When I was in school, doing a certain number of hours of community service was a requirement. One volunteer job, I handed out Popsicles to people doing a YMCA marathon. Another job, a nail went through my foot while I was shoveling pieces of wood into the back of a pickup. Yet another job, I was a timer at swim trials where a bunch of chicks changed in and out of their swimsuits underneath a towel right in front of me. My point is, that last one is probably the closest I’ll ever come to having a job like that girl adjusting Marisa Miller’s bikini has. Aww, crap. Now I’m depressed.
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