This Gun's For Hire

In my business, we call this "consulting," but here's what it all boils down to: I need money, and you need shit done. Here's some shit I can do for you:

• Getting hospital drunk and heckling your ex-boyfriend's band, making the lead singer cry, etc.
• Coming up with thesis titles that both amaze and confuse. To wit: "From Boot-Hat to Bindle and Back Again: A Semiotic Analysis of the Plains State Hobo," and "BARRACUDA! Or is it? Animism and Gender Identity in Heart's Early Years."
• Crafting you the kind of Personal Budget that will always leave room for a pack of Pall Malls and some buffalo jerky, but neither pants nor cable.
• Telling pointless stories at your awkward party to keep the conversation flowing. These usually start with something innocuous enough, like "I was standing in the checkout line today…" but will inevitably turn into barelling steam engines of poor elocution and offense, ending somewhere in the region of: "…and that's how I paid for my English degree with Nazi gold."
• Rating your record collection from the perspective of a whiskey-guzzling burnout living in Puyallup in 1976.

Money orders, cashier's checks, and the afore-mentioned Pall Malls accepted.