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Joke from Luke McKay

May 26, 2011

i’m a bikini inspector. It’s not a joke, I inspect bikinis. It’s my job. You know, I see a lot of guys on the beach wearin’ “Bikini Inspector” t-shirts. But they’re not real bikini inspectors, they just wish they were, for some weird reason. I don’t know why anyone would pretend to be a bikini inspector. It’s a menial job. You gotta take a bus there every day. There’s an hour right there. You work in a dank factory, you gotta inspect four or five thousand units, your eyes start to go buggy and squinty. Shift work too, ya know? And for that you make, well, let’s just say the amount of money I make is my own business. Although I do make somewhere around $8.67 an hour. Bikini inspector.


The only job worse than that is the job I had in Collingwood, Ontario. Workin’ in the woods. I was on the beaver patrol. Rotten job, mud in your boots, trapsin’ through the underbrush lookin’ for beaver dams that are cloggin’ up the irrigation system. One beaver even bit my thumb. But it’s all part for the course on the beaver patrol. You know, I’d go out after work, beaver bites all over my thumbs, go to a bar for a quick drink, and I’d see guys there wearin’ t-shirts that said my job on them. But not like other rotten jobs, like “Fry cook” or “Night security guard at an out of the way mall.” So, I’d be sittin’ there, tryin’ to find pride in my work, wearin’ my beaver patrol t-shirt, and the women stare at ya. Well, I’m sorry ma’am, if I’m not a doctor,but thems the breaks. One woman even bit my thumb.

But I’m gettin’ out of here. Tryin’ to get on as a “Muff Diver.” Read it on a t-shirt. I don’t know what it is, but, that job can’t be much worse than what I’m doin’ now, eh? Eh? Yeah….

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