The kid's gotta eat...

Anytime Ma steals a bite of my food, a kid yanks a toy from me, or someone sleeps in my bed-  I instinctively yell, "No, Mine!"


Ma consistently counters with, "Nothing's yours until you buy it yourself."


I can no longer handle watching infants slobber on my choo choo trains or sharing one more bite of my scrumptios applesauce... all because of why? I didn't buy it?? It's time I get a job.


Considering Ma has a camera in my face 24/7 I decided its about time I get compensated for it. Unfortuneately I couldn't convince her to pay up, so I found someone who would. They saw a few mug shots and called me for an interview.


I had a terrible nights sleep and my newly appointed 'reliable' manager slept through her alarm clock, waking me up minutes before our appointment. First words out of my mouth the moment I awoke, "I want meatballs." A few minutes later I was eating the breakfast of champions from a ziplock bag and  my manager and I were cabbin' it to 5th ave.

The ride was strenuous. Was selfishness enough upside for the price of being a working man? And aren't all of Ma's annoying pictures already enough to make me crazy?

Arriving with seconds to spare, and feeling flustered I sat on a stoop a few blocks away from our destination to deal with a minor breakdown.

"GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

                                                  

This is ridiculous! I'm two, I shouldn't have to get a job just to own some real estate. 

"Just stop eating my food... just leave my dump truck alone!" 

"Curse you all!"

A few moments later I pulled myself together and gazed into the two feet of visible hazy sky.  I did just come all this way and eat about 20 meatballs from a plastic bag...

Went in, gave a few high fives, told them a bit about myself and took a tour of the office space. Minutes later I walked out with a contract containing all of their signatures and some blank spaces for mine.

During the cab ride home, I read through every page and took notes on any notable pros and cons. 

Was I really ready to be a working man?

In case you have poor eyesight and can't read my writing:

 -Pros

I'll finally get to say 'No Mine' without being corrected

Maybe Mom will take less pictures of me

Free food on set could mean less of Ma's vegetables 

Could save up to buy Dad that yacht he always wanted

Depending on the shoot, I'd have temporary Moms who are hot, size 0, and 6 feet tall

-Cons

Need to worry if I bash my head in at the playground and bruise my massive head

May have to wear nothing but a diaper during a shoot, misrepresenting the fact Im nearly potty trained

I couldn't decide if the pros outweighed the cons, the cabby had bad BO and I felt a migraine coming on. 

I needed to get out of the vehicle fast and take a moment to collect my thoughts. I jumped out at the nearest putting green.

As any mature individual would, I decided to leave the career decision up to the golf Gods. 7 perfect puts and I'm a working man. 

I now have what most of you lost two years ago.... my short game.

Oh yeah, and a job.


Mom- no more exploiting my face for free... call Ford if you want to book me.  Don't hate... congratulate. 


And spit out that Cheerio kid, go buy your own.