Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

What is really going on inside a Garrett’s popcorn? It looks from the outside like it’s a popcorn shop, but that can’t be.

 

Every day, all day, a line forms at that place going around the block. It’s mostly tourists. Sometimes I think if I were ever going to really try it out I would have to dress like a tourist to even be allowed in that lines.

 

Can you tell me what’s happening? It’s not just popcorn…right?

 

With Affection,
Assuming Its Drugs

 

Dear Assuming,

 

Garrett’s popcorn is not drugs in the traditional sense of the word. It’s modern drugs- drugs for the 2010’s! It’s popcorn used as a vehicle for butter cheese and sugar.

 

The place is packed with tourists because vacation is the best time to eat like an insane person. You might have bad eating habits at home too, but most people have a sense of shame about it. On vacation you can eat fried dough right out in the open. That’s the whole reason people go to Disney land and Six Flags. It’s not the roller coasters, it’s the corn dogs.

 

Honestly, I used to eat Garrett’s about twice a month. It was when I was really broke all the time and needed to eat food with a high caloric content just in case I had to spend the rest of my money on parking tickets. You can eat a small bag of that stuff and be ok for about 48 hours. So it’s pretty useful. But that was back when really aggressive people worked there. It was like The Wiener Circle does snack food, and it keep all the tourists away. Now that all the workers have to be nice and the line looks like the line outside the Louvre it’s not worth it.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Dear Poor Lucky Me,
I think I’m in a bit of trouble. I called in sick today and told my boss that I had eaten bad clams. He replied “you should quit eating clams, this is the third bad batch you’ve had in a year”. Needless to say I almost crapped my pants. I just hadn’t been paying close attention to my excuses, and clearly he’s on to me now.

 

What do I do? We are days from my yearly review and I do respect my boss. I just don’t like going to work all the time. Please answer fast, I’m sort of freaking out.

 

-Name Withheld

 

Dear Name Withheld,
Go into work tomorrow and tell your boss the following:

 

I’m sorry I lied but it’s only because I picked up a stomach virus when I was in college and went to Eastern Europe with my parents. The virus usually lies dormant in my intestines but occasionally gets stirred up and wreaks havoc on my entire system. (Look down at the floor when you say “system”).

 

Explain that you didn’t tell him before because people at your other jobs got all freaked out about it even though the virus is decidedly not contagious. Try to remember to wring your hands and actually feel the embarrassment.

 

If your boss has any social skills whatsoever, he will mumble an apology while slowly walking backwards and holding his hands up in a “don’t come near me” gesture. This method is a bit of a gamble because some people will ask a lot of follow up questions. Do not get defensive, or make up detailed answers. Instead act like you are dying of shame and want to melt into the floor. Excuse yourself quickly and awkwardly.

 

Most importantly, take this opportunity to learn your lesson. Yes, write your excuses in your home calendar. And do not lie if you can’t handle the consequences. It’s a better idea to just go into work and hide in the stock room or the bathroom until the day is over. Spend the day calling co-workers and asking questions that elicit long responses. Calling in fake-sick is so 1995.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

When I first started to look pregnant I joked that I was becoming Gregor the Beetle from Kafka’s Metamorphosis. I felt awkward and had a weird appetite and didn’t want to go out in public. Then I stopped making the joke because my brother said no one reads Kafka. I don’t know if that’s true- I had it assigned in high school- but nothing’s worse than having to explain a literary joke and look like a nerd/snob so…

 

Then I realized what’s really happening: I’m turning into a giant baby. I’ve got chubby arms and legs and have to pee and poo at inconvenient times. I’m hungry every two hours. I want to sleep or be held all the time. I can’t get out of bed on my own. I cry a lot. I fluctuate between being fussy and giggly.

 

I think this is nature’s way of building empathy in me for the creature I’m about to be in charge of. When this little baby comes out of my giant baby body I think I’ll take one look at him and say, “I know what you’re going through my friend.”

10 Legitimate Reasons Why I’m Afraid Of Going On A Cruise

 

1. The Flesh Eating Virus. One person gets that and the whole shit is screwed. Same goes for the Bubonic Plague.

 

2. Buffet meals. I like the occasional buffet but you know they use the same food over and over again and let me assure you that those so called sneeze guards aren’t keeping everything safe.

 

3. The very real possibility of meeting a couple who we think we like the first night, then finding out the second night they’re annoying, then having to dodge them for eight more nights. I just don’t have that kind of strength.

 

4. When you flush the toilet…where does it go? I don’t think it goes into the ocean, I think it stays on the boat with you.

 

5. Eventually someone is going to force me to participate in a group activity.

 

6. Those cruise ships seem really high. If you fall off the side, are you doomed? I’m a strong swimmer but I think that fall might be a problem.

 

7. Is someone making sure the captain isn’t getting drunk and ramming us into stuff? Like mountains or other ships?

 

8. Once you’re in the middle of nowhere isn’t the chance of getting hijacked and forced into white slavery pretty good? I mean if I were a pirate/white slave proprietor I would go straight for the cruise ships and I can’t be the first person to think of that.

