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, January 28, 2010

I Think I Can Work This to My Advantage

There are a number of things that I’ve discovered I cannot do.

For instance, I cannot do percentages. Honestly, I think I was sick that day. If something is priced at 40% off retail, I am compelled to take 10% off the price four times. If it’s 45%, that’s four ten-percents and then half a ten percent…

This is the reason you often see me in stores sitting on the floor with my socks and shoes off, working out the end price of something.

I cannot listen to – or tell – the same story more than three times. I am terribly interested the first time, compassionate the second, polite the third, and looking for an exit on the fourth telling. This goes for Timmy Jr.’s first words, the time that guy followed you all the way to the parking lot, and that freaky dream from last week. I’ve only got so much time on the planet and then it’s The Great Hereafter – do we really have time for repetition?

And I cannot bake.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I can bake.

I just shouldn’t.

And when I say I shouldn’t, I’m not talking about what it does to my pants or the seam impressions it causes said pants to leave on my hips and thighs.

I’m talking about the burns. Because oven mitt or no oven mitt, I am going to burn some part of my hand (usually the left hand, on the top) at some point.

Each time, of course, I vow to be more careful; and each time, this careful-ness lasts the first ten minutes and then is relegated to the degree of attention I give the other things I have vowed to be more careful about, things like my savings account, getting birthday presents to people on time, staying on my side of the road whilst driving...

I am looking at my hands today, having made lasagna last night, and am contemplating what the carnie judging my age would tell me.

They look at your hands, you know, the carnies. The hands speak, as they say, giving away your age. And mine? Well, while my right hand remains a model of pink and slightly dimpled competence, my left hand speaks of the great pyramids, of the first domesticated dog.

I wasn't there for the building of the great pyramids, of course, but judging by my puckered yet blistered hand, I may have been invited to the grand opening.

I should totally go to the carnival today.

Alas, the carnies are all in Florida or some other southern state, plotting their penny-toss strategies and perfecting the casual leer.

And me? Oh, I’m sure I’ll have baked something again by the time the carnivals roll back into town.

And I’m gonna win me that giant stuffed poodle yet.

29 comments:

suzicate said...

They always piss me off being right all the time...I hate those kind of people. I used to hang around just hopin to watch them get it wrong, and I never got to witness it!

mapstew said...

I do that with percentages! :¬)

xxx

Douglas said...

Regardless of your math skills and baking talents, you have mastered (misstressed?) the art of the humorous segue.

The carnies are actually here in my little sinkhole of the state of Florida (named after someone's maid) where they come each year to take advantage of the northerners who flock here to fill our restaurants and highways. In Florida, the carnies guess your age by counting the wrinkles.

Kurt said...

Maybe the perfect thing to do is only toast things from now on. You can toast anything and it will be delicious. As long as by "anything" you mean "Pop-Tarts©".

Mandy's Kidding said...

I thought that's how everyone did percentages?

Totally acceptable.

I also still do my multiplication by 9s with my fingers.

Secretia said...

The people on my job tell the same stories every day, the same jokes too, it wears me out.

Secretia

CatLadyLarew said...

I do the same thing with the percentages. And I have some lovely scars from burning myself while cooking. Klutz!

Pat said...

Well, I think that's a fine way to figure out percentages. At least you can figure them out!

When I remember to wear oven MITTS is the only time I don't get burns.

The mad woman behind the blog said...

While I avoid trips to Florida at all costs, it would be worth it just to get some of the deep fried goodies only carnies can provide.
Hmmm, funnel cakes w/ powdered sugar. Yum.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

I'm with you, Pearl. I can't stand it when someone tells the same story over and over. You're a lot better than I, however, in that the fourth telling is your breaking point. Mine is the third.

I work with someone who, in order to maximize the amount of pity that she can sucker out of people, thus fulfilling her attention whoredom to the very brim, will tell a story to as few people at a time. And then she'll casually walk up to you when someone new is around and mention her story, so that, inevitably, they ask "What's that?"

And here we go again.

Lord A'mighty, I hate people who tell the same story over and over again.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

I'm with you, Pearl. I can't stand it when someone tells the same story over and over. You're a lot better than I, however, in that the fourth telling is your breaking point. Mine is the third.

