August, 2008


29
Aug 08

Unsolicited business advice.

Dear Former-Business-Owner-on-Richmond Avenue,

I know this is too little, too late (as the poets say), since your designer dress shop has already gone out of business…but you just plain should have known better.

I mean, this isn’t really the right economy for a fancy-schmancy dress shop, for one thing. But setting up right next door to a whorehouse? That wasn’t exactly smart. What do realtors always say? Location, location, location.

And really, “next door to a whorehouse” is not the location you — or your upscale clients — were looking for.

Maybe you did this deliberately. Perhaps you thought that designer blouses and low-rent blow jobs went hand-in-hand — or member-in-hand, as the case may be. I don’t know, you could have been set up by an unscrupulous leasing agent — or you could have been pioneering the new “Hand Jobs and Hand Bags District” of Houston. But hindsight is 20/20 — and I bet you can see clearly that you needed glasses when you signed that lease.

I just saw that someone new has rented your old space, Former-Business-Owner-on-Richmond Avenue. They’re remodeling, and they can remodel all they want, but there will still be a whorehouse next door. Also, the parking will still be shitty. Oh, well — live and learn, eh?

Good luck in future endeavors…

Sincerely,
Sarah


25
Aug 08

Name that tune.

This has been stuck in my head all morning:
My bra keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’…off of my shoulder.

I’ve got to stop listening to the oldies station. Or, more to the point, I’ve got to stop making up my own lyrics to songs on the oldies station.

It’s Monday. I can feel it. Sigh.


20
Aug 08

I want to believe (that I am not nuts).

So, I have had a bad case of “X-Files” fever lately. I saw the new movie, and although I found aspects of it completely shocking (no aliens? WTF? Mulder and Scully are shacked up?!?!), I did enjoy it. However, that’s not where the fever originated. I have been watching the series from episode one on DVD.

Herein lies the problem, see.

Okay, I can watch 2 or 3 episodes a night, and although I am pleased to report that it really was a good TV show (and not just a fancy of my ill-spent youth), it probably was best savored once a week. And I am fully frickin’ saturated at this point.

I mean, do you know how to tell you’ve watched way too many “X-Files” episodes in a row? First of all, you write a poem about Leonard Betts’s severed head. And then…then you call Lennox “Mulder” on accident.

(At least it didn’t happen during a particularly “intimate” moment, just a really sleepy one.)

That’s pretty disturbing. I actually like Lennox, but I can’t stand Mulder. He is, in the parlance of our English friends, a total knob. Lennox is my dearie, and not knobbish at all. So, you know, there’s that. He’s also more of a Scully, particularly when compared to me, as I both “want to believe” and have the poster on order to prove it.

Maybe I should watch a few episodes of “Arrested Development” or something, just to cleanse the palate. And buy Mul…um…Lennox some flowers or something.