 

9. What if a seagull gets into the little window in my cabin and it flies around wreaking havoc and contaminating the food and fresh water I had been hoarding?

 

10. What if I can’t afford a cabin with a little window and sleep the entire trip because I never see any natural morning light to wake me up? That happened to me my senior year in college.

I got ma’am’ed twice today. I know it has happened before, but when your belly is so big you don’t trust yourself shaving your legs and the only shoes that fit are Converse sneakers you get a little sensitive. I got one from the maintenance man in my parking garage (I swear he used to Miss me) and one at Starbucks (usually I get a Love from the Irish girl but she wasn’t there today).

 

When I tried to complain about it later my work associates rolled their eyes and pointed to my wedding band (a substitute, the original doesn’t fit) and the baby in my belly. “Yes” I insisted “but what about my unlined forehead and impish expression?” They rolled their eyes again.

 

What a cruel foul fate that we don’t care about being perceived as youthful until we’re not. Just a few months ago, I was complaining about not being taken seriously at my job because I look too young. If I believed in God or Karma or fate I would feel uncomfortable about that conversation now, post-ma’am. I think I was bullshitting myself too, because I work in advertising. In this industry youthfulness is a sign of cool, and cool is more valuable than experience and respect. I just happen to be in the ad niche where looking too young is a more obvious sign that you probably don’t know what you’re talking about, which in my case is often true. During my short stint on the creative side, Stupid Kid was King. That’s why I’m still perversely drawn to novelty tee-shirts and blogs.

 

Anyway, I just had to vent. As I write this I’m realizing that ma’am isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me- personally or professionally. At least now when I get a parking ticket I can pay for it myself instead of calling my Dad-or my brother when my Dad was out of town. I earned my ma’am. I had a bunch of annoying jobs and boyfriends and destructive habits and now I’m a well-functioning contributing member of society. I donate to NPR, I can feed myself, and if a ma’am comes along with that I can live with it.

 

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

I am a liberal, but I went to a Tea Party rally today just to see what the fuss was about. I guess I went as a so-called liberal-plant, because I wanted to blend in.

 

The problem is that besides the many insane people, some of the slogans really made sense to me. I mean not the blatantly racists ones or the Obama-is-a-Marxist ones- but a few of the signs about deadlocked Congress and the bloated bureaucracy…I’ve been saying that all along!

 

Could it be that I’m not a liberal plant, but a reluctant Tea Bagger?

 

Signed,
Afraid My Family And Friends Will Find Out

 

Dear Afraid,
Let’s all calm down here. You are not a reluctant Tea Bagger, you are some one with a realistic view of the troubles in America’s political system. Disagreeing with the Democrats does not make you disenfranchised. Even the most heart liberal husband can think of a few things wrong with their party. It’s been a rough decade.

 

I’m not anti-Tea-Party, but I would like to point out that a group who started out with good intent has been hijacked by sleazy politicians who will stop at nothing to further their agenda. In other words, they’re now the same as all other political parties. I know I’m not saying anything terribly profound, but I still need to say it. They can all march around and declare that they have no cohesive group and that they have no leader but if Sarah Palin speaks at your for-profit political rallies I think it’s safe to say the jig is up.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Dear Poor Lucky Me,
My girlfriend has started gaining weight. Not a lot, maybe five pounds. But I think I know where this is headed and I really don’t want to date a fat chick. So I’m thinking about either buying her a gym membership for her birthday or even just suggesting she go on a diet.

 

I really love this girl but it’s really important that my mate is physically fit. I think she would understand where I was coming from too.

 

-Name Withheld

 

Dear Name Withheld,
Your situation reminds me of an old saying I heard once:

 

If you love something and it gains a little weight and you think it’s fat,
Let it go,
Because you’re probably painfully shallow,
Or have wicked low self esteem,
And it’s better off without you.

 

I think my Grandmother had that needlepointed on a pillow or something.
Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

 

Today I read an article about Mike Huckabee’s views on gay marriage. I’m pretty sure it was from the liberal media- it was an AP article. The things he was quoted as saying made me scream in fury. Now I can use Mike Huckabees face as aversion therapy the next time I go on a diet. If I want a hot dog, I just look at a picture of Huckabee and I’ll vomit with rage. Does a Snickers bar look good? Not after seeing a picture of Huckabee.

 

For instance:
Huckabee told the interviewer that not every group’s interests deserve to be accommodated, if their lifestyle is outside of what he called “the ideal.”

 

“That would be like saying, well there’s there are a lot of people who like to use drugs so let’s go ahead and accommodate those who want to use drugs. There are some people who believe in incest, so we should accommodate them. There are people who believe in polygamy, should we accommodate them?” he said, according to a transcript of the interview.

 

First of all, if Mike Huckabee is now in charge of defining an ideal lifestyle, I might as well end it all now. Or at least move to another country. Second of all, asshole, people who use drugs are already accommodated with a prescription. And people who use illegal drugs should be accommodated because the war of drugs is a complete failure. Third of of, no one “believes in incest” they are just mentally ill. To compare incest and homosexuality is to identify yourself as a complete idiot. In my opinion.

