Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Tuesday's Lessons Questions and Confessions
Answer: I don’t think so.
Case in point, the jogger I saw this morning running WITH A BACKPACK, like running itself isn't torture enough, fer crying out loud. I mean, basically what I am trying to say is--you wouldn't preserve a velvet painting in a climate controlled room, would you? You would, however, restore a masterpiece, like the Mona Lisa (no relation) to its former glory. But if you are dealing with flawed goods from the get-go, I wouldn't waste the money. Skip the botox and the facials and the manicures. Look in the mirror. Do you look like Vivian Leigh? Then put down that scalpel and those fussy delusions of grandeur! Then thank me for saving you lots of money. Now go and learn to be happy in your own skin.
Oh, we’re just being tacky and mean this morning. Having to do with existential quandaries and all. Damn those existential quandaries!
The new job is good but the problem is, it is a “job.” It is a better “job” than the last one I had, but I don’t seem to be in a chalet hugging a Swiss alp pondering the next sentence to grace my purple Mac laptop or anything, you know? Yeah, THAT kind of existential breakdown. Or chugging through the rugged terrain of Afghanistan freeing women from religious oppression and breathing in the ancient charmed air of conquerors and turbaned men. Pass the cumin.
Went up to the kook bank yesterday and I am starting to get a little scared of it. Like I can hear the people in the audience whispering like they do in a horror movie, why does she keep going in there? Appalling Bank Executrix was on another Very Loud Perfunctory Call; the introductory greeting stewardess was on a personal call; the only productive teller was wearing an ‘80’s pink tie.
Walking to the bank there was a Wallace Beery sort of man sitting at the Starbucks twisting his nose hairs into a solitary braid. When I walked back from the bank, he was still there.
I went into a precious little boutique filled with sequined satin jewel boxes, whimsical magnets and grapefruit and fig soap. I thought about nuclear holocaust and communism, naturally. As in, there was not one single thing in there that would be helpful following a nuclear holocaust and no wonder developing countries hate us. Because we have entire stores filled with useless gewgaws manned by barking Chevy Chase beeyatches. I picked up two candles and the owner said, “Those are the best candles.” I said, “Do you have candle sticks?” “No!” Was the breezy and unhelpful reply. I thought, well maybe you should. Since you have 8,000 other useless little trinkets why not have one thing that actually supports, holds and makes sense with another item? How about that?
Here’s another confession: I have developed the weirdest yen. I want a Land Rover Discovery. Speaking of capitalist pigs…
Reason #802 that it’s good I’m not at my last job: they had to work the day after Thanksgiving AND Saturday and Sunday. Ouch.
Do you ever get weirded out when you send someone a really nice email or an email with a question and the person doesn’t write you back?
Does it hurt your feelings when you have a party and someone doesn’t write or call to thank you? It hurts mine. Of course. And if you’ve known me for ten minutes, you would know that. And the people I have to my house I have always known for at least ten years. So anyone who comes to my house would know that it would hurt my feelings. But the problem is, I think some people confuse saying “thank you” with standing on ceremony. Saying thank you is not a formality. It is not a matter of adhering to archaic etiquette rules encased in mothballs. It’s about telling someone who has made an effort that you appreciate it. Because people who welcome you into their homes and their lives are usually people with sappy sensitive hearts. And they need to be acknowledged.
So, lessons learned from today:
1) If you are a dog, put down the barbell. 2) If you put your feet under someone’s table, say thank you. No excuses on this one! 3)Don’t stock up on gewgaws in the event of a nuclear threat. 4) Don’t go to the bank on Wisconsin Avenue above Woodmont. It’s scary. 5) Have a great day!! |
Cynicism is another word for reality