327 Market

I am working tomorrow

I have a four hour gig with an unmentionable Massive Corporation. I am going to be tutoring their brats on the joys of product marketing. I am so amused, since product marketing is one of my fortes. After talking to the manager, I found out that all I have to do is crowd control. You'd think this corporation would have that down pat. It should be interesting-- the last time I set toe on their campus I played foosball with one of their engineers. They are attempting to bribe me with free software. Its like the proverbial haircut for Charley Brown. I don't even own a computer.

Had dinner at the Mall with the H-ster.

We got food at my favorite kiosk. The farmer's market brought a lot of color. We sat next to a grimy guru who was discoursing to a hippette about Krishna and the Nature of God. I could smell him over my mole. We also were regalled by the Tuneless Banjo Lady. Her banjo is never tuned and she bangs on it semi-rhythmically. I think she might be tone deaf.

Rejection!

I am going to have to ax the Printed Matter link from my column. The little submarines that I sent over there have come home to roost. Does anyone want a set? It comes in a nifty manilla envelope that textured from a 6,000 mile journey, and real cancelled postage. I haven't had the heart to even open it up. Does someone else want to do it for me?

Go shop at Quimby's