Life is full of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Anyone who has ever attempted to pull an all-nighter for a project due the next day, parallel park on Marshall Street or convince the bouncer at Chuck’s Cafe that the baseball card you gave him at the door was your legal ID — and that, yes, you did hit 24 home runs for the Phillies in 2004 — knows exactly what I’m talking about.

Last night I, too, was faced with a task that pushed the outer limits of my willpower to a place I usually dare not venture unprepared: the other side of my living room sofa. My two roommates and I were discussing our plans for 4/20 while watching a Planet Earth marathon when they suddenly left me alone with the television. However, as the program shifted to commercials, I found myself staring straight at a remote control that was several feet out of arm’s reach.

Desperate, I turned my Nike shoelaces into a makeshift lasso, which I cast from my ridiculously comfortable couch nest. Sadly, though, my rope wasn’t long enough to reel in the remote, my cellphone or the Sweet Spicy Chili Doritos and ranch dressing dip perched next to it.

So with no roommates, no means of communication, no sustenance and an insufficient shoelace retrieval apparatus, I could only come to one conclusion: I need a personal assistant.

This job is not for the faint of heart. In addition to phenomenal retrieval abilities, all applicants must have strong personal skills, experience in the profession and the ability to dead-lift a keg from my bathroom floor. Theymust be fluent in English, proficient in Spanish and willing to curse at strangers in Mandarin.

Computer skills are key. All applicants need to be familiar with Photoshop, InDesign and that weird Swedish website where you can download ‘South Park’ episodes and soft-core porn. You must also be able to type at least 80 words per second for when I dictate my personal memoirs.

Physically, I need someone who is taller than 6-foot-4 or shorter than 4-foot-8. If you can’t fit inside my oversized suitcase, you damn well better be able to carry it around for me.

I also demand that my assistant be educated, preferably with a law degree with a specialization in criminal defense, but I’ll settle for a GED. Finally, all applicants must be at least a brown belt in Jujitsu. I haven’t been attacked by campus ninjas before, but that makes me more suspicious, not less.

If selected, you will face a number of wide-ranging and difficult tasks. In the classroom, you will take notes from my professors and wake me up when I am called on to participate. In my apartment, you’ll be in charge of cooking, cleaning, laundry and telling my roommates their bedtime stories when I’m not available to tuck them in myself.

Communication will be a large part of your job. You’ll manage my Twitter, Facebook, Myspace and email accounts, answer my cellphone whenever my mom calls, and serenade the various objects of my affection with love songs outside their bedroom windows until they call the cops.

This job may sound demanding, but I promise its rewards will be worth far more than the $3 semiweekly stipend you’ll receive for your services. Starting your career with me will lead you on a path toward personal success and professional prosperity.

Or prison. Same difference.

Danny Fersh is a junior broadcast journalism major. His column appears every Wednesday. To apply to be Danny’s personal assistant, leave a cover letter, resume, writing sample, urine sample and $20 at the Thornden Park amphitheater tomorrow night. Or reach him via email at dafersh@syr.edu and follow him on Twitter @fersh_prince.