All I'm selling are false promises

Last week on the sales floor was, in ways, less frustrating than my first go-round because I’ve eased my internal pressures (mostly by farting) and am generally more assured in the fact that by simply speaking kindly and honestly with people, they will tolerate your complete incompetence. What I remain skittish about is the fact that I am not giving these people anything when I make a sale. I am selling them a piece of pink paper that says at some point before the magnetic poles reverse, they will receive the items listed therein. How that is supposed to happen is almost entirely beyond my control. So when they inevitably call me two months from now asking where their sink is, I will be just as bewildered as they.

As Katie has mentioned on her blog, she and I are moving at the end of the month. Our place is gorgeous. I bought a rug for it the other day. I never imagined myself buying a rug, but I seem to have gotten quite a deal. We are already planning a bash to christen the dwelling. Katie wants to call the apartment “Versailles,” which I’m not opposed to in theory, but in practice it doesn’t really roll off the tongue. We’re working on it. But the party will be excellent. You should come.

Thank God for Jezebel (the name stuck on my scooter like squashed bugs on her angular hood). I’ve taken to scooting around just to relieve the tension. Today, for instance, a brief jaunt to Cha Cha Cha! for lunch has refreshed me. Unfortunately, the minutes are scraping by, each clinging to the one after it, willing to drag them down but not succeeding and making the following minutes cling harder for their knowing that they will fall just like the ones who are lost.

I’ve endeavored to go to New York this September for two reasons, who happen to be people. The first is Greta, one of my closest friends whom I love dearly. She will be appearing in her first non-student lead role and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss it. I had the pleasure of seeing her as Juliet in the premier Portland Shakespeare troupe’s production when she was still in high school. Basically, the girl has the stuff. I’ve always known it. I’ve always told her so. And it’s basically just nice to be right.

The second is Alisa, an ex and extraordinary individual that anyone would be a fool to cast from their life just because she doesn’t want to smooch you anymore. So I didn’t, and I’m better off for it. I mean, she gave me a microwave for crying out loud. And I plan to have a thrilling ride on the back of her scooter for my trek back east.

There are others to see, but those are the important ones. The REALLY important ones, anyway. Nobody offended? Ok? Ok. So yes, it will be a lovely trip. I’ve not breathed the NY air for a few years. Hopefully it won’t be too full of poop.

Thank you for reading.