He Works Hard For the Money
The frequency of my posting has significantly decreased since I began working a real job. It is not that I have less Good Ideas to write about, it is just that all of my Good Ideas revolve around how to make babies stop crying.
Unfortunately I have been informed that many of my ideas, such as my automatic baby-patting system, would not be approved by any hospital due to several liability issues.
People make an array of faces when I tell them that I am a male nurse. Those faces all get a little more pronounced when I say I am a male nurse that works with babies in the NICU.
The fact is I have zero qualms about my current status. I have a very hot wife, I have a beer belly, I enjoy hunting, watching football and Ultimate Fighting, and I happen to pick outfits out for babies each night so that they will match their crib sheets and subsequently look cute.
Like most jobs, one of the best parts about my job is that I get paid to do it.
A Penny Saved (is nowhere to be found)
Now that my wife and I are DINKs (Dual Income, No Kids) we have been able to pay off a few things, including both of our cars. Though it would have been really nice to live car-payment free, there was no guarantee that I would even live much longer if I continued driving my truck in its current state of disrepair.
I know absolutely nothing about trucks yet even I could tell that my truck needed to be taken into the backyard and shot before it hurt someone. On the plus side, my wife often had a warm dinner waiting for me when I got home because she could hear my truck coming from six miles away.
My truck was so loud that everyone in adjacent cars, waiting at cross walks, or putting away groceries in parking lots would take a moment to look disapprovingly at the terrible noises coming from my truck. People with whom I exchanged quick, awkward glances seemed to be saying “can’t you hear that?” with their eyes.
For those who are guilty of giving me or any unfortunate soul this type of look and wish to gain a more empathetic view, simply stand in a crowded line at the grocery store and release a giant, audible fart.
The last straw was on one recent occasion after hitting a pothole, the sound of metal hitting metal from within my truck was so loud that a nearby jogger actually startled and threw his hands up defensively as if I had just jumped out of a bush with a chainsaw and hockey mask.
Needless to say, the truck had to go.
On The First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave To Me…
As Christmas arrived, I decided to surprise my wife and buy her the new car; a brand new 2012 Camry, with leather interior, heated seats, satellite radio and more.
In return I would now drive her light blue 2006 Camry with 160,000 miles on it.
Her elated reaction on Christmas Eve was enough for me to justify giving up my new car; I felt like Bob Barker minus the tan, leathery skin.
Then I had to face reality. In an instant I had become a male nurse that works with babies and drives a light blue 2006 Camry. I might as well have gone and bought a nice dress and subscribed to Oprah magazine.
After eating a whole gallon of ice cream to stave off my depression, I called my best friend to talk about how guys are jerks. Actually that did not happen, but I knew I needed a Good Idea to try to save what remained of my manhood.
Pimping My Ride
In today’s world, success is based on a recipe of appearance mixed with perception. Take Paris Hilton for example. She takes on the appearance of a rich and successful person, when in fact she has done nothing successfully in her life, with the exception of being born to rich parents.
Using this recipe, I chose something that people perceive as manly and impressive in cars; Speed. There is a reason that NASCAR is considered manly and impressive regardless of the brightly decorated cars that advertise for Special K cereal and Tide with bleach.
To give off the appearance that my car is really fast and furious, I added a few special touches:
The true test would be to discover how people perceived my new racing-striped Camry. I figured the faster my car’s picture showed up on Fail blog.com, the better chance that it was perceived as serious (and therefore manly).
However, my verification came just 5 days later in the form of my first speeding ticket. I was driving with a large cluster of cars that were all going the same speed as myself, and the police car pulled me over out of everyone! Mission Accomplished!
When I asked the young police woman if she pulled me over because of my racing stripes she laughed and told me no. I knew she was lying because she averted her eyes when she answered, which is a dead giveaway. When I told her this, she stopped laughing and handed me the ticket.
Who has ever heard of a female police officer anyway?