jobs at the woman's colony

I'm a realist. If Mrs. G gets the Woman's Colony up and running for the enjoyment of her readers, there will still be some responsibility to be had there. She will need help, make no doubt of it, in order to keep things running smoothly. We cannot leave this to men, we have established that much.

And so, consider this my application for a position at The Woman's Colony. I would make a fine group leader. But perhaps my talents lay elsewhere and would be more beneficial: fundraising.

Oh sure, Mrs. G promises long, lazy days of reading, spa treatments and bonding conversation. But we need to pay for it. Mrs. G has lots of ideas for funding The Colony, including turning tricks and celebrity endorsement.

But I must hearken (again with the British spelling) back to my freshman year at university. Or hearken further, to the summer before freshman year. I was employed full time at a well-paying job. Every penny I made went towards the cost of tuition and books for the upcoming academic year a new truck, a new dog, private pilot's lessons, going out with friends.

Thus, the day of reckoning arrived. My mother, The Fan knew that I'd not set aside one single penny towards the school year. She anticipated the whining, the pleading, the eye-fluttering that I would present to my father, The Secret Weapon. It was true. That was my financial plan.

The night before registration day, my friends invited me to go - to of all places - the race track. Having never been before and always up for new things wanting to get away from my mother, I split for the track immediately, where I placed the last few dollars to show for my summer of work on some special kind of race that I don't really understand but it had to do with three horses placing in three races or something like that... and of course you know where this is going...

The Fan woke me early the next morning to chastise me for my flagrant disregard of my financial responsibility and was met with a fistful of cash that paid for my tuition, my books, and then some - including a fistful of memberships in the social clubs on campus. Ha! I showed her!

Job skill number two: I should have a job at The Colony because I can look into the future and project the needs that we women might have. Why, I have already left a contingency plan for my bedridden years to deal with that recurring little hair that grows on my chin:

Yes, I am an over-planner, unlike my pre-college summer. I always have the essentials tucked away on my person, so I'm good in a pinch:

And you may remember that I 'fessed up to the fact that when I laugh too hard, a little pee comes out. I've taken care of that for the future too, and I will gladly share:

But the more obvious reason that I am a perfect candidate for - dare I say it - some sort of administrative position at The Woman's Colony - is that like our fearless leader Mrs. G, I too have had issues with my hair over the years.

It began at the hands of The Fan:

And later, a lesser-maintenance hairdo to see me through grade school:

But high school approached, and I heard that hair was IMPORTANT there...

Truth be told, this one was a bit of a costume of sorts but I wore it for the entire day, well past the point where I needed to wear it and I think that also says something about my dedication.

And so, fellow Woman's Colony members, let me work for you. I don't want this to be a long and ugly campaign. I'd like to have it sewn up before the convention.