I decided to blow off the Amazon after just a few days. It was OK, I guess. I met some monkeys, and I learned how to dye fabric with bugs. I made a caftan. It makes me feel like lounging on the lanai with Dorothy and Rose.
But now that I’m back, I feel a little discontent. I decided it would be in my best interest to have one reasonably lucrative job instead of my usual million jobs with erratic pay schedules. So I set to lookin’, and so far I found one that would like me to know that I would have “responcibilities” if I took it. Oh, don’t do me like that. If anyone is hiring, I am good at being nosy and bossy. I know my way around a spreadsheet. I will fix your dumb idea and make it look like you are the genius in charge of geniusing.
Speaking of dumb ideas, I’m going to have to fire my therapist. I was complaining about a chronic pain condition I have, and he busted out a book called “How to Heal Your Life” or something like that. The cover was a whole mess of watercolor hearts. And I sat there thinking “Oh no you di’n’t,” and he turned to the entry for my particular condition and said “ah-ha: internalizes stress, chooses sugar over real love. something something pain all your fault. Your affirmation should be ‘I am a woman, and I love my womanly body.'” And I said “You are so, so, so, so fired.” I don’t think he believed me. So I should order a singing telegram. Oh Tom Cruise, you dumb cracker, where are you with your vitamins when I need you?
This is just to say…I would like to be done coughing, I would like it if my clothes were not housed in trash bags on the floor, and I am a big fan of the serial comma. David rightly spits upon the AP.
Pop Culture round up: certain readers found The Story of Nicholas inappropriate fodder for MLK day. No offense was intended to Dr. King’s legacy, and I thought the story spoke for itself. I guess just wait until February; we’ll surely have a treatise on how all Black people look alike for Black History Month.
John Kerry, huh. I love it when the media gets things all wrong.
American Idol is starting again. Paula Abdul’s eyes seem to be migrating to opposite sides of her face. The effect made me yell out “Oh my God, she’s wearing a Halle Berry mask!”
The Apprentice is a good show if you’ve ever worked with marketing goons who are into “teambuilding.” I believe it is on Wednesday nights. I totally fire people the same way as Donald Trump. “This has been a really hard decision…no it hasn’t, you’re fired!”
…of the totally hypothetical layoff package!
From here on out, I recommend that larger layoffs be conducted like American Idol auditions. (Because waiting around all afternoon is the pits. I mean what if I had a dentist appointment?)
“Group two, please step forward.”
“Group one, you’re going to L.A.!!!!!”
And then group two would get cut on by people with British accents. Although that’s darn near what happened to me. But if I say another word, I might potentially jeopardize my theoretical agreement. Oh wait, just saying this much is bad enough. Maybe I’m making this all up. You just don’t know, do you, gentle reader?
In any case, I am unreasonably pleased.
p.s.: Lambchop, I have it on good authority that there is a magic bus that goes down Brighton Ave all the way downtown, thus avoiding the indignities of the train. Or is that just for poor people, whose ranks I may or may not be joining?