I am introducing a new themed blog called "Fan Mail." My first installment is a letter to Miley Cyrus. I am calling it Fan Mail because I want to. I also like crunchy apples.
Dear Miley Cyrus:
I am not ashamed to admit that I watch Hannah Montana on occassion. I am ashamed, however, to admit that I enjoy it. Although the dialogue lacks the sophistication of, say, the Teletubbies, the premise is good. I do find it rather ridiculous that you can throw on a blonde wig and no one knows you are a mega-superstar. That's about as convincing as Clark Kent hiding his Superman alter ego behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. At least he added spandex to the mix.
I even watched The Last Song. And I am glad that I did because I had no idea you were capable of actually speaking in a normal, inside, voice. Who knew. I also think you should stick with Liam Helmsworth (or whatever his name is). Not only is he super hot, he also has an accent, which makes him double sexy.
It would also be nice if you made up with Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez. They seem like such nice girls. It would be great if you started a rock band with them and sang wholesome, family friendly songs. Maybe you could let them try on your Hannah Montana wig. Be careful if you do though. Sharing wigs can spread lice and can lead to pregnancy. I'm not 100% sure about it, but as a precaution, you should wear a skull cap.
On a different note: I am very concerned about your costumes because you seem to be wearing less and less clothing. I know the economy is bad, but I would be happy to donate what I can so you can afford the second half of your skirt. And P.S. Underwear is meant to be worn UNDER your clothing. It makes sense when you think about it. Corsets do look sexy (not to mention the fact that they are an antiquated form of torture) but the whole sado-masichism look is giving Disney a bad name.
I suppose by now you are a gajillionaire. Totally impressed. My first job netted me a cool $5.15/hr and I spent 8 hours each work day up to my pits in grease and chicken nuggets. At least I got a great discount on food and all the free soda I could drink - not to mention the horrific acne that resulted from excessive exposure to liquid animal fat, the burn scars on my forearms from grilling class D burger meat and the fact that I smelled like french fries for the entire seventh months I worked there (and no amount of scrubbing could relieve that stench).
It was all worth it when I received my first paycheck for $86.32 after taxes - I felt like I'd hit the jackpot. In fact, I bought a whole 6-pack of Dr. Pepper at the Piggly Wiggly to celebrate the occassion. Of course, I didn't have to deal with the Paparazzi. But, then again, I also didn't get my own trailer or personal trainer. I guess there are always trade-offs.
No, I am not jealous that you were named one of the most influential Hollywood celebrities before you could vote or stay up past 10 pm on a school night. In fact, I am relieved that honor wasn't bestowed on LiLo(who I will also write to once I can obtain the address of her current jail). I just hope you continue to keep your nose clean and tell your dad to get a hair cut and stop dressing like your boyfriend. He's what, 70 now?? (Your dad, not your BF.) And if you could get him to shave off his lower lip hair, that would be great too. He looks like he was eating chocolate pudding and missed his mouth.
That is all. Have a nice day!
-Pokey
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Who Am I?
Who am I?
I came from a magical land far, far away where soccer is football and a Queen is a woman.
I longed to marry Prince William for all the wrong reasons – I thought I actually loved him.
I speak English, I read and write German, and I talk to myself in a language all my own.
I am who I am, a walking, talking contradiction – but aren’t we all at every stage.
I admire Bridget Jones – but I pray I am not 30, single and miserable - unless I also live in London.
I love the law, but I can’t stand lawyers – ironic that I will be one soon.
I hope with all my heart that God will Bless America – and bless me to move back to Europe.
I know, deep down, I am jealous of me, but I absolutely refuse to admit that to myself.
I think not that superficiality bespeaks a poor character – if we were all philosophers, there’d be no opinions.
I believe that life should be embraced – that death must not be feared – and that chocolate should be eaten every day.
I understand myself to be a realist, but only when I am not dreaming.
