I am not the kind of girl who would be at a blog like this at this time of the morning, and in fact I am not, being safely tucked up in bed till the bell rings for lunch, as all good bloggers should be. The Autopost button is my friend.
I’m raincoaster, and it seems the best way for me to introduce myself to you is the same way I introduced myself to the Manolo: with attitude. This is the email that got me this cushy gig in burgeoning Manolopolis.
Greetings to the illustrious Manolo, whose growing empire rivals those of the Ottomans and Romanovs, except better-dressed and without the bloody revolution part.
To say that I was excited by the blog job opening at Teeny Manolo would be to understate the case to a near-criminal degree. I am a longtime acolyte of the Manolo (and grateful recipient of the Manolo’s linkie luv) as well as a highly experienced blogger, blogging instructor and consultant, and former nanny and retailer of clothes for teenies. During my time in the totwear trade, I was sometimes delighted by clever, practical, and attractive clothes, but more often (it must be confessed) I was appalled and shocked into bitter sarcasm by the vast tide of bogswill being passed off as proper clothing for youngsters, boys in particular.
What did little boys ever do to get stuck with SAILOR SUITS for Tinky Winky’s sake? And cheap, shiny nylon sailor suits with scratchy seams that make the baby Jesus cry, or would, if he had to wear those instead of the lovely robes that Mary picked out for him on that trip to Jerusalem.
Please accept this application for the position of Teeny Manolo Blogger. Currently I have three active blogs: raincoaster, for my bitter ravings; running through rain for students of my courses on blogging for personal growth; and the Shebeen Club, for my literary group (who would love to host the Manolo for an evening, should he pass through Vancouver). I average between four and twelve posts a day, and yes, I can modulate the snark at will.
I hope to hear from you soon: if you need an old-skool resume, just let me know. You can also check out my profile on LinkedIn.
Actually, you cannot, because I’m really terribly, terribly shy. With the encouragement of my readers and the support of my magically self-replenishing mug of Sumatra Full City Roast, I’m slowly coming out of my shell. Alas, those who get a look at me in broad daylight not infrequently request that I return to it, but that is neither here nor there.
Being hired by the Manolo is a thrilling time in any young blogger’s life. The limos, the clubs, the private planes to Paris! As newly-minted secret agents reporting to M, it’s hard to decide if Glinda and I are the James Blondes of the Teeny world, the Charlie’s Angels (I get to be Kate Jackson, okay?) or the twin Laura Holts of Remington Steele Investigations.
Rest assured that with us on the case, your Teenys are in good hands. Indeed, like another great detective force, we always get our Manolos.
(ok, not really)