Ever notice how it's the little things in life that amuse us so much? More to the point, ever notice how it's the silly little idiocies in life that amuse us more than anything else? Well, this is not as much ''the little blog that could'' as it is ''the blog that enjoys going up the down escalator in your local mall.'' Will it have anything of real importance? No, probably not. But enjoy the ride never the less!

 
Dante For Dummies

How damned are you? Well, apparently now you can find out, with the all-new online Medieval-based test to see where in (the) hell you're going to wind up. Taking their inspiration from Dante's Divine Comedy, these quiz creators have devised a series of questions to see how much penance you're going to have to suffer in the afterlife. I actually found this quite the enjoyable diversion, especially since it stays pretty faithful to Dante's version of where certain souls would go based on their sins.

Of course, the quick-reference guide to hell you get after taking the quiz could also be used by lazy students who want to buy a Coles Notes book on the Inferno. But I suppose you have to take the good with the bad.

www.4degreez.com/misc/dante-inferno-test.html

(Since I'm still trying to threaten the hyperlink coding to work, and it's calling all my bluffs, you'll have to excuse the lack of click-and-go-there.)

It appears I get to reside in Purgatory when this life is all done & over. I'm willing to bet that stepping on a llama's foot was what got me the boot out of Paradise. You can always trust those pesky llamas to rat you out...


posted by Phillip at 10:40 AM

 
Ominous

It's twenty minutes after eight in the evening. I have consumed half a canister of milk chocolate cake frosting in the past half hour. No good is sure to come of this...
posted by Phillip at 5:26 PM

 
Send in the Hordes!

Ever notice how the more ancient a conqueror was/is, the more overall respect they seem to garner for themselves? Sure everyone has their detractors, but even still I tend to find more positive (and sometimes even romanticised) thoughts regarding some of the older conquerors out there.

For example, I have not really encountered a lot of people who vehemently condemn or argue against the conquests of such well-loved pillagers as the Norse Vikings, the Mongol hordes, or the ancient Greek and Roman armies. Even Alexander the Great is considered a pretty good conqueror, as far as conquerors go.

Compare these to some of the more recent (I hesitate to use the term "modern") conquerors, like Hitler or Napoleon. Or Disney or Bill Gates for that matter. Perhaps I'm picking the examples that tend to get picked on, and this is resulting in a biased view against recent conquerors. Yet many people seem to think Napoleon was a short megalomaniac, whereas Bill Gates is just a nerdy-looking megalomaniac. Disney has a lot of vocal detractors. And Hitler...enough said, simply by saying his name here.

Why is that? Why are the more ancient of conquerors, who were probably and in all likelihood not the nicest of characters, garnering such overall good publicity? Is it because they're so far back in time, we cannot properly understand their vices, so what we're left with are extolling their virtues? Is it because they've somehow procured the greatest historical spin doctors ever? Or is it because they actually succeeded, whereas the ones in more recent history, by many accounts, have failed poorly? This does beg the question of whether or not the line between insanity or genius is drawn by success or failure.

If that is the case, the art of conquest started going downhill around the time of the first Crusades, since the Crusades tend to get lumped into the "Conqueror Bad" listing more often than not. You can't help but wonder if somewhere out there, the Khans are staring down at such warlording empires as Microsoft, and indignantly snorting, "Idiots."

Today's Lesson: perhaps the old ways are better; 1,000 large sweaty guys on horseback with large, pointy swords can't be wrong!
posted by Phillip at 4:48 PM

 
1 + 3 = 5

Today makes it official and final. I'm a graduate.

After 5 years of Bible College (I'll pause for a moment to let many of you either make audible gasps of surprise, or arc your eyebrows in curiosity), I have earned a degree of Bachelor of Religious Education. I can't exactly say that my feelings right now, while naturally a mixture of relief and euphoria, are along the lines of, "Yay, I'm done!" I don't even feel like going, "On with the rest of my life now!"

My thoughts right now on graduating? About bloody time.

I originally attended Emmanuel Bible College for a 1-year program. I graduated from that (which makes me technically a double graduate), and then decided to further pursue the 3-year B.R.E. degree. However, life being what it is, I was required to stretch out my courses over a few extra years. So instead of finishing my B.R.E. in three years (with my 1-year certificate counting as one of those years), it has taken a respective 5 years to come to completion.

