By: Ann Brown
Don’t panic, but I have dire news: We’ve been made.
The Neiman Marcus Christmas catalogue is offering a YURT this year. Made out of Sunbrella™, whatever the hell that is, but it sounds like something a top-notch commune would want their yurts to be made out of. (Also, it gives me the opportunity to use the ™ sign, which is my new favorite thing to do in the world.)
My first reaction to hearing about this $75,000.00 yurt was: I have a mole in my blogosphere. A mole who works for Neiman Marcus. And steals my big ideas. And then actually does something about them.
Oh wait. I mean, My Big Ideas.™ There. Now they’re all mine.
Trying to stake claim on an idea is pretty hard, at least legally. I offer as an example that my sister insists she came up with term, “No way, Jose.” She is tenacious on this issue – do not try to cite any facts that question it. Although, and I am just thinking of this now, “No way, Jose” might not be an expression a progressive liberal wants attached to her. I mean, it might carry a modicum of bigotry. Does it presume that if a person’s name is Jose, he will likely do something that he shouldn’t do? That the Joses of the world cannot be left alone to their own good judgment? Karen, I think you should let this one go.
But the yurt? The yurt is MINE. Mine. Mine™.
Oh, don’t talk to me about the Mongols of the Steppes of Asia inventing the yurt. Don’t even. Read your Bible – the yurt is part of Intelligent Design™. Intelligent home design. The Mongols just moved their shit in and got a page in The World Book. No one took the yurt idea and ran with it the way I have, blogging about the commune I am going to start in Sea Ranch, California. Where carbs have no calories. And Casual Sex Fridays means we get to just lie there on the bottom. And everyone works naked in our award-winning fields of heirloom tomatoes and medical marijuana. Yeah, I have big dreams, too. A bong in every pot.
Still, I have to concede that Neiman Marcus’ yurts come fully furnished, which is more than I can offer our commune. I can only offer a couple of Macy’s 20% off coupons that expire next month and some old Ikea dining room chairs I have stored in the garage. You’re gonna have to bring most of your own shit.
So I think I am going to do something radical. Because when NM occupies yurts, it’s time for me to put down the bong and run the freak flag back up the pole.
Therefore, yurts are out. Ptooey. Let the Neiman Marcus rich fuck commune have them. We are going to choose a new, super radical way to live. Treehouses, maybe. Or wickiups. No, wait, I’ve got it: treehouse wickiups! But on the ground. Because I don’t want to have to do stairs. And not circular, because I have some nice art I’d like to hang on walls. And air conditioned because, frankly, I am prone to heat rashes. In areas that are decidedly not communal.
Except on Fridays.