Told you, babydolls. Broke-Ass promised to return forthwith and–oh, look at the time! It’s forthwith. Back to Broke-Ass and her reentry to Philly.
So, on a drizzly, fuscous morning in late February, the morning after she had first opened the gates to La Petite Maison, Broke-Ass was acquainting herself with the area by dragging her sad, rheumy joints up Germantown Avenue, when she glimpsed a sign in a building’s window reading, “MuseHouse: A Center for the Literary Arts.” Fantastic, thought Broke-Ass. Somewhere I can work. To be clear, her thought was that this was a spot where she could rent a desk and some peace and quiet so that she could get some work done, as she had for years at the Brooklyn Writers’ Space, chunking out two books, TV pilots, and other sundry high-status, low-paying projects.
Turned out, MuseHouse is a salon for readings and workshops, and the director asked Broke-Ass to teach a course on the spot. Wow, sure! So, that’s how Broke-Ass landed her first small, part-time job in Philly.
Thusly encouraged, Broke-Ass then shoveled Two Lumps of Sugar into the stroller and headed further up the avenue to the Little Treehouse Cafe, a dream Waldorf-inspired playspace for lumpkins and a genuinely pleasant spot for parents to hang out. And very, almost strangely, reasonably priced, making it an instant Broke-Ass favorite. She struck up a conversation with the lovely owner, and was shortly thereafter hired to write a blog, Tired But Happy Mom, as a way for the business to reach those of us fitting that description. And that’s how Broke-Ass got her second small, part-time gig in Philly.
Later that week, Broke-Ass decided to send notes to heads of journalism and writing departments of the area’s esteemed colleges and universities to see if she might be of some service as an adjunct professor of some stripe. And what do you think? Everyone responded. Lord willing, this may be the way Broke-Ass gets her third small, part-time gig in Philly.
Come on. Have you ever heard of anything more awesome? Forget it, don’t tell her. Just let her be happy for for the time being. Broke-Ass is well aware that none of the above will make her super rich. What will make her super rich is marrying Mark Zuckerberg. Which is Broke-Ass’s plan to land her fourth gig in Philly. In the meantime, it’s sure as hell nice to be wanted, a sense she has only via love of the schmushkies and contact with you, babydolls.
Next time: a modest proposal, Mark Zuckerberg. Eyes on you.