Bitch Wanted: Inquire Within

I ain’t rich yet, but at 55, there’s still time for me to die a wealthy man. Inheriting a ton of money remains a possibility. Mom buys lottery tickets, and if she ever wins, well… I’ll be rich. If I wasn’t too cheap to buy a ticket, I could win the lottery. It could happen.

My cheapness is a defining characteristic. This is not the same as being thrifty. Nope. Huge difference. A thrifty person doesn’t waste money. Someone who is thrifty knows the $100 model is sometimes a better buy than the $19.95 model I always prefer. I’m cheap, not thrifty.

I’m too cheap to pay someone to do things I’m perfectly capable of doing myself. Of course, things that would require me to use any kind of tool are really beyond my capability — along with anything mechanical, electrical, or hydraulic, including, but not limited to the repair or maintenance of various plumbing fixtures in the typical home.

When something stops working, my favorite tool is the telephone. I’ve got the guys who work on my car, the handyman I found when I bought the house, and the maintenance company for my heat pump on speed dial. For technological issues, I still call on the FMOE (Finest Man On Earth aka my most recent ex). But now that he’s approaching his mid-30s, his ability to help dwindles with each new Acrobat and Microsoft update.

Housecleaning, mowing, laundry, shopping, a reasonable facsimile of cooking — these largely menial chores I can handle, though FMOE will tell you that shopping and cooking are tasks I’ll avoid at every opportunity. Of course, shirking these detestable chores hasn’t been an option since we split up six months ago. Whining doesn’t work anymore.

What I need is a bitch, and if I ever get rich, I’m going to get me one — and I ain’t talking about no female dog. I have one of them. Toodles is no help around the house. She’s no better with tools than I am, and hides under the bed when the vacuum cleaner comes out. I will say she’s great about keeping her rawhide strip hoard all in one place, and she’s not even the tiniest bit needy — as long as she’s in my lap and it’s not chew time, or hug time, or time for her walk.

Hug time is the newest addition to our routine. She’ll sit between my legs while I write for hours. But she does have a limit, and when she decides I’ve been working long enough, she let’s me know it’s hug time. First she sits up and turns around so she’s looking at me. If When I ignore her, she paws my hand, first with just one paw, escalating to two with just a few shakes of a chihuahua’s tail. She doesn’t quit pawing until I stop typing and lay the recliner all the way back. Then she jumps up on my chest and snuggles under my chin — pawing my nose if I fail to hug her with both arms and coo about how much I love her.

You know, just the normal human/pet interaction. Nothing out of the ordinary. I mean seriously, what did you expect? She had a blog when she was two months old. Where, exactly, did you see things going from there? People who’ve been around us know we have a very special relationship.

But I digress…

I need a real bitch — the sooner, the better. I can’t wait until I’m rich. I need a personal assistant now, to do all the crap I don’t want to do. That’s the job description — everything I hate doing. I’m not an equal opportunity employer, either. Given the nature of certain duties, females need not apply. Sue me.

Until I do get rich, I’m willing to offer the right person an unpaid internship.  That’s right, guys.  This is your opportunity to get in on the ground floor. The ideal candidate should be able to earn some extra cash posing for cover photos for male-male romance novels, and be ready to serve as a “test kitchen” for scenes I might be cooking up for my next novel.

Do a good job, and I’ll put you in the acknowledgements of my next novel. Do a great job, and you might turn up somewhere in the middle. Yeah. This is that kind of opportunity. Once in a lifetime.

Girls, please share this want ad with any qualified candidates you might know or wish you knew. Guys, don’t delay! Send a letter of interest and three recent photographs to

I’ll be watching for your message…

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