While I can gripe about the time I took to get this all done, I cannot complain about what I'm taking away with me now. I've gained wisdom & insight, found illumination, faced my demons in the dark (and most importantly: won), and stumbled across a number of invaluable friends I do not intend to lose track of for the remainder of my life. Most of all, I've learned that for all the knowledge I have, or even think that I have, I've barely scratched the surface.

It's a humbling thing when you come face to face with your own arrogance and ignorance, and realise how lacking you truly are. I can only hope I do not take such encounters for granted, as they have both bolstered my confidence and cut my rampaging ego down quite a few notches. Humility is always an honourable thing. For that matter, so is clean underwear.

I want to spend the rest of my life learning. Not necessarily theology alone, but of all things. I can learn from the books I read. I can learn from the courses I take, and the issues I study. I can learn from my humility. I can learn from my mistakes. I can learn from my ambitions and dreams. I can learn from my disappointments. I can learn from my friends. I can learn from God. And best of all, I can take all of these and strive to become a wholly better person.

So if you need me, I'll be upstairs listening to The Cure's "Friday I'm In Love", and drinking a Malibu Rum & Coke, and thinking that while I've just closed an important chapter in the story that is my life, there's still a lot that has yet to be written. In which case, I had better get up off my ass and start writing it.

Ja.

Today's Lesson: "Gold from Egypt is still gold." --St. Augustine. (which is to say, truth is truth, no matter where you find it, even if it's come from the most unlikely, strangest, seemingly contrary or darkest of places)

posted by Phillip at 6:47 PM

 
Can't Sleep, Chairs Will Eat Me

In what is either a peculiar coincidence or someone having a deranged sense of humour, today I was attacked by a patio chair as I tried to sit out in the backyard and read a book on Jack the Ripper. The weather was quite beautiful--warm, sunny blue skies--and I figured why not read Patricia Cornwall's book "Jack the Ripper: Case Closed" outside, where I could also let the 4 Shih-tzu puppies run around under my watchful eye.

Being someone who needs to be able to stretch out their legs when they read, I stacked 2 patio chairs with the intent of sitting on one and using the other as a footrest. I carried these into the middle of the yard, and there came the horror. Bear in mind, these are moulded, plastic chairs with armrests that have not had all their scratchy edges smoothed off. I rather foolishly carried the chairs by gripping either side of the seat, instead of gripping the armrests.

I set the stack down and, still gripping the seat of the upper one, tried to shake them apart. This proved troublesome, as the patio chairs had decided they'd rather be siamese twins and blatantly refused to bend to my will. I therefore lifted them higher off the ground and gave a mighty shake. The chairs separated, and gravity yanked the lower patio chair downwards.

This proved troublesome, since my hands were gripping the seat of the top chair, and the armrests of the lower chair came dropping down and tore across them during the descent. Fortunately, I got off with having lost only a few patches of skin off the back of each hand. Unfortunately, every single nerve ending I had on those patches of skin are screaming vile obscenities and letting me experience very unpleasant, painful sensations.

So currently I nurse two somewhat scarred hands, and a bruised ego at thinking how in a war between a patio chair and myself, the patio chair came out the notable winner. And very little reading was accomplished in the end. It's hard to turn the pages without getting blood and some other sorts of leaky fluids dripping onto them.

Today's Lesson: some species of patio chairs may in fact be carnivorous.
posted by Phillip at 2:46 PM

 
Today's Lesson: There are quotes that can make people famous in the long span of history. Somehow I do not see "Holy crap, he just kicked that squirrel in the nuts!" as being one one them.




posted by Phillip at 5:47 PM

 
Non-Sequitur

I currently have the song Pop Goes The World by Men Without Hats stuck in my head, and much like belly button lint, it's refusing to go away and leave me alone. This unto itself does not worry me. The fact that I've been bopping in my chair along to the song for roughly 3 hours now is what's got me concerned...

