Dear Martha:
I am so sorry that some horrific accident or past trauma as left you without a personality. That is so tragic. Of all the things to lose…a limb would have been more compassionate. I tried to watch your Thanksgiving special this morning, and found myself extremely thankful for the moment I changed the channel.
I thought prison would make you more charismatic – or at least more interesting. But no, there are no tear tats to talk about, no shank scar stories to tell, and no girlfriends named Bubba – at least none that you have disclosed.
I am in awe of how you have built an empire on teaching people how to make the kitschy knick knacks that usually end up on the 90% markdown shelf at gift stores throughout the country or as donations to local charities for the tax write off or – worse yet – as kindling for the insurance fire started to recoup the losses sustained attempting to build a sustainable business selling crap. And the people who receive it? One word: Regift.
I am really looking forward to watching you make snowmen out of marshmallows and the tears of small children at Christmas. Afterwards, I am going to drink myself into oblivion by consuming massive amounts of spoiled eggnog and spend the rest of the night singing “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” while dancing around the tree in my underwear and a Santa hat. I will need some method of forgetting the last hour and a half of my life that I’ll never get back.
I honestly don’t understand how a person who basically lives her creative outlet 24/7 can develop such a horrible reputation for being the world’s biggest biddy. I thought that outlets were important for maintaining emotional balance in life. And the stuff you do is even more important for helping housewives alleviate hours of boredom so that they don’t eventually go bat crazy from spending their days cooking, cleaning and chauffeuring and eat their own children.
Yet one of life’s anomalies for Pokey to ponder…
Happy Thanksgiving, you boring, bitch of a woman. I am sure you will be the one with the last laugh, as you stuff the Turkey’s butt with a mixture of cranberry stuffing and hatred.
-Pokey
Monday, November 15, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Random: ??????????????????????
Dear Blog,
It has been awhile. I know I have neglected you. I told you I was going out for milk and would be back soon...that was 3 weeks ago. I can only imagine what you have told your shrink. Can't be good.
The truth is, I have been working. Yes, unimaginable - me actually earning dough. It has been rough. And I think I actually miss unemployment. I have also neglected Oprah and the rest of the daytime television lineup.
But here I am, just a girl, standing here, asking you to love me. Knock, knock - who's there? Friendship. Won't you let me in? No, not unless you have pizza. And not any of that Digiorno crap..."tastes like delivery" just like my farts smell like gum drops.
So the manager at the nameless fatory of drudgery came to my desk all in a huff. And he asked me about a letter I'd issued that day - one of the 89 gajillion so of course I had no idea what he was talking about. Anyhoo, he gave me this spiel about how I shouldn't issue a letter without his approval and blah blah blah and how I'd better run across the way to the other building and make sure that the mail clerks didn't send out the letter...Ummmmmmmm. Mr. Manager. First off, the task was sent to me to mail the letter. So if you want to publicize anyone's fail, blame the adjustor who sent the task in the first place. Second of all, until you decide to stop firing people right and left, leaving me (a TEMP) and one other girl to do the work of THREE full timers, then stop telling me I need to run ANYWHERE when the other girl is on lunch break and we need someone to man the phones unless YOU want to take new losses. Seriously. Stop wasting my time. I am far too intelligent and important to put up with this. You see the ESQ. behind my name??? Yes. That means you suck and I don't. Seriously...But that was what I should have said. What I said: I am so sorry. I will call the mailroom right away and remedy this situation. And that's just what I did.
And why??? Because Pokey is humble and I put my pants on the same way you do - one leg at a time, unless I put them on two legs at a time.
This rant is going nowhere. Someone get in their car and come pick me up. I want to go out. Cuz I gotta feelin that tonight's gonna be a good good night. Wooohooo.
Peace in the middle east. What what.
Pokey
It has been awhile. I know I have neglected you. I told you I was going out for milk and would be back soon...that was 3 weeks ago. I can only imagine what you have told your shrink. Can't be good.
The truth is, I have been working. Yes, unimaginable - me actually earning dough. It has been rough. And I think I actually miss unemployment. I have also neglected Oprah and the rest of the daytime television lineup.
But here I am, just a girl, standing here, asking you to love me. Knock, knock - who's there? Friendship. Won't you let me in? No, not unless you have pizza. And not any of that Digiorno crap..."tastes like delivery" just like my farts smell like gum drops.
So the manager at the nameless fatory of drudgery came to my desk all in a huff. And he asked me about a letter I'd issued that day - one of the 89 gajillion so of course I had no idea what he was talking about. Anyhoo, he gave me this spiel about how I shouldn't issue a letter without his approval and blah blah blah and how I'd better run across the way to the other building and make sure that the mail clerks didn't send out the letter...Ummmmmmmm. Mr. Manager. First off, the task was sent to me to mail the letter. So if you want to publicize anyone's fail, blame the adjustor who sent the task in the first place. Second of all, until you decide to stop firing people right and left, leaving me (a TEMP) and one other girl to do the work of THREE full timers, then stop telling me I need to run ANYWHERE when the other girl is on lunch break and we need someone to man the phones unless YOU want to take new losses. Seriously. Stop wasting my time. I am far too intelligent and important to put up with this. You see the ESQ. behind my name??? Yes. That means you suck and I don't. Seriously...But that was what I should have said. What I said: I am so sorry. I will call the mailroom right away and remedy this situation. And that's just what I did.
And why??? Because Pokey is humble and I put my pants on the same way you do - one leg at a time, unless I put them on two legs at a time.
This rant is going nowhere. Someone get in their car and come pick me up. I want to go out. Cuz I gotta feelin that tonight's gonna be a good good night. Wooohooo.
Peace in the middle east. What what.
Pokey
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