Life is just too short. I say no, no, no.

Let's be real honest here, this job isn't rocket science. No job is, not even an actual rocket scientist because how hard could it be to do experiments on rockets? It either blasts off or it doesn't. So why must new job training be so difficult? Every employer shoves so much shit down your throat in the first week you can hardly breath, and when you do your breath reeks of shit. It's just so annoying. Ease off, why can't I just learn by doing? Does anybody really learn from piles of packets and tutorial videos circa 1991 with the guy from Reading Rainbow? I can't imagine so. The only thing I took away is that technology has improved quite a bit, and so have neon lights.

I can sum this job up into two reality shows: Millionaire Matchmaker and Pawn Stars. That's what I do. I'm a matchmaker for employees and companies, and a negotiator for them when they decide it's gonna work out. So all I need to do to be good at this job is watch a shit ton of Patty and a shit ton of Chumlee. I need an insecure, chubby blonde assistant and old man boss who dresses like a ringmaster. My millionaire calls in, tells me what they're looking for, and then it's up to me to go through my candidate pool to find the ones who are qualified, have a good degree, and will agree to not have sex on the first date. Hopefully all works out so then I can take on the role of negotiator. They make me an offer, I then make a counteroffer (with a little bit of sass about how I could never accept something so low because it's going to take a lot of work to fix up) they come back, and then I have to call my historical advisor to get the DL on the item's authenticity. See, it's all one in the same. So much in life can be learned from reality television. Teen Mom: don't have unprotected sex in high school, unless you have a contract with MTV. The Bachelorette: don't expect to find love on a show where guys willingly choose to live in a house full of other douche bags. If I were a GDI I'd input a frat joke here, but I'm not, frat/sorority love forever!!! Swamp People: incest is against the law for a reason. Real Housewives of New Jersey/Shore/Jerseylicious: Everybody makes mistakes, even God.

So I obviously understand this job, but what I still can't grasp are the amount of hours I'm expected to work it for. Like last night for example, after all the shenanigans of riding the train home and then walking to my house and taking Harlow to the park by the time I got home it was already 7 p.m. And let me tell you, I had to fight to get on that 5:20 train from downtown, it was packed! Sweaty people were pushing up on me and shoving me from all sides. But I held my ground, I've got bows sharper than the knives in my old knife kit, so I just stuck my hands tight on my hips and dared someone to get close me. I was the first one on the train and even managed to snag a seat. I know that probably surprises you, I can come off as a real sweetheart. But don't let the sundress and Norfolk flowing blonde hair fool you, I can hold my own against anybody. But like I said, I wasn't at home on my couch until roughly 7:00 p.m. By the time Chris and I had dinner and cleaned up it was 8:00 p.m. Wtf. I still had so much to do, but my bedtime was in two hours. And the worst part is the thought that when you go to bed you're that much closer to starting the bull shit day all over again. Three in a half hours at home in exchange for about ten hours on the grind. That just does't suit well with me, so I don't intend to do it for long.

Call me old fashioned, or naive, or whatever, but I'm gonna do something that I love. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent," and the sign in my middle school gym said, "what is cool isn't always right, and what is right, isn't always cool." I don't know what either of those things mean, but I bet both people who made the signs did something they loved. Well probably not the second person because they sound like a real loser, but Eleanor seemed like she had her shit together. I'm not saying it's going to be easy, but God I hope it is because I tend to give up quickly... But I'm really going to try. The thought of living my life working a mediocre job that I hate seriously makes me sick to my stomach. Life is too short. Especially if you live it right. Look at the 27 club. Think all of those people died with a smile on their face? You bet they did. I can still picture Amy Winehouse's cracked out, missing-teeth, million dollar smile shining up at me from her grave. RIP Amers. Guess you should have tried just a bit harder to go to rehab... I say no, no no.

Time for another day.