What once ensured that I sat at a table next to the teacher is now posted, Monday through Friday.
I've contributed to perhaps the best humor compilation I've ever read. Available now on Amazon!
My second chapbook, "The Second Book of Pearl: The Cats" is now available as either a paper chapbook or as a downloadable item. See below for the Pay Pal link or click on its cover just to the right of the newest blog post to download to your Kindle, iPad, or Nook. Just $3.99 for inspired tales of gin, gambling addiction and inter-feline betrayal.
My first chapbook, I Was Raised to be A Lert is in its third printing and is available both via the PayPal link below and on smashwords! Order one? Download one? It's all for you, baby!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
They Won’t Die Unless You Remove The Heads
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 80% worker’s Friday, AKA “Thursday”. I'm Pearl, and I’ll be your host for this ridiculous little foray into silliness. Upon completion, you will be free to return to paying attention whilst attending meetings, keeping a reasonable tone of voice while running after children, or working on your handstand.
It does, after all, take all kinds.
It being the end of my work week, we have yet another sorry display regarding seeking meaning where there is none.
I present to you another round of “What’s The iPod Say About My Weekend?”
Unfortunately, I tend to interpret these things the same way over and over: Have a margarita/beer, sleep in, and for cryin’ out loud do something about your kitchen floor, would ya?
Anyone else read that differently?
A quick thought, and I’ll be on my way.
Minneapolis is the world headquarters of Target Corporation, the fifth largest chain of retail stores in the U.S.; and every now and then, much like the swallows returning to Capistrano or the cloud of aromatic smoke that follows a Gov’t Mule tour, their employees, the red-shirted, khaki-pantsed Target minions, descend upon downtown Minneapolis.
It never fails to send a chill down my spine.
It’s an eerie feeling, when you pass, on the sidewalk, 30, 40 people dressed in the same color scheme. Because while the styles of the shirts, the styles of the pants are all different, the shade of the red and the khaki are all the same.
In my mind, they sometimes lurch forward, developing shambling gaits and vacant stares. A bebop trumpet wails in the background. I am suddenly surrounded by moaning retail employees who reach for my purse.
“Would you like to save 15% on today’s purchases by opening a charge account with us?”
I run into the street, the back of one hand pressed to my forehead, the other extended in front of me in a “no! no!” display, my terrified eyes scanning the crowd for a policeman.
Strangely, the streets are now empty.
“Would you like to save 15% on today’s purchases…?”
“Have a good day!”
“Would you like to open a charge account with us?”
“Have a good day!”
I fall to the ground for reasons that are unclear and am engulfed by bright-eyed drones.