I was once asked at a dance if I knew it took two to tango – I then introduced him to my imaginary friend.
I came, I longed, I speak, I am.
I admire, I love, I hope, I know.
I think, I believe, I understand, I was.
Here I am now, and
I would really like a job.
So somebody please save me from my misery.
Thank you.
I came from a magical land far, far away where soccer is football and a Queen is a woman.
I longed to marry Prince William for all the wrong reasons – I thought I actually loved him.
I speak English, I read and write German, and I talk to myself in a language all my own.
I am who I am, a walking, talking contradiction – but aren’t we all at every stage.
I admire Bridget Jones – but I pray I am not 30, single and miserable - unless I also live in London.
I love the law, but I can’t stand lawyers – ironic that I will be one soon.
I hope with all my heart that God will Bless America – and bless me to move back to Europe.
I know, deep down, I am jealous of me, but I absolutely refuse to admit that to myself.
I think not that superficiality bespeaks a poor character – if we were all philosophers, there’d be no opinions.
I believe that life should be embraced – that death must not be feared – and that chocolate should be eaten every day.
I understand myself to be a realist, but only when I am not dreaming.
I was once asked at a dance if I knew it took two to tango – I then introduced him to my imaginary friend.
I came, I longed, I speak, I am.
I admire, I love, I hope, I know.
I think, I believe, I understand, I was.
Here I am now, and
I would really like a job.
So somebody please save me from my misery.
Thank you.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Legal Cover Letter
Dewey, Cheatham & Howe
Attorney Recruitment Department
1111 East Main Street, Suite 1500
Richmond, VA 23218
August 12, 2010
Re: Application for Associate Attorney Position
To Whom It May Concern:
It is not often that one is presented with a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” Today is that day for you. I am happy to present myself as the next great associate attorney at Dewey Cheatham and Howe. I am the diamond in the rough–the future Pro-Bowl quarterback undrafted until the fourth round–a sophisticated legal robot sent back through time to change the future for one lucky law firm. As a recent honor graduate of UNC School of Law, I am poised to begin my meteoric career with your firm. Not only will you find my stats superb across the board, I also come with a work ethic that is only surpassed by the family Formicidae (or ants for the lay person) and a skill set that would make all other candidates for this position blush. I hope you read on and I hope you seize this opportunity because Pokey does not come knocking twice.
If you want someone who is truly committed, then I am the right candidate for the job. Many out-of-work attorneys will claim that they do not mind working long hours for little or no recognition; however, these ne’er-do-wells are likely desperate and willing to say whatever they feel is necessary to land the paycheck. In three years they will be gone, claiming that they can no longer endure the billable hours your firm requires insofar as it is affecting their health and family life. How am I different? To start with, I am a bona-fide over-achiever and have not had or cared to have a real “weekend” since 1997 when I started my first job as the Saturday opening crew at McDonald’s. Secondly, I haven’t been sick in over seven years. I shun hand sanitizer and ate enough dirt as a child to build up all the immunities I need to live to be 120. Finally, I am a glorified bachelorette and thank God that women’s lib has made it socially acceptable for me to be married to my job without having to join a convent.
As far as my skills are concerned, your firm will greatly benefit from my employment. Not only am I highly intelligent and capable to perform sophisticated legal work, I will also do your research, get your coffee, bill your hours, pick up your dry cleaning, babysit your children and give up my holidays to prepare your memos all with a smile on my face and while whistling a variety of tunes from pre-1970 Disney cartoon classics. Furthermore, if that is not enough to procure me an offer on the spot, I am somewhat of a MacGuyver behind the desk: Give me a paperclip, a piece of paper and a LexisNexis account and I can save the world.
Thank you for your consideration of my application. I look forward to discussing with you my future position at Dewey Cheatham and Howe.
Sincerely,
Pokey, J.D.
