The object of my affection.

All of the comments about dream jobs made me laugh and laugh. Folks, if you need a fact checker? Rainbow Motel is your gal. Looking for spot-on ear piercing? Kelley will hook you up. Gift wrapping? Dorrie. Fair barker? Oh, Jessie. Oh, yes. Spanish-language annnnnnnnnnnnnnouncer? Ilyannaaaaaaaah! And friendly critiques about beachwear? Little Miss Sunshine State. Yes.

These dreams of ideal jobs got me to thinking.

First of all ... when I was young and adorable? I told my dad I wanted to drive a street sweeper. Being the supportive pop he is, my sweet daddy said, "Well, whatever you want to do, we'll go along with it."

Except that I was a 3-year-old firecracker. "No, dad," I said. "You can't. It only has 1 seat."

Bwah ha ha. But as an adult, this makes perfect sense to me. I love interesting tools and appliances, and I adore tangible, immediate results.

This is why I love power washers.

Seriously.

Need your deck powerwashed? Call me! Tough mildew on brick? Got it.

So, this affinity leads me to be insanely jealous of guys who work for GumBusters. They use special power washers to blast dried gum off of sidewalks. I saw it on Dirty Jobs, and I actually saw it in action in New York City. Uh-mazing.

Look at this thing. How kick-ass is it?

Some folks dream of ruling the streets with a souped-up ride, or watching the game on a ginormous, fancy-pants teevee. I fantasize about randomly busting gum off the sidewalk with this bit o' awesomeness.

Yes, I need to get out more. No, I have not transferred this desire to clean sidewalks to cleaning my own house. Don't judge me.

Image courtesy of bostongumbusters.com.