The Job of the Century!

As I pondered the meaning of life a few questions arose. Where I am going to be in a month, this summer, next year, next decade? Who will I be? What will I be?

I have all ready passed through one quarter life crisis and am not ready for another emotional roller coaster anytime soon. So what job would be best for me?

Some would shout, "Be a plumber! You have the crack for it!" And others would encourage me to explore the fields of engineering, finance or medicine. But to address that trio of careers I have a well constructed sentence: If I built a building the foundation would crumble shortly before my financing would go bankrupt due to my illegal doses of prescription medicine.

No, the professional world is not for me. I found my home at a place only few have ever had the opportunity to work. I spent three months of my life working at the Deseret Industries.

During that adventurous quarter of a year I met some of the most bizarrely delightful people in my life! I acquired an adoptive mother, an older lover, a gaggle of fans and a rather odd obsession with washing my hands.

I feared every day that I would contract some type of communicable disease. The things I saw come through that thrift store were both amazing and disturbing. Some of my favorite donations that came to that center of antique trash include: a bag of poop, a home enema kit (used), a golden size 68 Double E bra, a pair of doggy diapers labeled "For Bitches in Heat", and two pairs of breast implants. It was never a dull moment at the Brigham City D.I.!

As Libby Mae Brown said in the epic monologue from Waiting For Guffman, "I will always have have a home at the D.Q." I will always have a home at the D.I. I will always have a place to go if I can't become that engineer doctor money man thingy...