Alternately, it's been two and a half days since I received a large, solid milk chocolate bunny. There is roughly 1/10th of the chocolate rabbit left. Usually such a rabbit would have been rendered extinct and digested within 24 hours, maybe going into 48 hours. This leftover 1/10th has me wondering if I'm slowing down in my old age (whatever age I might be, since I've once again forgotten if I'm 24 or 25). There was a time that I could have gorged myself on that chocolate rabbit in an afternoon and not thought anything of it. Things do slow down as one grows older, and I suppose this is simply one of those signs.

When I start prattling on about how in my days, we had to walk buck-naked for two days, uphill, against the blistering cold snow, and carrying all 12 of our younger siblings and their tubas for band practice, in order just to look at a chocolate bunny through the store window...then you should consider smacking my upside the back of the head.

Just giving the world a heads-up.


posted by Phillip at 11:24 AM

 
Warning: May Contain Primates

It's Easter weekend once again, and you all know what that means. Yep, it's the third-most-valid excuse for family members to gather together to eat lots of food. (The two most valid excuses for this being Commercialmas and Thanksgiving). Happily for me, this did not happen, as while I'm a fan of family gatherings, I'm the type of person who will nibble and munch on many small meals throughout the day, as opposed to gorging myself on 2-3 meals only. And today there was no gathering in my neck of the woods (well, as tree-covered as the suburbs get), so I've been delighting in my small grazing sessions.

Melissa, my fiancee, however, expressed her disbelief that my natural nibbler inclination have somehow affected (or infected) her, and she spent her Easter family gathering slowly gorging herself over the course of the entire day. In fact, when we were talking to each other across country divisions, she said she was munching on something right then.

Intrigued, I asked what she was currently munching on. The conversation that follows is pretty much word-for-word:

Mel: "Monkey Bread and crackers/dip."

Me: "Ne'er had monkey bread before. What part of the monkey is it made from?"

At this point, Melissa informed that Money Bread is basically like a cinnamon roll, but in smaller pieces. This perplexes me. Why not call them something along the lines of "Little Cinnarolls" then? Why include "Monkey" in the name of the product when there is no monkey in the food? Is this false advertising at its greatest, or did someone long ago have a keen albeit dertanged sense of humour, and arbitrarily name this article of food after a furry mammal?

This does bring to mind the question of whether or not hotdogs originally were, in fact, made of dogs. Say the daschund, who tends to resemble a hotdog weiner anyways. Now is probably a good time for me to end this entry before I get dog lovers the world over on my case...

Today's Lesson: Monkey Bread is not made from monkeys.


posted by Phillip at 3:29 PM

 
Yay.

Well, after a little bit of Frankensteining my laptop, I've managed to at least have a working screen to see what I'm doing. Granted it's not the laptop's actual screen (since that's still on Hazy White Screen Of Death mode), but hooking up another monitor certainly helps in the short-term.

I can write again! Much rejoicing! Much rum! Much ado about something!

posted by Phillip at 6:36 PM

 
I'm Sorry, The Computer Does Not Like You Molesting Its Functions...

Yesterday was a Malibu Rum Night, which is to say that while drinking was had, it was not exactly a full-blown Rum Night. Sort of like a Rum-Lite Night, or a Caffeine-Free Rum Night. Though tonight I'm sorely tempted to make it a flat out Tequila Night.

You see, yesterday also happened to see my laptop once again decide to fustigate itself (yes, fustigate is an actual word found in your local thesaurus) and now all I see on my screen is the Hazy White Screen Of Death. I took it with me--in its special carry case--for a few errands in the hopes of using it later at a friend's house, and this is how the laptop repays me for the field trip. I haven't been able to write all day, and with not much else to do aside from read and brush Shih-tzu's, I'm starting to get rather twitchy.

The short of it is the wiring connecting hard drive to screen got twisted in wrong ways, and so the proper connection isn't to be found. Like old wires for headphones giving off static in your ears, depending on how you play with them. So while my laptop works fine, I can't see a damned thing I'm doing. Though I'm not too panicky; this has happened before, I regret to say, and last time the screen decided to suddenly work a few days later. Worse comes to worse, I hook up a regular PC monitor to my laptop and use that as my eyes. If my files found exclusively on the laptop are rescued before anything else goes to crap, then I'll be able to find a silver lining in the cloud.

