Helen Helperton
Last night my long-term houseguest/short-term roommate, Nick, came home with new pants he'd purchased for an upcoming job interview. Gracious hostess that I am, I was more than happy to assist him with the necessary hemming.
"Packing tape works way better than Scotch tape," I said from the deep Helen-shaped bed divot where I lay in my dollar store sweat pants, cable remote in hand. "There's some in that drawer right there." I even pointed at the drawer. I like to give.
Clearly I am sharing this information in hopes that it will find its way to Martha Stewart, who will then pursue me tirelessly until I accept a six-figure consultatory position with her organization.
As for Nick...that job is as good as his. They're gonna take one look at those pants and make him an offer. I just know it.
"Packing tape works way better than Scotch tape," I said from the deep Helen-shaped bed divot where I lay in my dollar store sweat pants, cable remote in hand. "There's some in that drawer right there." I even pointed at the drawer. I like to give.
Clearly I am sharing this information in hopes that it will find its way to Martha Stewart, who will then pursue me tirelessly until I accept a six-figure consultatory position with her organization.
As for Nick...that job is as good as his. They're gonna take one look at those pants and make him an offer. I just know it.
posted by Helen the Felon at 1:40 PM
7 Comments:
Sewing tape is a godsend as well.
Oh please...as if such a thing even exists. What are you, from the future or something? Psssh. Get back in your flying car and go home, smarty boy! The job at Martha Stewart is mine! ALL MINE!
I have a pair thats getting a little tight around the inseam....can you come help?
You found pants for a $1?
Packing tape, $1 sweats, Fuck Martha! Baby they need to give you a show of your own, and all the big bucks as well as the slavies to do all the heavy lifting and serve you cocktails.
Well, the offer may involve him never wearing those pants again, but an offer is an offer.
i have stapled a hem or two in my day. actually, i'm quite a seamstress. it's one of those old school skills we were taught as bitty children in that fine lutheran home. i keep it a secret (shhhhhhh!) for the most part because once folks find out i can sew, they appear with armsful of garments needing this and that. fuck 'em, i say. we needlewomen are a dying breed and i shant help any other twat who never bothered to learn the needle arts. out with the tape, the stapler, or just roll them up at the waist. there now.
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