Although I’ve taken serious measures in my kids’ music education
I am encountering a high degree of immense frustration
Not liking Led Zeppelin is simply not an option
They simply transcend personal opinion
Jim Morrison is another case in point
Where my six year old’s reaction was designed to disappoint
His music tastes seem more to lie
Somewhere around nineteen eighty nine

My team is going off for an extended creative lunch
I am struggling to repress the uneasy hunch
That it will once again be postponed
Or despite a collective saddened moan
We’ll have to come back before going home
I will not entertain such a gloomy outlook
I’m going to call the restaurant to book
A table for 5 and if we get out of here alive
Then we’ll order a round of Tequila or two
Bugger! I knew it was too good to be true!
I’ve just been told not to hold my hopes high
That my CD is in all likelihood going to spit in my eye
I’ve asked my team to remain at large
Until I’ve chatted to the man in charge
If lunch is out we’re going on strike
Like every other industry and demand some rights!
Barring that I’ll go postal and do a Columbine
And send the powers that be off to meet with the Divine

I’m off tomorrow morning to another birthday party
With another cake decorated with over a thousand Smarties
And small six year old children running riot everywhere
By ten o’clock I’ll be tearing out my hair
From the sheer effort to make polite conversation
While praying piously for some salvation
It brings to mind my mother who always had a friend
With a child just my age so mature must intend
For us to be best pals and play along just so
When in fact we loathed each other and couldn’t wait to go
You see I am so happy that my son has found a gang
But I cannot comprehend I that would make me want to hang
Out with their parents and try desperately to pretend
That because my son likes theirs we are now best friends
I will hopefully find Teresa who tends to boycott these occasions
And have a clandestine cigarette and plan evasive action

I spent year selling this beloved country
Before I almost committed hari kiri
But the brief hiatus I have been experiencing
Went up in smoke sometime last evening
I’ve received three briefs on the very same issue
All totally different and making reach for a tissue
To wipe away the tears caused by the bubbling swells of hysteria
That threaten to form a Tsunami like disaster area

The outcome of this afternoon’s excursion
Is that we shall undertake a little subversion
Come quarter to one we pack up our stuff
Say not a word and disappear in a puff
Of proverbial smoke to order that Tequila
Or perhaps a frozen strawberry Margarita!

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I write because I have to. It is a compulsion. I do it to vent, to laugh and to remember. I blog because it has been so long since I had to write with a pen that my hand would go into cramp if I tried to write a journal.

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