If not...it's probably a good idea to deny ever having known me when I make the evening news (and not necessarily in that good humanitarian-story-of-the-week way).

I love my laptop. I think it makes for a great portable computer. Too bad I can't seem to take it anywhere without something going wrong.

Today's Lesson: Fustigate is my new favourite word of the day!

posted by Phillip at 5:46 PM

 
Hear & There

Ever notice how when you're trying to speak another language, you develop your listening skills faster than your talking skills? A shame that when we speak to people in the same language as ours, we tend to forget about that whole, pesky "listening" thing and focus only on the talking (usually our own talking).

No particular event heralded this peculiar little insight, incidentally. It's just something I realised I hadn't before considered until today.

posted by Phillip at 1:59 PM

 
"You know what I hate about porn, Mister Anderson? It's the smell..."

When I first saw The Matrix (and I'm proud to have been among the first to see it before everyone else insisted I see it), I asked myself: "Damn! Could those leather pants Trinity's wearing get any tighter?" Well, apparently the answer is "Yes", as anyone who has watched the latest Matrix Reloaded trailer can attest to.

All of you who have not yet seen the trailer (yes, all three of you) should procede to here without further delay and watch it:

http://whatisthematrix.warnerbros.com/

I'm sure someone out there who has seen The Matrix will laugh and scoff at the idea that machines will ever get intelligent enough to subjugate humanity. However, I'd like to offer a caveat, and it's name is "porn spam." I am coming to firmly believe that porn spam is evolving and will in due time conquer humanity unless it's stopped.

My Email Inbox has been violated by, at any given time (and I check my account about 3 or 4 times a day), anywhere from 7 to 27 spam Emails, and most of those are porn related. There was a time, not even four or five months ago, when it was pretty easy to spot porn spam. The Email address under the "From/Name" was an obvious spam account, and the messages tended to be outright blatant. Like:

"Grow your penis size!" (What is it, a chia pet?)

or "Wild Lesbians!" (which I cannot indulge in watching or enjoying, as I love breathing and have a fiance who owns a whip)

or "Fun with Goats!" (This earned a "Whaaa?" award of the day from me)

Now, however, those crafty porn spams are showing signs of intelligence. They are evolving. I get plagued with a deluge of seemingly benign Emails from people like "Lisa" and "Bob Sam" and "Pammy." And the subject headings they give me are also seemingly benign, like "She's pregnant!" or "Have You Heard?" or "New ways to get dental coverage!!!"

I kid you not, that last one was a porn spam cleverly disguising itself as a regular piece of spam. Is there no limit to the evil?!

It's getting to the point where I really can't trust any incoming Email unless it's from someone I know, or the subject heading pertains to something of note or value to my world. In the meantime, I sit in my chair and worry that one day, porn spams are going to get so intelligent we will not even know what they are until they seize our computers and turn them into porn spam servers. Then they will beam hypnotic Email messages into every user's homes, and just like in The Matrix, we will be trapped.

Of course, given how this is porn spam, I'm suddenly terrified to think of what the Agents might look like or be wearing.

At the very least, I know that porn spam has not evolved to a point that requires flat-out-sheer-screaming-mad panic. You see, porn spam has yet to show signs of differentiating between male and female users. As a result I get one porn spam that proudly proclaims, "Lengthen your penis size!" and right beneath that is another porn spam that boldly tells me, "Increase your bust size!"

Now last I checked, I was not so insecure with my body that I felt having larger bosoms might make people think I was somehow sexier. But when the day arrives that I receive no such "I must! I must! I must increase my bust!" spam will be the day that I fear porn spam will be one step closer to ruling the world.

But that's just me ranting.




posted by Phillip at 6:25 PM

 
How Appropriate For The Easter Season

It's a bright sunny morning, and as I write this a small New Zealand dwarf rabbit hops around my chair repeatedly, wiggling his cute little nose and leaving no less than two dozen cute little fecal balls behind it. Is this because the rabbit has been read one too many Grim Bros. fairy tales in the pet store, and now thinks it's Hansel leaving a trail of I-can't-believe-it's-not-breadcrumbs behind it? I don't entirely know, but all I can really say on the matter is that I'm deathly afraid of putting my bare feet down on the ground and feeling more than a few squishy noises beneath them.