I work with someone who, in order to maximize the amount of pity that she can sucker out of people, thus fulfilling her attention whoredom to the very brim, will tell a story to as few people at a time. And then she'll casually walk up to you when someone new is around and mention her story, so that, inevitably, they ask "What's that?"

And here we go again.

Lord A'mighty, I hate people who tell the same story over and over again.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

I'm with you, Pearl. I can't stand it when someone tells the same story over and over. You're a lot better than I, however, in that the fourth telling is your breaking point. Mine is the third.

I work with someone who, in order to maximize the amount of pity that she can sucker out of people, thus fulfilling her attention whoredom to the very brim, will tell a story to as few people at a time. And then she'll casually walk up to you when someone new is around and mention her story, so that, inevitably, they ask "What's that?"

And here we go again.

Lord A'mighty, I hate people who tell the same story over and over again.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

I'm with you, Pearl. I can't stand it when someone tells the same story over and over. You're a lot better than I, however, in that the fourth telling is your breaking point. Mine is the third.

I work with someone who, in order to maximize the amount of pity that she can sucker out of people, thus fulfilling her attention whoredom to the very brim, will tell a story to as few people at a time. And then she'll casually walk up to you when someone new is around and mention her story, so that, inevitably, they ask "What's that?"

And here we go again.

Lord A'mighty, I hate people who tell the same story over and over again.

Okay...I think I've run this joke into the ground...

Linda said...

Instead of deducting the 40%, multiply the price times 60- that's what you'll pay and it's just one mental transaction. Or doesn't that sound any better?

Chelle said...

Me no math worky. In fact the left side of my brain shriveled up and slid out of my ear like a canned prune ages ago. It was pretty embarrassing but I was excused from grade 4 math class.

Molly Potter said...

My body is a living map of things I can't do like iron, chop big vegetables, move my foot away quickly when something heavy and sharp is about to fall on it, always stay on a bike and work gates.

Sweet Cheeks said...

Mjenks....LMAO!!!!

Peggles...I think you should have your oven investigated for abuse. Sounds like it has a bad attitude to me. I'd threaten an Easy-Off interrogation if that sort of behavior continues. I can't believe Liza Bean didn't suggest that......
=]
xxx

Pearl said...

You guys are killing me. Jenks, that was awesome.

Linda, is that the trick?!

Chelle, you are one funny chick. I really do have to get over to your blog more than I do.

Molly, the body as a map! That's a great idea...

Sweet Cheeks, you silly woman. :-) This is the kinda stuff that makes me miss your blog.

I am so sorry that I don't get to comment on the comments as often as I'd like! What a bunch of weirdos!! :-)

Golden To Silver Val said...

This is why I don't fry chicken....it will pop and splatter hot grease on me and my hands...guaranteed.

justsomethoughts... said...

which is why i totally dont understand why you were in front of the sign that said "baking pans 40% off! today only!"

jules said...

I put lotion on my hands many times a day. I was aiming for once an hour ,but that got a little ridiculous.

tattytiara said...

Absolutely you should go to the carnival. Get yourself a cute pair of gloves and mess with the carnies' minds.

Green-Eyed Momster said...

I can bake and I've been baked. Does that even matter?

Hugs!!

Laoch of Chicago said...

Ok must have pastry!

Joanna Jenkins said...

You are so right about stories over and over again. I'd rather stick my head in the oven. Would that count as baking?
xo

Marla said...

Carnies and other toothless wonders. Now, there's your next post. You're welcome!

Tempo said...

I'm pretty sure thats how percentages are done Pearl...isn't it?
I know a bloke that was a carnie for many years then met a woman (yada, yada) lives here (yada) They are just as brash and pushy in real life!

A subspecies I think!

But to what?

Irisheyes said...

As I am reading this blog, I look at my left hand which still has a large scar on top from Thanksgiving. Also, I had to quit frying chicken in the nude. The splattered grease has left so many marks that they are listed as part of my physical description on my criminal record. Very incriminating....

The Bad Yogi said...

It's really OK, Pearl, that's how we teach people to do %. You learned your lessons well, young jedi...