Vocationally Overwhelmed

Dear Diary,

This will be a more serious post, as opposed to my usual, more frivolous ramblings. On this occasion, I am concerned about my future. More specifically: my future career. I have recently discovered that I am multi-talented and destined for greatness. No, this is not arrogant and undeserved self-praise. This is fact: carefully weighed, undeniably ascertained, and overwhelmingly promising. But perhaps it would be best for me to explain how I determined the simple truth that I am skilled and prepared for a multitude of careers.

To begin with, I had been watching Law & Order: Not only was I able to see through the silly investigations and to determine the culprit long before the supposed professional law enforcement team, but I am absolutely convinced that I would make an excellent D.A. I am very good at striding across rooms and at commanding things authoritatively. Furthermore, I ask questions all the time, therefore I would be really good at cross-examinations. Basically, any job along these lines is in the bag. Big Time.

Next, I flipped channels to watch golf. This is probably the most ridiculous and simple career for me to take over. I went to golf camp, I've driven a few golf carts in my day (and without getting them stuck between trees, ahem, or jumping into a tree, ahem, ladies!), and I have a lot of plaid clothing (thanks Grandma!). I would be much nicer to watch than half of those dudes, and I would totally skip the LPGA and go straight for the big guns. Bring it on, bitches.

In addition, it has come to my attention, that I should be a therapist because whenever I watch Maury, Oprah or Dr. Phil, I TOTALLY know what they're gonna say before they say it. Also, I could totally be one of those fashion critics. Actually, I owe it to humanity to be one because a) the people who do it now dress like clowns and b) I'm awesome, enough said.

Last, but not least, (I have to admit, this is the one that poses the most problems):
After hours of careful observation and study, I know I could be a model--correction--Supermodel. Except for my height, weight and facial features, I've got it locked DOWN. That's right, just give me some major plastic surgery, really high heels/leg extensions, ex-lax or eating disorder and watch me do my little thing on the catwalk, yeah, shake my little surgically corrected tush on the catwalk. Come on, Tyra, make it happen.

I am so sexy it hurts.

Watch out world, I'm coming to get ya!

Modestly yours,
Well-Rounded Professional Professional