This newest addition to the family, dubbed "Baboo" by my father, was the last thing I expected to be greeted with when my parents returned from a shopping trip one afternoon. With 4 Shih-tzu puppies running rampant on a daily basis, you'd think there was enough fur and fuzz to contend with. Yet Baboo was a gift from some friends--the same friends who, incidentally, bestowed upon our family all 4 of the Shih-tzu's (and 2 run-of-the-mill goldfish named Ernie & Bert, who died a day or so after they arrived), which makes me wonder what the next surprise will be.

I personally am hoping for a Bearded Dragon. Bearded dragons are fun.

And I just heard a squishy sound beneath my feet. If you'll excuse me, I need a kleenex and some air freshener for my toes....


posted by Phillip at 7:24 AM

 
The Wives of Bath Don't Live Here Anymore...

I have grown rather concerned as of late about how difficult it's becoming to find a copy of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales in its original Old English text.

The "mainstream" bookstores I've been looking at have all sorts of wonderful new printings on old classics. I've found a copy of Dante's Inferno which has a comparative narrative with the original Italian (at least I think it's Italian) on one page, and a line-for-line English translation on the other page; and at the end of each Canto, there are lots of notes on just who Dante is talking to or about. I also have my eye on a new Beowulf which also has a comparative line-for-line translation of the original language and English. I've also found (but can only pine for until I get my tax refund) a 2-volume boxed set of The Tale of Genji with what looks to be a decent translation and pictures, all wrapped in a Franklin binding style.

This is all very good and all...but what of Chaucer? I've only just recently managed to find a Canterbury Tales with the Old English text, and that was by sheer stroke of luck I happened upon it while out walking. In all honesty, while it does make for a longer than usual read, you can figure out what everyone is saying by just reading the lines outloud. Most of the words are just Old English spellings, and the meanings of the words haven't changed over time even if the spelling has.

I can appreciate the Modern English version for those who'd like to read Chaucer, but get bogged down by the Old English. Even still, that's no excuse for bookstores to have only Modern English copies of Chaucer's work. Please, Sir, this poor bibliophile wants some more.

Oh, and just as a sidenote: it's also bloody hard to find a book that has all 3 parts of Dante's Divine Comedy (The Inferno, Purgatory, and Heaven) included in a single volume. They're all divided up into different $9.99 books these days. I'm seriously contemplating just seizing control of my library's copy of The Divine Comedy, which not only has all three parts, but also includes the hauntingly fantastic (and at times disturbing) lithographs depicting Dante's journey.

Today's Lesson: Second-Hand bookstores are your best friend more often than you'd think.


posted by Phillip at 7:13 AM

 
Boredom: The Mother Of Interior Decorating

Yesterday's horrid it's-not-supposed-to-be-winter-you-dolt! weather left me incredibly twitchy and restless, and more or less trapped at home. I had to do something to keep myself occupied for about 2-3 hours.

Some people in these situations watch TV. Some people read books. Some people cook.

I rearrange furniture.

My room now has a totally new look to it, with my bed moved to the far corner of the room by the window, my TV set and accompanying cabinet up against the wall where the head of my bed used to be, and my computer desk (read: a wooden, fold-up TV table) is now next to my closet. Plus I threw my 40-odd pencil boards back up on the wall, so there's much colour to be had. Overall, the rearranging has given me more floorspace, which the 4 Shih-tzu's seem to already be enjoying.

I'm hoping that by moving my desk away from the window, I'll be able to write more during the day. My eyeballs are oddly sensitive to light (not in the sense that by necessity I need to be nocturnal, but I do seem to have problems focusing when the light intensity is at a certain level), so the further from the window I am, the better off I hope to be.

Ah, boredom! How ironic that I should be thanking it for making me so productive.

posted by Phillip at 10:34 AM

 
Ah, Winter, you crotchety old fart...

It's snowing. Again.

It's horribly, unseasonably cold. Again.

