This blog is not for the light-hearted or easily offended. If either one of those descriptions applies to you, i would suggest you start drinking before you read this blog. A sense of humor is suggested. If you don't have one that sucks for you … find one and get a life!

In which i discuss fleeting careers

I had rotator cuff surgery on my right shoulder about 9 years ago. I don’t know if it was all the years of competitive swimming or just the fact that we had moved and I had been packing and lifting heavy boxes, but for whatever reason, my shoulder was a mess. It had gotten so bad that I couldn’t lift my arm up to change the radio station in my car. That was a huge problem. My radio was already tuned to crap since Keely was in her “girl band” era and Britney and Christina were all the rage. At any rate, I had the surgery and once it was fixed, I had the most awesome scar on my right shoulder. I used to have the best conversations about it.

Random kid up at school:      “Mrs. MacDonald, what’s that scar?”

Me:                                       “It’s a bullet wound”

Random kid up at school:       “What?”

Me:                                       “A bullet wound”

Random kid up at school:       “How did you get that?”

Me:                                       “I was down in the hood working on my career as a rapper”

Random kid up at school:       “MOM!!!!”

Hahaha. Nothing better than fucking with little kids’ heads. But I wasn’t completely kidding. About that time, I had decided to become a professional rapper which is just one in a long line of “fleeting careers” for Lynn MacDonald.

What’s a fleeting career you might ask? Well, once upon a time I DID have a REAL job. First I worked at International Paper Company, then Paine Webber (I quit after 6 weeks), then J.M. Huber (fired after 12 days) and eventually I worked for myself (tried to quit, didn’t work. Couldn’t figure out how to get fired but I’m still working on it). After we moved down here I decided that I was over working for other people and I’d just raise these little people who kept popping out at random intervals (the hospital didn’t give me a choice and said I had to take them with me when I left).

So I just took care of the kids when I occasionally came out of my self-induced narcissistic haze. The first random career I was going to have was as a sculptor. If you recall, I was offered a LARGE sum of money for my first sculpture and I figured that I could just sculpt while raising the kids. But alas, it was more time consuming than I had time for since the kid’s naps didn’t last as long as I would have liked. So for the time being sculpting was out.

Then I discovered painting. That was more like it! I taught myself how to paint, first with acrylics and then with oils, by trying to copy other styles that I liked. I really enjoyed it and it turns out, for such an untrained person, I was pretty good at it. People really liked what I was painting and kept telling me I should do it more. Well, I hate when people expect something out of me so between all that pressure and the fact that my parents kept inconveniently perishing, I stopped painting.

Next, we saw the movie Blue Crush. It’s about surfing. This was it! I was going to become a professional surfer when I grew up! My kids were shaking their heads and telling me, “no mom. You couldn’t possibly become a professional surfer.” “Sure I can,” I replied. “I was a swimmer. What’s the big deal? And look how pretty it is out there!” They looked at me sadly and went on with their normal “lets ignore mom now” attitude not to mention that they’re always telling me that “I’m already supposed to be grown up”.

That brings me up to the rap stuff.

I love a good beat. Seriously, I’m all about the bass. I wasn’t a huge fan of some of the Old School Rap because of the lyrics but all the new Hip Hop stuff was right up my alley so, of course, I decided to become a rapper. My kids told me I was terrible and basically ignored me because, of course, every few months I tell them what I’m going to be when “I grow up.” So, I started working on my moves. I was terrible. Since I have no short-term memory, trying to remember the lyrics was a problem. I was definitely having issues achieving my goal but still, I thought I was pretty good. My kids didn’t agree. That’s right about the time when I had to have rotator cuff surgery. I thought the scar gave me some street cred. At any rate, the rapping thing didn’t pan out for some reason.

The next fleeting career I came up with was “Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader.” Now bear in mind here, I was already well into my 40’s. There was this show on TV called “Making the Squad: The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders.” I came across it one day and it was hilarious. I made the whole family watch it and it was like a boot camp for how to become a Dallas Cowboy’s cheerleader. I loved it! They were so, so serious! So I worked on my high kick, but my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PART was the SEXY WALK. That’s right folks. It’s actually called “THE SEXY WALK.” You can imagine that I jumped all over that shit. What is the sexy walk? It’s the way they walk out onto the field. Each person has their own style of walk and they had to do it in an audition. That was it! I could do that. So I did. I developed my own Sexy Walk and did it for my family who then practically pee’d themselves laughing because, let’s face it, I’m not that sexy. I still do the sexy walk. Occasionally somebody will ask for an encore and I’ll do it in public. Actually, at my brothers wedding this summer, after far too many drinks, I performed the sexy walk for the entire wedding reception. Yeah, I’m awesome like that!

Lately, I’ve decided to become a professional talk show guest which, if you’re following this blog, you’ve heard before. I don’t want to be a host. That seems like lots of work and work is something I try to avoid. Being the guest would be perfect. That’s what all this writing and blogging is all about. Or at least, that’s how it started. As it turns out, the more I say, the more I have to say. I knew I had a big mouth and was opinionated but I’ve actually surprised myself with how much there is to say!

So here we are. Fleeting career number one billion: professional talk show guest. What do you want to be when you grow up?

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  1. Sarah
    November 29, 2010

    That was a question I asked myself into my 40s and then I found a bloke who liked what I wrote and instructed me to write some more stuff so I did. And I fell into becoming a writer in my spare time.

    I had thought about becoming a profiler when I was 42 then realised just how long it would take to qualify with no one to support me except me and that sounded like way too much hassle.

    When I was in my 20s I thought I might become a shopping bag entrepreneur. I was making these waxed cotton shopping bags with Provencal prints for pocket money one summer, but found in France you can't just make pocket money you have to start a business with a capital of, at the time 50,000FF and pay 30,000FF social security within months. That kind of put me off as I just wanted a few extra FFs rattling around in my pocket. So I left them with a tourist shop in Aigues Mortes, she put them at the back of a dusty corner and didn't sell one. I got them all back at the end of the season.

    Obviously I wasn't cut out to be an entrepreneur in France.

  2. victoria
    November 29, 2010

    I see myself in this post. I can't wait to show it to my teenage sons so they'll know I'm not the only weird mom out there. My most recent incarnations have been: Jewelry Designer, Guru, Costumer, and Home Organizer. This last was particularly amusing to the family who watches me search for my glasses and keys on a daily basis. I did get a few jobs, though!

    Thanks for the yuks.

  3. NIC
    November 29, 2010

    Boy do I wish I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. Although I don't really wasn't to grow up. If I were brave like you It have more choices but I'm a chicken. Bock bock

  4. Ragemichelle
    November 29, 2010

    Gosh. I still don't know what I want to be. I'm a computer programmer and I am NOT crazy about it. But it pays the bills.

    I'm holding out for Princess. I'm not sure who I call for that job. OH..or movie star.

    Okay, I'm a middle aged, plain and kind of chubby girl. I'd be cheaper than all those big Hollywood stars.

    I have an impinged rotator cuff and it's really REALLY painful.

  5. Results Not Typical Girl
    November 30, 2010

    i was a clown for a day. no shit.

    now i work in an office and every month when my student loan payments gets sucked out of my account, i get .04% more bitter.

    especially when i'm refilling the fucking stapler. that's some harsh shit right there.

  6. Paul Kincannon
    January 24, 2011

    I attempted to publish a new comment earlier, however it has not shown up. Perhaps there is a problem with your spam filter?

    • Lynn
      January 24, 2011

      Perhaps…it does delete some stuff

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