Red-Haired American Cougar Seeks British, French Or Scandinavian National For Matrimony And Medicine. Please Don’t Tell My Boyfriend
This post’s headline, naturally, refers to the personal ad I plan to take out if I ever become too sick to afford my medical bills, which shouldn’t cost more than a few Euros and pounds and I frankly don’t understand my idea hasn’t caught on with American women and British men already. It would be like Russian brides only better, because we sort of know how to speak proper English.
Of course, I wouldn’t have to resort to such drastic measures as complaining in the British papers if I’d made better choices with my life, such as “Don’t start your newspaper career at the exact moment the Internet killed the industry.” My career highlights thus far include working on a phone sex line, infiltrating a Furries convention, and realising only too late in life that acting in Japanese tentacle porn might have been a better career decision than copy editing novels for a vanity publisher.
Sometimes people online mistake me for a certain talented high school athlete from Quebec who went to Beijing last summer as part of the Canadian Olympic diving team. This makes me feel sorry for my Quebecoise namesake, who doesn’t deserve to have her name linked with a disreputable person like me.