Ladies, gentlemen, fellow bloggers, beer drinkers and hell-raisers, my name is Pearl, today is Friday, and I’ll be your somewhat freaked-out guide.
Remember me telling you that I’m not superstitious? I wish I’d never said that, because in the spirit of divining the future from my iPod (whilst on shuffle), the following has come up:
Everybody Ona Move by Michael Franti & Spearhead
The Impression That I Get by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
Rich Kid Blues by The Raconteurs
Hey Eugene by Pink Martini
Nugget by Cake
Put It Behind You by Keane
Sunday Papers by Joe Jackson
Scratch by Morphine
On Monday, the corporation where I’ve been working for over five years will be laying off what appears to be a significant number of people. I have no idea if I am "safe" or not.
Why are all those songs (in a row, mind you) about hard luck, loss, and moving on?
I am not superstitious. I am not superstitious. The songs mean nothing. I am a valuable employee. I am good at what I do. I am well-liked and join committees. (And while we’re at it, I make a mean taco dip, know a guy who has a cousin touring with the Grateful Dead, and can also roll my “r”s. Take THAT, frightening economy!!)
You got time for a short story? Just a little one.
I went to a party a number of years ago and was approached by a man heavily clad in biker gear. Harley Davidson this and Harley Davidson that.
Very exciting, no?
I was asked a question there that haunts me to this day. He came up to me…
“Can I ask you a question?”
Me? Hmmm. “Sure,” I said.
“Well, you know those three adhesive strips?” He was referring to a television advertisement for “feminine napkins” wherein they hailed the benefit of three adhesive strips as a fixative.
“Well can I ask you a personal question about it?”
“Don’t those things hurt?”
Like I said: it haunts me.
Terms of Endearment
33 minutes ago