I Smell Dead People

“Work cubicles are nothing more than coffins with training wheels.”
Douglas Coupland

OK, yes—that is quite an attention-grabbing headline. And morbid. And gross. But let me explain…

I work in an industrial park. And flanking the building where my lovely cubicle resides is a building that incinerates medical waste. We are talking stench from hell, people. Indescribably bad. And down the way a bit further in the industrial park (oxymoron if I ever heard one) is—and I am not kidding—a casket making company.

Can you imagine coming up with taglines for them?

“Think outside the box.” For the businessman or woman.

“Keep the worms out.” For the practical with a sense of warped humor.

“The eternal seal of love—in luxurious mahogany or economical pine.” To appeal to all budgets.

“Because burning your loved ones remains will ensure that their soul will burn in hell.” For The Evangelist Anti-Cremation League.

Sooooooooooo...between the dead human tissue (or surgical excess material) burning factory next door and the coffinmaker neighbors a few buildings away, it is a bit difficult to miss the constant reminders and metaphors of life and death as I pull up five days a week to proofread ad circulars that are primarily read by people who are pretty high on the Reaper’s list as it is. Since I have not personally known anyone under seventy to read these circulars, besides me of course. However, since I am getting paid for it, I figure that’s OK.

I do yearn for the day I can trade fluorescent lighting for the sun (hopefully my boss isn’t reading this or he may decide to make that dream a reality before I can get outta debt). I also ache for the day I can trade fresh air for the recirculated kind. And hopefully I will not be buried in a field somewhere before that day arrives. Again with the morbidity. I suppose sometimes our Technicolor skies go gray or blank and we must grab the crayons.

At any rate, January thus far has been a quiet, snowy month filled with a raging bout of the flu that knocked me around a bit and a few interesting dating episodes that, suffice it to say, were pretty much less satisfying than the flu. But ever one to learn from the lessons the universe hands me with a smirk, I am seeing it all as just a rocky start to what will otherwise be a kickass year. Dead people stench and all.

How’s that for the ultimate silver lining, eh? Six feet above for now and realizing that not every day has to be filled with fireworks. And that’s OK, really. After all, the flu is not terminal and I am not going to be casket shopping anytime soon. Crayolas…here I come!

P.S. Lipstick and Thongs continues to make its way further and wider into the world and for that and for all who keep helping spread the lipstick and the love I have a special place in my ever expanding pink heart. You give me the heartwings (Can you hear the gentle strains of Bette Midler?) I need to keep on with the journey even when I misplace or break or inadvertently leave my crayons to melt in the winter sun.

Pink peace, peeps.
Thongaliciously yours.

www.lipstickandthongbook.com

Still woohooin', still rockin ON!