A.K.A. Justice Girl
Attorney Recruitment Department
1111 East Main Street, Suite 1500
Richmond, VA 23218
August 12, 2010
Re: Application for Associate Attorney Position
To Whom It May Concern:
It is not often that one is presented with a “once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” Today is that day for you. I am happy to present myself as the next great associate attorney at Dewey Cheatham and Howe. I am the diamond in the rough–the future Pro-Bowl quarterback undrafted until the fourth round–a sophisticated legal robot sent back through time to change the future for one lucky law firm. As a recent honor graduate of UNC School of Law, I am poised to begin my meteoric career with your firm. Not only will you find my stats superb across the board, I also come with a work ethic that is only surpassed by the family Formicidae (or ants for the lay person) and a skill set that would make all other candidates for this position blush. I hope you read on and I hope you seize this opportunity because Pokey does not come knocking twice.
If you want someone who is truly committed, then I am the right candidate for the job. Many out-of-work attorneys will claim that they do not mind working long hours for little or no recognition; however, these ne’er-do-wells are likely desperate and willing to say whatever they feel is necessary to land the paycheck. In three years they will be gone, claiming that they can no longer endure the billable hours your firm requires insofar as it is affecting their health and family life. How am I different? To start with, I am a bona-fide over-achiever and have not had or cared to have a real “weekend” since 1997 when I started my first job as the Saturday opening crew at McDonald’s. Secondly, I haven’t been sick in over seven years. I shun hand sanitizer and ate enough dirt as a child to build up all the immunities I need to live to be 120. Finally, I am a glorified bachelorette and thank God that women’s lib has made it socially acceptable for me to be married to my job without having to join a convent.
As far as my skills are concerned, your firm will greatly benefit from my employment. Not only am I highly intelligent and capable to perform sophisticated legal work, I will also do your research, get your coffee, bill your hours, pick up your dry cleaning, babysit your children and give up my holidays to prepare your memos all with a smile on my face and while whistling a variety of tunes from pre-1970 Disney cartoon classics. Furthermore, if that is not enough to procure me an offer on the spot, I am somewhat of a MacGuyver behind the desk: Give me a paperclip, a piece of paper and a LexisNexis account and I can save the world.
Thank you for your consideration of my application. I look forward to discussing with you my future position at Dewey Cheatham and Howe.
Sincerely,
Pokey, J.D.
A.K.A. Justice Girl
Dear Delilah
Dear Delilah,
How are you? I am good. Things are tough here these days. Papa lost his little finger in a tragic accident involving a pint of whiskey, a rubber band and a hacksaw, Mama lost in the pie baking contest to Janet Friedelhorn – she thinks it’s a jewish conspiracy against the righteous Christians (“But never you mind,” she told me, “They’ll get what’s coming to them in the end on Judgment Day.”), to make Mama feel better, Sally Jo ate the entire prune pie in one sitting and done spent the next 3 days locked in the outhouse – none of us could use it for a week afterwards, and John-Boy ran off with that whore Daisy-May.
Other than that, I am doing well. I am writing slow cuz I know you don’t read fast.
Next week is the big dance at the Town Hall to celebrate the 150 year anniversary of the day our Founder, Big Willy Johnson, got lost on his way to Topeka. He’d had a little too much Peach Moonshine and passed out at the site of the town hall. It didn’t help none that the horse he’d thought he’d stolen at the saloon –turned out to be the fat daughter of the owner. she refused to go any farther and they got married and had 10 chillens.
I am excited about the dance. I think I’ll let Jim Smallsack take me. He came round to the house just last month to eat Mama’s county-fried chicken dinner. Of course, he ain’t been round since, but none of us could leave the bed for a spell after eating Mama’s country-fried chicken anyhow. I think he still likes me cuz he done told Mary Katherine Bigteethsmallface that he thought I was super swell. I think I’ll wear my red dress and stockings. I have a bunion on my right foot that looks awful bad, but I can wear closed toed shoes to cover that up. I just hope it don’t mess with my dancing.
