On Working in Retail

Plunge rusty spoons into my sockets and dig out my eyes,

like little oysters I’ll swallow them whole.

Keep discounting yourself and there’ll be nothing left, my dear.


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Sales Associates are Transmission Vectors for Gossip


I’d Rather Stir the Pot than Drink the Kool-Aid!

What happened to the non-conformists?¬†What happened to the rebels? The Beatniks? The blazing fists in the air, I’m not gonna take it anymore, don’t-let-the-bastards-get-you-down-FIGHTERS?

Because they’re not over here.

We’ve all become a bunch of company men. Who can we throw under the bus to save our own skin? It makes me sick.

My boyfriend said I have an unsettling tendency to stir the pot. Be it with a superior at work or with a pushy stranger on line at Starbucks…I have, admittedly, a strong pull towards the (as I mentioned in a previous post) eye-rolling, “I Don’t Care” attitude BUT … Where has everyone else’s fire gone? Are we all just keeping our heads down and taking it up the ass?


When I was in second grade, my teacher Laura (I went to the coveted P.S. 234 back in the 80’s and we called our teachers by their first names) used to scream at me. I mean SCREAM. She thought I was ignoring her but I was just taking a mental journey with my pencil and my paper, conjuring up a creative world around me. What Laura didn’t understand is that my wonder world was sometimes soundproof. After repeated attempts to break the barrier Laura SCREAMED again, snatched my notebook, slammed my pencil down (snapping the tip) and schlepped me out to the hallway (the semi-private penalty box for public school teachers to abuse their students)…

Later, during parent-teacher conferences Laura took my mother aside and scoffed, “your daughter has a princess attitude.”

My mother paused, I’m sure, and lied, “I know. I’m raising her that way.”

*My mother didn’t raise us to be assholes, she raised us to beat our own drums. She understands. It’s not personal.

Doesn’t anyone have a sense of humor? What happened to that?

I mean come onnnnnn…The first twenty years of your life are anxiety filled and awkward, the next ten are a blur, the twenty after that are weighted down by a pound each year, company men, conformists, fights, kids, and self-satisfied smug douche bag bosses. Good luck if you get to sixty because that golden age is all beta-blockers, anticoagulants, arthritis and rheumatoid disorders… Considering that our cellular devices are really transmission vectors for cancer–compounded with the toxins and pollutants our generation has been exposed to, ¬†living past seventy isn’t in the cards.

SO have a fucking laugh, folks. Have a laugh and STIR THE POT!

Be Careful What You Wish For…