I often make fun of my friend Jenipher's job. She works for the visitors bureau of that county in Illinois where those little girls were stabbed to death this week. In talking to Jenipher for all these years now, I've never been able to exactly determine what her job for the CVB entails. She says she works in "sales," but usually she's just making up fun party signs or hip, happening posters. One time, she arranged a party with a Barbie theme.
Several times I've called her, and, I swear, she's been doing some project with construction paper, popsicle sticks and glitter. One time I asked her if she used the left-handed scissors much for her biggest projects, like arranging gift baskets or tying decorative ribbons.
And Jenipher goes on vacation, like, once a month. She says they're business trips, but I don't think so.
For instance, she just called me a few minutes ago from her car on her way to a "business meeting" to ask me if I knew the full lyrics to Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl."
I asked her if the meetings usually ended with she and her other workers in a pillow fight or with them braiding each others' hair.
She said, "No, we end with manis and pedis."
Jenipher's probably lying about her job. She's probably just living as a housewife and running a Girl Scout troop.
I asked her why she went to college for that job since it sounds like, um, all she ever really needed to know she learned in Kindergarten.
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