 

More insights from the insightful Huckabee:
On gay marriage, he said in an interview, “Marriage has historically never meant anything other than a man and a woman. It has never meant two men, two women, a man and his pet, or a man and a whole herd of pets.”

 

Again, homosexuality and bestiality are not the same, unless you are a bigoted redneck. Also, frankly, I couldn’t care less if a dude wants to marry his dog. How exactly does that threaten my marriage, or my morality? I don’t think if some one marries his dog, his herd of cows, or his long-time same sex partner that invalidates my heterosexual marriage. But then again, I’m not a god damn idiot.

 

I can’t help but think that people who are adamantly opposed to same-sex couples marrying are just closeted self-loathing homosexuals. Like they are so afraid if Homosexuality becomes more acceptable they’ll fall right into a bathhouse and start blowing dudes like mad because that’s really what they wanted to do all along. The only thing that keeps them “straight” is their wife and the good ole Bible. Except for the times they go to the Airport in Minneapolis. Or when a gay prostitute offers them a little meth and a relaxing massage. I’m pretty secure in my sexuality, so I don’t care what other people do sexually or who they marry.

 

I do care when people try and impose their pseudo-religious beliefs on anyone they find threatening to their neatly boxed in life. I also care when idiot politicians use hot button issues to try and drum up support from fringe groups. And I do believe that the people who agree with Huckabee are the vocal fringe. I have to believe that, at least until I have enough money to buy a private island.

10 Things I Am Immediately Suspicious Of When Approached By A Stranger

 

1. I’m about to be solicited by swingers/sex club members/be invited to a key party. This has never happened to me but I remain vigilant.

 

2. I will be asked for directions. This happens to me almost everyday. I am terrible with directions but refuse to be mistaken for a tourist, so I usually get out my iPhone and look up where they’re going. Then I show them on the map and walk them in the right direction until I feel like they’re headed in the right direction. This takes up a lot of my free time. And a lot of time that I’m supposed to be at work.

 

3. I will become entangled in the old “I lost my wallet and can’t get home to the suburbs” grift. Although I’ve been approached several times by such a grifter, I’m proud to say I’ve never fallen for it. Including the old, “my car broke down on the highway and I don’t have any money to fix it but I can sell you my car stereo for $20”- the car stereo has conveniently already been ripped from the dashboard of the “broken down” car.

 

4. I will be caught off guard by some attractive man telling me what incredible hair I have, then be sold a spa package to a salon I’ve never heard of. I almost been a victim of this many times, but I’m getting savvier in my old age. Now I’m careful never to have more than $7 cash on me at any given time. It keeps me out of trouble.
5. I will be asked if I want to save the children or the environment. I do want to save both. But not by being accosted on the street.

 

6. I will be recruited to join a cult. This happened to me in college. A girl walked up to me and said, “Are you lonely? Would you like to join the Upside Down Club?” I hightailed it out of there, offended that some one could see through my “I’m not lonely, I’m just a loner” routine. Later I found out the Upside Down Club was a cult. Being easily offended really saved my ass on that one.

 

7. I will be pick pocketed. But i’m always prepared by already having bad credit (my cards have tiny credit limits) and little cash (see #4).

 

8. I will be sold a Streetwise paper. I don’t mind giving a guy a buck or two, but I don’t want to hold that damn paper all day. I don’t even read the mainstream newspaper because I’m really grossed out by newspaper ink. I can’t imagine that Streetwise doesn’t use that same powdery ink that gets all over everything.

 

9. It’s not really a stranger, it’s actually some one I know but I’m weird about wearing my glasses so I can’t recognize people until there’s within three feet of my face. This happens to me pretty frequently. I would like to say that I might start wearing my glasses consistently…but…you know….

 

10. I will be asked for a quarter to feed the meter. I’m hoarding my quarters.

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

Why do some people feel compelled to broadcast copious details about their lives via the Internet?

 

I just met for a half hour with a prospective client for the first time. After he left, I checked out his twitter page and within five minutes I learned where he shops, eats, drinks, exercises, and gets his dry cleaning done. I now know what kind of car he drives, the brand and model of the bike he just bought, even how he likes his coffee from Starbucks.

 

Are these people insane? Is it really identity theft if you give it away?

 

Signed,

TMI (Too Much Internet)

 

Dear TMI,
Remember when you were in high school or college and you really wanted to be understood by your peers? You may have listened to your music extra loud so people knew you were cool enough to have that sweet sweet Phish bootleg, or you may have gotten some now regretted tattoo or piercing that represented how tough or unique you were.

 

But after college the urge remained- that’s why some people still want to drive flashy cars or wear blue tooth headsets all the time, even in the movies. Until…..THE INTERNET! The internet is the perfect tool to disseminate important information like how successful you are, how healthy you are, how hilarious you are, and how busy you are. You can reach your peers more efficiantly than you ever could with a nipple piecing and a tattoo of Speedy Gonzales.

 

Some people don’t carry this urgent need for constant attention, but most do (have you read my blog?). The real separation is made between who you care to learn about and who you roll your eyes at every time you read their “Gym Tan Lunch” Facebook updates.

 

And no, it’s not identity theft. Now it’s called “Data farming”.
Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me