Here is song #9 for November 9. Background for the joke in the last verse: In the song “Toes” when the speaker says “a PBR on the way”—I always thought he meant Professional Bull Riding, not Pabst Blue Ribbon. My dad used to drink Pabst, but until recently I didn’t see people “west of the Rockies” drinking it. Bud, Coors, Miller, Corona, yes, but not PBR! Shows how much I know! Hope you enjoy.
EVERYTHING’S MESSED UP
by Pam Bowen
I stop at the drive-thru speaker and when I hear it squawk,
I tell the guy very clearly exactly what I want.
A number three with Coke, no ice, no onions, curly fries
But when I open up the bag, he didn’t get it right.
I NEVER GET WHAT I ASK FOR.
I NEVER GET WHAT I WANT.
EVERYTHING’S A HASSLE.
EVERYTHING’S MESSED UP.
I stop at the hillside turn-out where lovers always park.
The lights down in the valley sparkle through the dark.
I slide my arm around Marie and make my move to kiss her.
She shows me her pepper spray and says, “Hold on, Mister.”
I stop in at the Alco-Hole to get myself a beer.
The Outlaw Band is rockin’ so loud that I can’t hear.
I yell to the barkeep, “I want a large draft PBR,”
But when I look, he’s brought me a rodeo brochure.
Maybe someday I’ll learn to like the things I get,
But at this point the odds are stacked against that bet.
© Pamella M. Bowen