It's beginning to look a lot like February. Again. (How unfortunate it is that it's currently April)

Some people laugh at me or give me odd looks when I give such things as weather phenomena a sort of anthropomorphic personality. In English that means I act as if the rainstorm, or the wind, or the blowing snow, is an actual intelligent force/entity, usually one that conspires against me. Yet I would put forward today's weather as proof that Old Man Winter is in fact a willful if not capricious entity whose sadistic delights in tormenting the general populace (namely, me) should be put to a stop right now.

Either that, or someone should track Winter down and pull the plug on his life-support system.

In any event, the last thing I want to see today is another bunch of skiiers going past whatever window I happen to be sitting in front of. So I've decided to smear my windows with chocolate icing. Not only will it block out the horrible sights of snowflakes being blown helter-skelter, but once spring does come, I can lick of the icing and have not only a treat but a delightful surprise (that being green grass and sunshine) as well! Sort of like a Kinder Surprise if it were built in a Klein Bottle.

Today's Lesson: Snow and Winter are two things better left at the ski slopes, at Christmas, and at the poles.


posted by Phillip at 12:13 PM

 
Sights Better Left Unseen

Nothing says "Whaaaa?" quite like sitting down with a friend in an empty cafeteria, located in the middle of a large university campus, and as you're chatting you suddenly see half a dozen skiers pass by the windows.

I can only guess that with all the snow we got hit with in Kitchener having frozen over, it's created the perfect gliding surface for cross-country skiers. Even still, it's a little odd and pretty damned creepy to see skiers going past cafeteria windows when you are nowhere near a ski hill, a chalet or ground that has any sort of real slope to it.

Though I admittedly would have panicked had I seen reindeer prancing about after the skiiers. Reindeer are, after all, the handy-dandy substitutes for any of the 4 horses of the Apocalypse.
posted by Phillip at 6:43 PM

 
Hypothetically Speaking (or, "You Wrote WHAT To Neil Gaiman?!")

Dear Mr. Gaiman,

I have been a fan of your works now for respectively 3-4 years, and seeing as how you are considered by many, myself included, to be such an insightful and respected author (though if for some reason you are in fact not, you certainly have one of the most impressive publicists the world has ever seen, and that unto itself is a compliment, though probably more for the publicist) of things both of the real world and of the somewhat surreal, perhaps you can help me in puzzling out a conundrum.

It’s all a hypothetical conundrum, of course, since these sorts of things simply do not happen in the “modern and civilised” world, and we would not want to lead the gentle public into believing such farcical, faerie things. It just would not do! And imagine the lawsuits it might garner for false advertising and/or misrepresentation of the real world. I shudder to think! (Though only regarding the lawsuits; I’m actually quite fond of thinking as whole, you must realise.)

Now again, this is all hypothetical, you must understand. What would you say if, hypothetically, I were to wake up early one morning to the most peculiar of noises coming from my backyard, which incidentally has a very nice hypothetical wooden fence, a rather elegant, hypothetical birdbath made from some sort of greyish stone, and a well-manicured hypothetical lawn.

If we were to suppose that I crawled out from my nice warm bedsheets and stared out my window, what would you say if, hypothetically of course, I discovered that my wonderful birdbath had been taken over, infested if you will, by pixies.

Now I would not be entirely sure if they were, hypothetically, pixies or instead some other form of small, winged faerie-creature, but they would seem to be generating a fair amount of hypothetical noise, what with their splashing and water games and all that hypothetical pixie nonsense.

So here we come to the crux of the conundrum, good Sir. Hypothetically, I would not necessarily want to have to explain the hypothetical commotion to any neighbours, as they would think that I had lost my hypothetical mind. So, how exactly would one go about ridding oneself of pixies frolicking in a hypothetical birdbath, where they are certainly not most welcomed (or even least welcomed, as I’m sure no one would appreciate a rather garrulous tournament of pixie water-volleyball at six in the morning), hypothetically speaking and all?

I thank you for your time, your patience, and any future hypothetical answers you might be willing to give.

