Cocksucking Doesn’t Belong on a Resume
If I wrote a guide to life, it would like this:
Dick Masteron’s Guide to Life
1. Shut up.
2. Get the job done.
In the end, that’s why women are such failures. Step 1, shutting up, is an impossible hurdle for their overloaded female brains. Even if their grey matter wasn’t water-logged with puppies and posting cute actors on their fucking MySpace page, women still couldn’t shut the fuck up. They have far too many stupid things to say and a limited amount of years in which to say them. Women could quit even their lamest of day jobs and take pep pills until the Apocalypse, but they still wouldn’t have enough time to empty their heads of every dumb fuck thought that congealed between their ears.
Too bad.
Just like how even you as a man can’t count to 47 trillion. Even if you count really fast. At least I don’t think you can. That’s why men invented calculators.
Step 2, getting the job done, is the greatest cosmic mystery in the female universe. Getting the job done requires a job, and getting a job requires making a fucking resume, which no woman in the world can do.
Men are better than women at making resumes. In this case, women are a No Show.
If women have to present themselves in a form that doesn’t involve either straps, no-straps, or a small amount of Scotch tape for purposes of false advertising, then they completely fuck it up. Men are like chameleons when it comes to presenting ourselves. You could take James Bond and drop him off on a farm in the middle of Iowa, and if you turned your back for even like a second, he would blend in like toothpaste in the holes on the walls of my first apartment. That’s called presentation skills.
Women can’t make resumes because resumes do not fit into the frail and vindictive monster that is the female ego. Why should a woman make a resume? Isn’t everything you need to know about hiring her written all over her soul or her empowerment or some shit?
No. It’s written elsewhere.
No woman ever made her own resume. I swear to God this is true. They’ve all had a man do it for them. Go find a woman and ask. I fucking guarantee that if you press hard enough (which you should always do with women), you will get the following answer.
Well my boyfriend/father made my first resume, but it was just my first!
Resumes aren’t fashion items or countries women celebrities steal babies from. They don’t change wildly from year to year. Resumes are like the list of imaginary grievances married women carry around in their heads at all times. They get made once very early on, and they stay that way for-fucking-ever. Sure they get added to every year:
1995 – Doesn’t like that I’ve blossomed into a full-figured woman.
1997 – Venerated the book I bought on psychic healing.
1997 – Made fun of me for not knowing what ‘venerated’ meant.
2002 – Didn’t pick up my hints about wanting a new car.
But the hard part is done. And the car is still at the lot because the bank didn’t pick up your hints about wanting a bunch of free fucking money for doing fuck all.
That’s why women can’t make resumes. No matter how good at bullshitting you are, you can’t phrase “got paid for doing fucking nothing” in a light that makes employers trip all over themselves with stock options.
Hey here’s a thought. Maybe there’s a gender pay gap because every woman in the world’s resume looks like this:
Her Name
Seeking: A job.
Objective: Get a job.
Skills: Can’t make a simple fucking resume.
I can hear the gap growing like cracks in the mantle crust. I would say that’s the stupidest resume I’ve ever seen, but as soon as I wrote it, I realized women could fuck it up even worse. Like with glitter stickers or by printing it on hearts stationary or some shit.
