Wednesday, May 27, 2009
"The tiger can't change his spots. No, wait, he did! Good for him!"
Ladies and gentlemen, I am undercover. I exist as a waitress and only a waitress. I have disguised my true nature so thoroughly that there is considerable discussion amongst my coworkers as to whether I am intelligent. My boss believes me to be a "ding-dong." He also believes that God burns down the houses of unbelievers, and that interracial relationships cause...hurricanes? This was unclear, but it may be related to his other belief that non-white people "smell bad in summer." Obviously he is a charmer in the extreme. Last night he informed me that I resembled a nanny goat. "That is...not a compliment, in America," I responded. "But nanny goats are so cute," he cooed. "Keep those feelings in Greece, where they belong!" I shrieked. Another waitress believes that my "elevator may not go all the way to the top." "Not only does my elevator go all the way to the top," I answered, "but Einstein and Marie Curie are banging each other in it." She stared at me for a long while. "That's impossible," she informed me gently, and stopped just short of twirling a slow, pitying finger at her temple.
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11 comments:
interracial relationships do cause hurricanes ... hurricanes of orgasmic harmony
I have been there, and, believe me, they will find you out. Sooner or later, they will begin to suspect that you are an intelligent life form, and they will recoil, muttering things like, "Prolly, you talk algebra" and "Do you even know Rascal Flatts?"
And by the way, interracial relationships cause Halle Berry, not hurricanes.
S'okay, cabra. These people will eventually end up in your poems. And I've read your poems. Unlovely, but that's how karma rolls.
Hurricanes of orgasmic harmony! My belief exactly.
Nonsense, RHE--what disguise could conceal your bulging brain? Not even a Richard Nixon mask could do it, or one of those sweet huge Darth Vader helmets.
earl, my anonymous baby, if you had ever read my poems you would know that a living person has never made an appearance in them, ever. It is mostly made-up infantas and things!
My favorite cabra poem had conjoined infantas! If they weren't real, don't ruin it for me.
Beware, me darlin' muse, Beware! If they believe that you think the things you think because you're stupid or crazy they will either ignore you or be nice to you out of pity. If they suspect that you believe these things because you've thought about them and actually believe them, you might end up like that conch-wielding brainiac in The Lord of the Flies. Act goofy and talk about going on Jerry Springer in order to get free marriage counseling. They'll like that.
My verification word is "hoofte." It sounds like a cute little house...er, barnshoe for ponies.
HA! Mahler shows up in at least one of your poems. As a side show act, certainly, but Mahler was indeed a sideshow act. You, my bigbrain waitress, are a CAD!
Rebecca
Calling a Cad a Cad for 12 centuries
I wrote that poem in 2002! Mahler wasn't actually living at the time!
OR WAS HE
That elevator comment was STELLAR! I give your coworker kudos for knowing that Einstein and Curie probably wouldn't make that cute of a couple....
I am sorry for contacting you like this - but you have been plagiarized at Literary Mary. Their is a post at PFFA (Gripes) showing the poems of yours taken. Both Island of Glass and Museum were taken. Perhaps you could help us out the witch by commenting here on the plagiarism?
cheers,
Barbara Jean who used to be toklas at PFFA
Thanks for the heads-up, Barbara! I have been wack wack busy, so by the time I got around to reading the PFFA thread it had already been locked. Is everything Under Control, or is there something more I should do?
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