One of the only books I made it around to reading over break was P.G. Wodehouse’s collection of Jeeves stories, Life with Jeeves.
And I’ve decided. I need me one. A Jeeves.
He could wake me up in the morning to tea and scones, or with one of his miraculous eye-openers after a long night cutting it up at the club. He could tell me my jeans don’t look cute with that top, and if I ignore his advice, donate the top to charity (but of course I’d have to forgive him because he helped me escape the wrath of a jilted lover), and wee, life with Jeeves is the good life!
Sigh.
Instead, I guess I’ll be washing my own car tomorrow (still has cat litter in it from taking F&E up to Redding, CLASSY!). And no one will save me from having to watch all the bachelors of the 2L class make googly eyes at the It Girl who sits in front of me in CrimPro. And probably lunch tomorrow will be Cheez-Its instead of steak au poivre.
Sigh.
You know you want a Jeeves, too.
Who would your Jeeves be? A pool boy — Raoul or Jean-Luc, perhaps? A personal assistant — Barbie? Gary? Sandra? A life coach — Phil or Deepak, anyone? Or, if you are soooo LA, perhaps a “satisfaction consultant.” That’s a new one I just heard about — to me, it sounds like a hooker, but whatevs! Not a judger!
So who is your Jeeves?
Sunday Undies 
January 11, 2006 at 7:28 am
I have always thought the concept of having a Jeeves would be fabulous. Someone to take care of all the tasks I dislike — cleaning the litterbox, doing the laundry, detailing the car. Someone to take care of the things I am too tired to do — preparing a fabulous meal when I have had an extra long day or to run a nice bubblebath for me. Oh, and perhaps Jeeves could assist in getting rid of the wrong guys who approach one in bars and clubs.
This person could not be called Jeeves though. Jeeves for me will now always be my friend’s dog, a wonderful retriever, who died last summer.
And “satisfaction consultant” just sounds naughty.
January 11, 2006 at 8:26 am
school hasn’t started for me yet, which is why i’m still knitting!
the jeeves books are my ALL TIME FAVORITE, laugh out loud funny favorite books. totally want a jeeves. is there a jeeves store in LA?
January 11, 2006 at 9:25 am
I read Jeeves only because one of my exes liked them so much, so I had to see why he liked them. He would quote from Wodehouse extensively. God, I’m so glad we’re no longer dating.
Anyway, my Jeeves? My Jeeves would probably be a combination of a butler/cleaner (because hi, my apartment is currently a wreck)/hot pool boy. Because I’d want him to do it all – cook, clean – hrm, in essence, he sounds like a house husband. But there is nothing hotter than a guy in an apron (in a clean apartment). Especially if he’s cooking something yummy for you.
January 11, 2006 at 9:29 am
Oooo. Guy in apron. Finally an image to replace baseball buns in my mind. Thank you immensely, Gloria.
January 11, 2006 at 9:51 am
I would want my Jeeves to be a combination housecleaner and personal trainer, as those are the two areas in which I am hopelessly unmotivated.
January 11, 2006 at 10:17 am
Oooh, I want a Jeeves too! Mine would clean house, do laundry, perform ALL lawn/garden maintenance and run annoying chores. Hmm, maybe I need several Jeeves-types!
Nice idea, though. *sighing wistfully*
– Carolyn B.
January 11, 2006 at 10:12 pm
I wouldn’t mind a Jeeves at all. I haven’t heard of these books, but may have to add them to my “to read” list.
And, um, what is a “satisfaction consultant”? I have never heard of such a thing?
January 11, 2006 at 10:28 pm
“satisfaction consultant” simply must mean hooker. Priceless name either way.
I think I’d go with a personal assistant… not a barbie tho. Don’t like barbie-doll girls.. they just seem plastic.
Give me a girl next door with a little sex appeal and I’ll jump through hoops. I’d pick any girl with sex appeal over a barbie-doll anyday. (i’ve heard plastic chafes).
Couldn’t call her jeeves tho.. that would just be too weird. Especially if satisfaction consultancy is to take place!
January 12, 2006 at 6:17 pm
I have always believed that I should have a lackey. But my lackey should also have a lackey. And my lackey’s lackey should have a lackey. The chain continues to the point where there’s just a trained monkey with a very confused expression.