Where is the Exit?

It turns out that having a job is much less enjoyable, though no less difficult, than not having a job. I've been gainfully employed now, at least, when my checks are honored, for seven months. Okay, i lie. I was a consultant for three months and i've worked for four. but i have been doing the whole respect-the-boss-because-he's-the-guy-who-signs-the-questionable-checks thing now for a while and, frankly, i would like out.

In these seven months, I've dedicated myself fully to the intelligent production of ideas and solutions and remedies and office congeniality, all of which was apparently missing before I walked into that freezer box of an office and took a seat. And, while progress has been noticed by some, it certainly ain't getting noticed by the boss man. In fact, I am fairly certain that he's surreptitiously sliding into work on weekends to consider methods to set us all back four paces.

To that end, and hopefully for a limited time, I am offering services in the here and now. Anyone like to have a tour guide of San Francisco? I'm your girl. Looking for a writer who can bust out 500-word pieces in less than five minutes? Pick me! Do you want someone to walk your dog? I could do that too, but only if your dog is not a giant-headed bull mastiff because one of those tried to take my head once perhaps in jealous fit of anger that his watermelon couldn't do the complex computin' that my ol' canteloupe can. I don't really like chihuahuas either. Oh, that reminds me, se habla Espanol.

I'm looking to make more moola than I do now, in real money, which, when compared with the occasional funny money that my work pays me, might not be difficult to drum up. Really, I'm not kidding. Ready, and... give me a jingle.