Whoa Anna … looks like someone has their crabby pants on. Let’s just step back, take a deep breath and try to put on a happy face. Look, I’m not sure if you’re just not pleased with your chosen profession or the market is starting to feel like a little over-weight pool boy pulling your fingernails out with a dull needle-noose pliers, one at a time? Either way, it appears that career change may be in order.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to tell you what to do. I mean, you look like you could hold me down by the neck with a triple-leg lock tummy fold followed by a ten minute session of noogies, only stopping when the crown of my head is as red as a monkeys butt. No thank you.
Now, here’s another theory: you’re just a sweetheart, convinced by some over-worked, over-paid, under-skilled ad exec to play the role of real estate bitch. And, if that’s the case … well, it’s genius. Got me. I actually thought that you wanted to kick my … but you … then I … HA. You’re good Anna, real good. The heavenly gates of gold nominations have just opened up and guess what? There you are. MAUH! MAUH!
Just in case my theory isn’t 100% correct, let me just say that the black one piece jumpsuit looks lovely and … I bruise easy.
Wanted: Lunatic stark raving mad fans that are willing to run naked in public forums, paint their faces with Real”ad”tor pride, scream puns at the top of their lungs and beat the crap out of the arch rival fans. If this sounds like you, click here.
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