The farm is doing well. We got 3 chickens, but two of them don’t lay no eggs. The third only lays egg whites. But Papa says that ain’t bad cuz we’ll all have lower cholesterol in the end. We planted tomatoes and lima beans and pineapple. Before he done run off with that whore Daisy-May, John Boy told Papa that Pineapple don’t grow here. We ain’t seen none yet, but Papa goes out every day to talk the Pineapple into growing so he can mail one to John Boy when we find out where he done run off to. I thought I’d done seen a sprout last week, but it turned out to be a marijuana plant. So I smoked it up and then went and ate an entire Mama’s Prune Pie myself. That is the last time I will ever do that.
Well, girl. I miss you real big. When you get back home we'll go out to the cemetery and become blood sisters again. I ain't felt right since I done disowned you after I catched you kissin' on Jethro Gumsmacker in the fourth grade. If I'd known that'd be his last year in school it would've mattered as much as a fly on horse shit.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Love,
Pokey
How are you? I am good. Things are tough here these days. Papa lost his little finger in a tragic accident involving a pint of whiskey, a rubber band and a hacksaw, Mama lost in the pie baking contest to Janet Friedelhorn – she thinks it’s a jewish conspiracy against the righteous Christians (“But never you mind,” she told me, “They’ll get what’s coming to them in the end on Judgment Day.”), to make Mama feel better, Sally Jo ate the entire prune pie in one sitting and done spent the next 3 days locked in the outhouse – none of us could use it for a week afterwards, and John-Boy ran off with that whore Daisy-May.
Other than that, I am doing well. I am writing slow cuz I know you don’t read fast.
Next week is the big dance at the Town Hall to celebrate the 150 year anniversary of the day our Founder, Big Willy Johnson, got lost on his way to Topeka. He’d had a little too much Peach Moonshine and passed out at the site of the town hall. It didn’t help none that the horse he’d thought he’d stolen at the saloon –turned out to be the fat daughter of the owner. she refused to go any farther and they got married and had 10 chillens.
I am excited about the dance. I think I’ll let Jim Smallsack take me. He came round to the house just last month to eat Mama’s county-fried chicken dinner. Of course, he ain’t been round since, but none of us could leave the bed for a spell after eating Mama’s country-fried chicken anyhow. I think he still likes me cuz he done told Mary Katherine Bigteethsmallface that he thought I was super swell. I think I’ll wear my red dress and stockings. I have a bunion on my right foot that looks awful bad, but I can wear closed toed shoes to cover that up. I just hope it don’t mess with my dancing.
The farm is doing well. We got 3 chickens, but two of them don’t lay no eggs. The third only lays egg whites. But Papa says that ain’t bad cuz we’ll all have lower cholesterol in the end. We planted tomatoes and lima beans and pineapple. Before he done run off with that whore Daisy-May, John Boy told Papa that Pineapple don’t grow here. We ain’t seen none yet, but Papa goes out every day to talk the Pineapple into growing so he can mail one to John Boy when we find out where he done run off to. I thought I’d done seen a sprout last week, but it turned out to be a marijuana plant. So I smoked it up and then went and ate an entire Mama’s Prune Pie myself. That is the last time I will ever do that.
Well, girl. I miss you real big. When you get back home we'll go out to the cemetery and become blood sisters again. I ain't felt right since I done disowned you after I catched you kissin' on Jethro Gumsmacker in the fourth grade. If I'd known that'd be his last year in school it would've mattered as much as a fly on horse shit.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Love,
Pokey
Thursday, September 9, 2010
A History of Myself by Me Part 2
Rewinding to the 'yada' part of my original March 2010 post, aptly titled A History of Myself by Me Part 1, I thought I should refrain from such further ambiguity and provide a few more details of my past. In this installment, I will explain how I created the lottery. Yes, the Powerball, the Mega Millions, the enticing scratchers!! I created them. And here is how:
This one day when I was 12, I was walking home from school. I didn't have shoes back then because all the leather was confiscated by the government in an effort to resolve the tension between freedom of religion and Sado-Masichism. So I was walking - and it was up hill both ways because the world was flat and rested on a fulcrum, which is a fancy schmanzy word for an upside down triangle. I like using fancy words to show how smart I am - and because I also like dictionary.com. But, I digress. At any rate, don't believe the hype. Ol' Chris Columbus didn't discover the world was round. It didn't become round until the start of the Oprah Winfrey Show in the 1980's (for reasons that are still highly classified).
