on my resume: teen model

dear marc,

kohl’s-brand clothes never looked so GOOD.


on my resume: t-shirt designer

dear marc,

i was rifling through my notebook that i carry EVERYWHERE to write down ideas/make lists of things i’m supposed to do when i’m not so drunk, when i stumbled upon a page that had “SHIRTS” written at the top, and bunch of random words scribbled below it. at first i was all, “what the fuck are these from?” and THEN i was totally like, “OMG I SHOULD DESIGN SHIRTS FOR MARC.” wouldn’t that be great? a typical day would be like this:

MARC: matt, i need see your designs for those MbMJ shirts THAT I ASKED YOU FOR TWO DAYS AGO.

MATT: the ones you’re going to sell and give the profits to a charity or whatever?


MATT: well, here’s what i have so far…it’s super sketchy and whatever but…

MATT: what do you think?

MARC: i think your ability to offend all walks of life is uncanny.  and i think you should leave.

on my resume: tweeter

dear marc,

wouldn’t it be great if you hired me to tweet about things?  i mean, i’m clearly super experienced:

look!  it only took me two posts to get the hang of it.

you could give me some grand title, like “head of twat development” or “executive vice president in charge of short, neurotic sentences.”  i think it could totally work, and would go something like this:

MARC:  matt, i’m going to need less boob-tweeting and more fall line-tweeting.

MATT: sorry, mr. jacobs.


MATT: sorry.

MARC: and would it kill you to wear a tie?  this is a place of business.

match made in heaven? PROBABLY. think about it.