As much as I enjoyed having Doug home while he recuperated from his injuries over the past 2.17 (but who’s counting) years, it’s time for him to head back to work. And as reality sank in early this week, I decided it was time to post a job in Sittercity.com.
“We need an Alice!” screamed my headline.
After a series of days with no response, it dawned on me. The young applicants looking for jobs on Sittercity.com have no idea who Alice is.
I’ve had a lot of “Damn I’m Old” moments as of late, like today, when I confiscated a cell phone from an incensed eighth-grader and pointed out that when I was his age, we didn’t even have cell phones. Or during a recent conversation, when I actually thought “dope” was still considered marijuana.
Completely off the lines of incensed dope-shooting teenagers, does anyone know of any nanny/cook/housekeepers in the Hartford County? I’m looking for someone to transform my chaos to smooth-sailing bliss for 50 hours per week. My peeps, hook a sistah up. Can ya dig it?
Ah, fuck it. I make Alice look hipper and trendier than the offspring of Justin Bieber and Hannah Montana. May I still use the word “hip”?