Anyways, while walking I came upon a magical elf who first accused me of stealing all his lucky charms. I told him that was impossible as my parents refused to purchase sugary cereals and I much preferred the prizes at the bottom of Honey Nut Cheerios packages instead. After hearing this, he felt bad and told me he'd grant me 2 wishes. I asked why not 3. But he said that would be greedy and that the whole 3 wish thing was a major falsehood perpetuated by the Media and Disney's Aladin. It had always been 2.
I thought about it and for my first wish, I wished for all of America's wealth. The Elf laughed and asked me if I was sure...I said of course and he granted my wish. Turns out, America isn't really wealthy...So now, after 7 years of college, I do, indeed, possess a large portion of the national debt.
So I thought I'd try again. This time I asked for 100 million dollars. Again, I blundered. You see, the elf, well, he was a socialist elf, borderline communist and couldn't, in good conscience, grant my wish as such. He proposed, instead, to create a lottery so that everyone would have a fair shot and convenience stores would still get business once gas pumps all become pre-pay with card.
Seeing the logic in his proposal, I agreed. And that, my friends, is how I single handedly created the lottery. You're welcome. And for all of you out there who claim that the lottery is responsible for the deterioration of societal values and for the creation of gambling addiction and for taking the money out of the pockets of hard-working unemployed people dreaming of the fast road to abundant wealth with the least amount of pit stops along the way: You are welcome, too. What good is moral superiority without something to complain about?
This one day when I was 12, I was walking home from school. I didn't have shoes back then because all the leather was confiscated by the government in an effort to resolve the tension between freedom of religion and Sado-Masichism. So I was walking - and it was up hill both ways because the world was flat and rested on a fulcrum, which is a fancy schmanzy word for an upside down triangle. I like using fancy words to show how smart I am - and because I also like dictionary.com. But, I digress. At any rate, don't believe the hype. Ol' Chris Columbus didn't discover the world was round. It didn't become round until the start of the Oprah Winfrey Show in the 1980's (for reasons that are still highly classified).
Anyways, while walking I came upon a magical elf who first accused me of stealing all his lucky charms. I told him that was impossible as my parents refused to purchase sugary cereals and I much preferred the prizes at the bottom of Honey Nut Cheerios packages instead. After hearing this, he felt bad and told me he'd grant me 2 wishes. I asked why not 3. But he said that would be greedy and that the whole 3 wish thing was a major falsehood perpetuated by the Media and Disney's Aladin. It had always been 2.
I thought about it and for my first wish, I wished for all of America's wealth. The Elf laughed and asked me if I was sure...I said of course and he granted my wish. Turns out, America isn't really wealthy...So now, after 7 years of college, I do, indeed, possess a large portion of the national debt.
So I thought I'd try again. This time I asked for 100 million dollars. Again, I blundered. You see, the elf, well, he was a socialist elf, borderline communist and couldn't, in good conscience, grant my wish as such. He proposed, instead, to create a lottery so that everyone would have a fair shot and convenience stores would still get business once gas pumps all become pre-pay with card.
Seeing the logic in his proposal, I agreed. And that, my friends, is how I single handedly created the lottery. You're welcome. And for all of you out there who claim that the lottery is responsible for the deterioration of societal values and for the creation of gambling addiction and for taking the money out of the pockets of hard-working unemployed people dreaming of the fast road to abundant wealth with the least amount of pit stops along the way: You are welcome, too. What good is moral superiority without something to complain about?
