys at work, so long as the job offer isn’t for a cow milker, I’m interested. And if they paid me enough, I’d probably milk cows for a career. Shit, that’d be an easy job. Get up at the crack of dawn, go down to some farm or gigantic milk processing plant, milk three-hundred cows for four hours or so, break for lunch, eat a Philly cheese steak, go back, milk umpteen more cows, and then go home. That there sounds like the life.

My dad said the lady could be a headhunter. I found this disturbing, si I told him that if I do get called in for an interview, I’m gonna be packing heat, ’cause there’s no way some bitch is getting this boy’s noggin. That’s right — 2005 headhunters beware: Josh Bales is very aware of your devilish, cranium-snatching schemes and will have none of it!

JAB