First off, an apology.  If I haven’t been answering your comments as much as usual or visiting your blog as regularly, it is because we are moving.  Today, we’re packing the last of our belongings into boxes and tomorrow the big, luggish, movers will come by with a truck.  Wifesy and I will be doing back-breaking cleaning of ceiling fans and baseboards in a futile attempt to get our deposit back.  It is a busy, busy time.

 

Wifesy and I have moved together 4 times in the 4+ years we’ve been together.  Needless to say, we are experts at it.  By Thursday, I fully expect us to be settled and in working order in our new home.  I’ve told Wifesy that after this move, I only want to move once more, into a house that we own.  A house that – if we want to – we can stay in until death.  I’m not sure my nomadic tendencies will even allow me to be in one place for that long.  However, I’d like the option.  I’d like the option of not having to move one more feckin’ box, ever again.  I guess you can say, I hate moving.  But, I don’t like to talk about hate.  I like to talk about love…

 

What I do love is this blog.  Now I don’t know if it’s the move or if it’s that I’ll be focusing a touch of Sweet Mother love on Le Clown this week or if it’s the dreamer in me, BUT I’ve been thinking a lot about an intern.  As in, I want one.  Sweet Mother has always wanted an intern.  I have a tendency to grossly over estimate the value of the imaginary companies that I’ve set up, such as Sweet Mother.  Today, it seems – to me – that the gross imaginary evaluation has reached a breaking point and we should hire someone.

 

Let’s digress and talk internships for a bit.  I had one, once, back when I was around 19.  Now, the capitalist in me thinks that to a degree, internships are wrong.  Everyone should be paid for everything, whether it’s stuffing and envelope, moderating a comment, or giving a presidential BJ.  However, the socialist-communist in me (redundancy much) feels that someone else should pay this fee.  So, my ethical jury is out when it comes to deciding whether or not the work of an intern is cruel or justified.  I say justified because interns are usually young and if you get to be that young and pretty, well, then someone much older should punish you for it.  So, even though I’m not sure if it’s a good thing – I still want an intern.  Incidentally, I feel the same way about a Vespa motor scooter – I want one – even though I’m not sure if it’s a good thing.  As Wifesy points out, if I get a Vespa, I may get to my location safely or I may end up skinless by the side of the highway.  Interns and motor-scooters – maybe even a Vespa riding intern, accomplishing two dreams in one.  Today, these are my wants.

 

Intern, is that you?

Maybe this is you, intern? And I see you've brought a friend...

 

Issue #1:  THE INTERN NEEDS A NAME.

 

At this particular address of the blogosphere, I am (RIGHTLY) referred to as Sweet Mother.  It seems only fair to me that my dutiful intern should also have a moniker because a) monikers are delightfully ridiculous much like monocles and b) if they should ever want to divorce their resumes from the work “experience” that was Sweet Mother, they can easily do so.  People may say, “Hey, weren’t you that intern named (Moniker X,Y,Z) who worked for Sweet Mother?  Didn’t you do that ungodly thing at Sweet Mother’s behest?”  The ex-intern can simply say, “No, that was not me.  That was Moniker X,Y,Z.”

 

So, they must have a name.  I’ve thought long and hard about this.  And I firmly believe, only one name fits best.  It is…

 

SWEET DODO, THE INTERN

 

It’s very important that we take a moment here because what I have just done, I believe, has never been done before, comedically speaking.  It is the comedic equivalent of a quadruple axle in figure skating.  I have just played a hand known now and forever more as…THE TRIPLE ENTENDRE.  Have you ever heard of one?  Me thinks not.  Yes, indeed, the triple entendre is alive and well.  The triple entendre not only says oodles about the limitless talent of its creator, but it also says something about the reader.  Think about it, the name – SWEET DODO – can be read, rightly, in any of these three separate ways.

 

Oh, I see, SWEET DODO – like the bird.  Sure it’s a bird that lost the ability to fly due to an exorbitant supply of food on the island of Mauritius, yet, there’s something cute about the dodo.  It’s an ugly, crippled, cute like an obese child from the island of America.  Surely those American children with their Type 2 diabetes are only a generation or two away from not being able to walk.  How fitting, then, that an American intern from an American company should be named after the lame dodo.

 

The portly Dodo, waiting for an instruction from SM.

 

Or you might have said to yourself…

 

SWEET DODO – what a lovely name.  Sweet Mother is a CAN-DO sort of person.  So, she must mean DO-DO as an attempt to inspire a young person.  Think you can’t do something, Sweet, Young, Person just out of University?  Never fear, Sweet Mother thinks you CAN DO.  She is telling you as much by calling you, Sweet DO-DO, everyday.  She means it like it sounds, “Go for it, DO-DO, you can DO IT!”

 

Or – all hail – the third option…

 

Perhaps, you’ve just woken up and you’ve run to your email to read my post, after brewing a cup of coffee.  Last night you enjoyed an overabundance of Mexican food or as your intestines like to call it, “MexiCAN’T food” and now, the coffee has hit, your stomach is rumbling and your brain synapses are firing incorrectly.  You say to yourself, SWEET DOO-DOO, that’s not very nice.  Why would Sweet Mother call her new intern the Canadian and American version of a word that children use for excrement?  How nasty.  Sweet Mother has lost it.  Oh, I need to run to the bathroom, “it’s time to drop the kids off at the pool.”

 

So, Sweet Dodo, Sweet DO-DO, or Sweet DOO-DOO, the pronunciation is all up to you.  The qualifications, however, are up to me.  They are:

 

  • Must know 5 or more languages
  • Must be proficient in Photoshop and Space Travel
  • Must have a loose understanding of Quantum Physics
  • Must be able to run the 400 meters in 43 seconds without using your legs (Thank you, Oscar Pistorius)
  • Must be proficient in coffee making, vegetable juicing, homemade soups, programming, coding, muffin baking, web design, and interior design
  • Must have circumnavigated the globe by age 16, using nothing but, the sun, moon, and stars
  • Must have a working knowledge of Hollywood and the comedy/ book publishing industry including extensive, Devil Wears Prada-like knowledge as to who’s an a-hole and who isn’t.  Must know how to navigate a field full of a-holes without actually stepping in sh*t.
  • Must know how to spar and make love, simultaneously.

 

I believe that concludes the requirements, if I have missed any, please let me know.

 

As I move my family and slowly lose my mind this week, I plan to brainstorm both job requirements for Sweet  DoDOo (confusing spelling intended) and the Craigslist ad that I will use to lure in…I mean hire, him or her.  Both will be shared in a later installment.  As always, your ideas are welcome and wanted.  Please leave them below.

 

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Photo creds:  feature, girl-vespa, vespa sidecar, dodo

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