A Lament....

I'm so tired;
I'm so sore.
Ain't gonna do it for a nickel no more.
Fifteen cents is now my price.
Gimme a quarter and I'll do it twice.



Shine, mister?

My contribution to the Butterfly Effect

I have recently had moments of Omnipotence.

A ladybug trapped in a puddle of condensation on the picnic table. On its back, legs working, wings trying to flip it right side up. I lowered my finger, its legs latched on for dear life, I raised it out of the water and flicked it into the grass.
I was near the open front door. A bee flew inside. A honeybee. Honeybees need to be outdoors doing their jobs so that the vegetables will flourish. I held up both my hands in a pushing position. The bee turned right around and flew out again.
A bumblebee caught between the glass and screen of the livingroom window. A water glass, a piece of paper: a bumblebee released to freedom.
A tiny spider rappelling toward the kitchen counter from the wall cabinet above. I caught her thread on my finger and took her, swinging in the breeze, to the shrubs outdoors.
A tiny green Jiminy Cricket in my sink. Caught in my hands, transferred to his natural habitat, the Great Outdoors.

If the Butterfly Effect is real, I might have played havoc with the entire universe this week.

Image source

Tanka Time

 

In a grey landscape
bright colours lift the spirits.
Paint on a brave face,
and all who come in contact
with you, the artist, will smile.  

Blame all this on a strange lady called Penny, who likes playing games!

Makes A Change From Cod And Chips

Rosary .

A rosary of jellified Jerusalem artichoke bouillon surrounding king crab , crab salad , caviar and a cream of Jerusalem artichokes , it's described in yesterday's Volkskrant restaurant review as a culinary performance . The combination of lemon and hazel nuts , artichoke and crab was faultless ... the rosary itself rather bland apparently .

So given the distance , the length of the waiting list , the possible cost and my urgent need for supper now I might settle for something more plebeian .

But , if you're not in a hurry , Oud Kluis is the place and Sergio Herman's your man .

Car Salesmen Are People, Too

From: Bob B*****

Sent: June-20-11 9:20 PM
To: debs@shaw.ca
Subject: Your car may need servicing

Dear Deb?,
A couple of months ago you were working with our Sales Department, but ended up purchasing your vehicle?at another dealership.??Even though we weren't able to provide you with your new vehicle, we would like to help you keep?the vehicle you did buy running the best that it can.? I am Bob B****?, the Service Manager here at CMP Automotive Ltd. ?.? I manage an award winning?group of service specialists.?
I would love the chance to show you why we are the best Service Department in the area.? Please call us at (403) 207-1011?and schedule your next oil change with us.? In fact, if you mention that you received this email when you schedule your?appointment, we'll give you 10% off our normal price.
Thank you for your consideration,
Bob ?
(403) 207-1011?

From: Deborah S [mailto:debs@gmail.com]
Sent: June-20-11 10:43 PM
To: 'Bob ‘'
Subject: RE: Your car may need servicing

Dear Bob,

Thanks for your note. I thought I’d just let you know that you didn’t miss out on a sale, and that no one else got one from me either. I decided just to keep the car I had, as nothing else seemed quite as right for me as it is.

But the real point of my writing back is to let you know that you need to check the formatting of your emails, as the punctuation seems firmly stuck at the question mark. It made me laugh, but I’m sure you don’t want that reaction from all of your prospective customers.

My son recently gave up his job in sales at a car dealership after a valiant effort, and thanks to his experience I can appreciate how difficult and sometimes dispiriting a job it is. I wouldn’t like to think that your apparent uncertainty might lose you a potential sale.

I wish you, quite sincerely, every success in this creative endeavour to bring in customers.

Deborah 

Payback's a....

I used to work with a woman who was grossly overweight. In her absence, to amuse my coworkers, I would, cruelly, do an impression of her, waddling up the aisle between desks, making steamboat horn noises.
And then I myself grew . . . large.

This is not my eye. My eyes are brown.

A few weeks ago, I noted the abnormal swellings on Fridge Soup's mascot's eyes. Now I have a puffy eye.
I suspect Friday's inordinately heavy application of eyelash primer and mascara as the culprits.

But I'm not ruling out Karma.

Look! Lorries Mating

and that in broad daylight in the village square.

Quick, somebody throw a bucket of water before they rear up.