Should a reincarnated Marilyn Monroe ever need help squeezing into her dress (not unlike putting toothpaste back into a tube, I shouldn't wonder), consider my services wholeheartedly volunteered. And since I'd be the one who got her into it, it only makes sense that I should be the one to get her back out at the end of the day. Ahh, now there would be a job with some serious perks! (Snicker.)
'Course, with my luck, I'm more likely to get requests for help covering up a crowd of Marilyn Manson clones, but so long as I get to cover 'em in a hail of buckshot and bullets, who am I to complain? |