Some of you may be wondering what it’s like to be Vomitola. It’s rigorous, for starters.
The other day I was at Target buying a huge monstrosity pack of toilet paper, and I was feeling rather grumpy about the whole endeavor, but then I realized I was the silly person who insists on dabbling in the work of the normal, and I could have sent my assistant. Â Suddenly the whole errand became a lark! How exciting to get out and mingle with the common folk. They’ll go back to their barns and sheds and culverts and hunker down with microwaved meals, but I’ll get to go home and be me! It is not possible to have pleasure without a little suffering, even if the suffering is the exclusive domain of Target shoppers who are not I.
If I keep my sunglasses on, there is a good chance I won’t even get recognized. The perfect crime!
Every morning, I sleep in, and then Mr. H prepares me a cup of coffee. He was supposed to go to Finland this week, and I was already quailing at the prospect of making my own coffee. It is simply impossible. If I didn’t have people, I don’t know what. Well, I would use my natural pluck and intellect and charm to find more people, that’s what.
Still in my dressing gown, I drape myself languidly at my desk, congratulating myself on its understated style. I open iTunes and inevitably blast a little Visage. A rightfully adoring subject gave me one of these babies, so of course I have the highest quality musical experience one can have with a laptop. Top shelf, all the way. I summon my accountants and have them peer into the money bin, and then I reflect on what needs to be accomplished for the day. Then I assign those tasks to other people, although if they don’t want to be fired, they should have already known what they needed to do.
Mr. H is in awe of my wakeless path through the storms of fortune each day, and he consulted me about a work-related matter. Work is such a groggy and distant concept, but I thought I’d humor the little jackanapes. It was cute how he screwed up the courage to ask, and the diamond necklace didn’t hurt either. “Tell me about Steve Strange,” he said. I pointed out that Steve once spent more than Â£100,000 on drugs in under a year. “Well, that priest on the news the other night spent $4,000 per month on porn,” he offered. Oh, darling. No. That’s a mere $48,000 per annum, and think of the exchange rate! Accountant!
After much discussion and careful consideration, he selected the following for the opening screen of a PowerPoint presentation.
Now he will know what it’s like to triumph. He’ll either be fired or promoted to CEO, no doubt.
So next time you’re in a bind, feel free to ask us how to proceed. If there is anything in life we have in spades, it’s ideas! We are imagineers.
Excellent. Now we need only hire someone to *be* us. Reality itself is exhausting!
I hate to open the kimono so suddenly, but I’ve actually been employed as Licketysplit since July, 2004! I am not sure where Licketysplit is, but when last I heard, there was a pressing legal matter in play.