YO-HO-HO, A PIRATE’S LIFE FOR ME!

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

Having recently rejoined the world of full-time employment after what I like to call an “involuntary extended hiatus,” I’ve decided that “work” is a four-letter word – and not just literally. According to Roget’s Thesaurus, work also is known as drudgery, grind, slave, strain, struggle, and other words meaning “no fun.” If it was fun, it’d be called “playtime.”

I have two college degrees, a decent résumé, and many scintillating, star-studded stories, some of them unprintable even in the tawdriest of tabloids. But thanks to our limping economy, I was out of work for about the time it takes to have a baby – or three babies, if your surname’s Jolie or Pitt. It took 37 nail-biting weeks of scanning job ads till my eyes were swirling sockets of pain to find employment that didn’t require swallowing evidence if apprehended or uttering, “Please pull around to the second window.”

As I went on interview after interview, family and friends advised me, “Just be yourself.” If that’s all it takes, why am I not getting paid to sit around in my jammies, watching “Law & Order” marathons and mainlining pure, uncut caffeine?

My sabbatical afforded time for deep introspection that led to a powerful revelation: I don’t want a job, I just want paychecks. Or more specifically, doubloons and pieces of eight. That’s right, dear readers … I want to be a pirate. So maybe this epiphany came during a “Pirates of the Caribbean” marathon and maybe I was under the influence of couple or 12 cans of Mountain Dew, but it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.

Besides, I’m stuck with this parrot I bought on a whim, so I have no choice but to buckle my swash and hit the high seas, looting and pillaging in the tradition of my forebears – among them, Errol Flynn’s Capt. Blood; Robert Newton’s Long John Silver; Capt. Hook (in both animated and Dustin Hoffman form); and of course, Johnny Depp’s rogue with a heart of tarnished gold, Jack Sparrow.

Sure, there are drawbacks to being a pirate – scurvy has sent many a marauder to Davy Jones’ Locker (that’s “six feet under” to ye landlubbers) and they have hideously bad teeth, but that just proves they don’t worry about whether their employer offers dental coverage. Health, hygiene and halitosis issues aside, I can think of several arguments in favor of being a pirate:

* All-expenses paid traveling.

* Wenches galore!

* The loot? Tax-free.

* No shoes, no shirt, no problem!

* Keith Richards as Jack Sparrow’s dad proves pirates can outlive pretty much anything.

* You can say things that sound dirty but really aren’t, e.g., poop deck, booty and “Hoist the Jolly Roger!”

* Yo-ho-ho, many bottles of rum!

* Pirates are a happy bunch, always singing and dancing with perfect choreography. Don’t believe me? Rent “The Pirates of Penzance.”

Last but not least, when someone asks, “Where’s your buccaneers?” it’s fun to reply, “Arrrgh, matey, they’re under me buckin’ hat!”