Fe fi fo fum. Job searching is no fun!!
I am CENSORED years old, a graduate of TWO (not ONE) BUT TWO (that is more) national universities with B.A.s in German and Political Science and a J.D. I speak fluent German and English, I have lived in four countries and have dual citizenship, etc. etc. Basically, I am pretty awesome.
The trouble is, I am all these things and I can't find a job to save my life or my credit score. I could blame the recession. I could blame the current administration for not curbing this recession. I could even blame my universities for drawing me to them with such statistics as "99.9% of our graduates have found employment within 6 months of graduation." Who knew I would be the .1% who hasn't. Tis a cross I bear and my arms hurt. Simon, think you'd take it up for a bit while I grab a drink or 20?
No, I am not going to fall into the blame/pessimistic/reality trap! There's always the lottery. Besides, who has time for sulking. I have a job to find and an unemployment benefits application to fill out.
If I am going to blame anyone, I will have much more success in blaming the elephants. Yes, that's right. I am going to blame elephants. Those large, gray trunk-bearing beasts are the cause of my current misery. They waltz around Africa or the Zoo or the Circus with their big ears and bad memories and forget (hence the memory-lapse) that the rest of us are suffering in this current economic climate. They are so smug. Those of them who are productive members of society (quote-unquote) have set a horrible precedent: They work for peanuts. Big business has caught on to their scheme. What this means is that prospective employers won't hire anyone who has the audacity to demand recompense in any monetary form. "What's good enough for the elephants..." They always say.
Well, you know what I have to say to that: YOU TRY DEPOSITING PEANUTS INTO THE ATM AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!! You try paying your car payment or calling your credit card company and offering, in lieu of the minimum payment, 200 of the finest peanuts the Ringling Brothers has to offer. Quatsch. Bologna.
Peanuts. Stupid elephants. You are smelly and your pregnancies last 22 months. You've ruined my life.
I am CENSORED years old, a graduate of TWO (not ONE) BUT TWO (that is more) national universities with B.A.s in German and Political Science and a J.D. I speak fluent German and English, I have lived in four countries and have dual citizenship, etc. etc. Basically, I am pretty awesome.
The trouble is, I am all these things and I can't find a job to save my life or my credit score. I could blame the recession. I could blame the current administration for not curbing this recession. I could even blame my universities for drawing me to them with such statistics as "99.9% of our graduates have found employment within 6 months of graduation." Who knew I would be the .1% who hasn't. Tis a cross I bear and my arms hurt. Simon, think you'd take it up for a bit while I grab a drink or 20?
No, I am not going to fall into the blame/pessimistic/reality trap! There's always the lottery. Besides, who has time for sulking. I have a job to find and an unemployment benefits application to fill out.
If I am going to blame anyone, I will have much more success in blaming the elephants. Yes, that's right. I am going to blame elephants. Those large, gray trunk-bearing beasts are the cause of my current misery. They waltz around Africa or the Zoo or the Circus with their big ears and bad memories and forget (hence the memory-lapse) that the rest of us are suffering in this current economic climate. They are so smug. Those of them who are productive members of society (quote-unquote) have set a horrible precedent: They work for peanuts. Big business has caught on to their scheme. What this means is that prospective employers won't hire anyone who has the audacity to demand recompense in any monetary form. "What's good enough for the elephants..." They always say.
Well, you know what I have to say to that: YOU TRY DEPOSITING PEANUTS INTO THE ATM AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!! You try paying your car payment or calling your credit card company and offering, in lieu of the minimum payment, 200 of the finest peanuts the Ringling Brothers has to offer. Quatsch. Bologna.
Peanuts. Stupid elephants. You are smelly and your pregnancies last 22 months. You've ruined my life.
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