BPJ

Since my actual life has gotten in the way of the life I'd like to have, there's been no time for reading this week's "assignment." I was planning to review Beloit Poetry Journal for today's post, but instead I got the flu and made a cake that looks like Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night. Not simultaneously, of course. But you'll have to wait for Tuesday's post for that story.

Fortunately enough, I had reviewed Beloit's publications before for my publishing practicum back in 2006. From what I remember, it was an odd little magazine heavy on the more experimental poetry. It was full of work that appeared to be trying too hard to be poetry instead of being a good read. Funny enough, it's still considered a decent publication to be accepted by.

In short, some of my poems that came off "too abstract" might be a good fit. But do I really want that to be the case? Or would I rather have some pride in my work and keep revising those particular poems to make them a good fit in a regular journal? And as for those few gems I'm most proud of, are they publishable by Beloit?

I really hope not.

I'm willing to give the journal another chance since it's hardly fair to judge it based on the brief encounter I had with it nearly 4 years ago. I'll review the newer archives and reassess next week.

It appears I underestimated your stupidity.

This post may not be as sparklingly brilliant as some of my previous work because this week's blog is sponsored in part by the plague that I've been cursed with since Saturday night. And even though I've been waking up with a fever and dreams of Joss Whedon informing me that my destiny is to slay purses because they were sewn with evil thread...I haven't seen my doctor in over a year because she's a freaktard who moved her office and didn't leave a forwarding phone number. So that brings us to today's topic: people who are working jobs they really shouldn't.

I've had my share of experiences with these people of late. Saturday at The Times Grill I was supposed to be meeting some of my friends from the Mommy Meetup group. When I went to get our table, I simply informed the hostess that we would have 3 but a couple more might show up.

With a horrified look as if I had just asked her to do calculus on the back of a napkin, she asked me in a very cross tone "Ohhhkaaay, how many is a couple?" I really and truly tried to keep it in, but the snark must have been visibly coming out of my mouth before I realized it because the second hostess started snickering as I answered, quite honestly and harshly, "Two."

And this wasn't my first encounter with Hostess Von Smartenpants. The last time I came with a group she had the same demeanor--which was that of a Popsicle. I even complained about her on a survey. Well her and the server that thought the definition of "server" was to not serve us food and drinks and hang out in the back all night. Luckily, I got a handwritten apology by the owner of the grill and a $10 gift card.

The world needs to send me more of those, especially the woman in line at the Sav-a-Lot who needs to send me a card and a gift certificate for 30 minutes of my life back after trying to abuse the WIC system. Everything she had picked up in her cart was not WIC approved and instead starting over and actually shopping, she just had the cashier go find the RIGHT item. One loaf of freakin bread at a time.

All I wanted was some bananas and Diet Dr. Pepper. Instead I got half an hour of "Whatchu mean that ain't on it? Charles, get me a juicy juice!" and a step closer to a brain aneurysm.

Also, could EVERY babysitter on sittercity.com please send me a sorry I agreed to meet for an interview but then quit emailing you whenever we tried to actually schedule a time because I'm not really interested in working so I just put this profile up so that my husband would think I'm job hunting bouquet? K, thanks.

Today's subject line quote is Dr. Dick Solomon, "3rd Rock from the Sun" (1996) {See Dick Continue to Run: Part 1 (#2.1)}.