INTERN is thinking of writing a letter to the USDA advising them to change the food pyramid to reflect the reality of interns and other wild creatures in these troubled times.
Bottom half of pyramid: Cookie crumbs and half-eaten chocolate bunnies (seasonal) swept off table after editorial meetings.
Top half of pyramid: Lick-and-stick gum on envelopes and postage stamps. INTERN read somewhere these are 2 calories a pop. INTERN wonders if it is possible to live on envelope-licking—although a truly wise INTERN would simply eat the whole envelope.
Nutritional considerations aside, writers please harken: Every time INTERN has to lick an envelope to send you a decline or request, it takes A YEAR off her tongue's life. At the rate she's going, she will be tongueless by the time she's 25, like that sparrow in the fairy tale. INTERN's heart leaps with spasms of delight when someone's SASE is self-adhesive. Not only are they fun to stick, the INTERN uses those strips of paper to insulate her nest.
Now that Matters of the Tongue are dealt with, INTERN would like to close with an inspirational message, something along the lines of "dream big". Somewhere out there, there is an intern waiting to paw through your submission, and she would rather deal with big dreams than little schemes. For example, why doesn't someone write a field guide to bicycle racks? They come in so many different shapes and colors. Like creatures of Galapagos. A field guide to bicycle racks is THE INTERN's dream submission.
INTERN full of whimsy. Must find some way of thinking sober, substantial thoughts.
Off to mail book catalogues to prison inmates!