Yours,

P.R. Smith (who is, of course, NOT actually trapped in this hypothetical situation, since it’s all hypothetical and naturally could not be real because it is simply too fantastic to be believed)

**
**
FOOTNOTE:

For those of you wondering, Neil Gaiman is the acclaimed author of The Sandman graphic novels, as well as the novels Neverwhere, Stardust and American Gods. He's been an incredible influence on not only the way I write, but in how I try to see the world in general. You can visit his homepage here: http://www.neilgaiman.com/index.asp

And I really have no idea what Mr. Gaiman will think when he reads this, let alone whether or not he will make any sort of response to this. But I had fun with it, and would like to think that I helped make his day a little more surreal than usual--which unto itself is difficult, since this is Neil Gaiman, after all.

(Apologies for no hyperlink to his homepage, as my Little Bit O' Nowhere seems to think I have somehow vexed him mightily, and refuses to post the link so you can simply click and go.)


posted by Phillip at 4:09 PM

 
Where, O Where Has My Little Bit Of Nowhere Gone?

Do any of you recall the remark I made a few days back about the archives telling how I now have a fiance? Well, apparently that little bit of nowhere has gone somewhere, and been rather rude in not bothering to tell me where it went or even why. It did not even have the dignity of sending me a postcard! Oddly enough that little bit of fiance-filled nowhere shows up on my editing page, but on the actual webpage it's been sucked into the middle-of-nowhere-squared.

It irks me. Much irkage is being had right now. I am a veritable fount of irkiness at the moment.

So, here we go: the engagement announcement, take 2!

[3/22/2003 2:08:45 PM]
Matching Bride & Handkerchief....
Fiance.

I've been trying out that word a lot in the past day or two, and discovering that it really sounds and feels different from saying "girlfriend."

Fiance has such a strange, new ring to it. There is an undeniable feeling of taking a new step forward in the hopscotch of life. It's uncharted, not entirely unexpected, and will probably prove to be exciting in any event. I have to say that after seeing and reading of so many failures in relationships, marriages and love these days, I'm not without my concern. Yet I'm not without great optimism and hope in what Melissa and I share together lasting until the ends of our days.

Or until I'm old and senile and forget that I have pants, let alone a wife.

It won't be this week that it all happens. It may not be this month. Heck, it may even take a year or so to pass before the actual ceremony occurs. But this is our commitment to each other, and the promise that one day it will happen. I'm thrilled to know that Melissa wants to wear our engagement ring. Likewise she's thrilled that I opted to not tattoo "Melissa" and "Phillip" in big black letters on each of my thighs.

I'm sure that in the future both Melissa and I will ask ourselves, "Just what did I see in you, and why did I agree to this?" There will be all sorts of fun, wanted and unwanted, as we prepare a wedding and adjust to living together. All these adult things are necessary, and can come in due time. I'll be ready to tackle them.

But for the moment, let me bask in this child-like awe and wonder at what it means to have a fiance.

posted by Phillip at 7:22 AM

 
I Love You, Mr. DeNiro!

Monday's "Rum Day" was postponed to today. Not necessarily because a "Rum Day" was needed today, but because it's always good to finish the things that you intend to start, even if they have to be delayed for a little while. So much rum was had in the company of friends, and there was much rejoicing. Happily there was also not a lot of hommage being paid to the porcelain god, so there's also added reason to rejoice.

Dance, peasants! Dance for me!!


posted by Phillip at 6:55 PM

 
It's Not The Age, It's The Mileage.

Birthdays are meant to be a time of celebration, if not denial at how old we've become since last year. You grow a little bit wiser, and little bit more immature. You discover just how many friends you really have by how many free rounds they buy you, and how evil your friends are depending on how many free rounds they buy you (repeat after me: one tequilla, two tequilla, three tequilla, floor). You bask in the glory of a horde of presents, and then demure and say it's all about the friends.

Today, Melissa (my fiance for those of you just joining this little bit of nowhere, and are too lazy to read the archives) celebrates having survived 22 years of life. This unto itself is impressive since I'm having a damned hard time trying to remember just how old I am.

Come to think of it, I am 23 currently...er, maybe 24...or perhaps I'm 23 after all...um, can I buy a vowel, Vanna?

But back to my wonderful Mel. I honestly wish that your 22 years could have been much, much better, and that today would be cause for you to sit back and laugh yourself silly amongst good friends and family. Alas, I doubt there will be much cause for festive celebration. Even still, know this: if it hadn't been for those 22 years, I wouldn't have a beautiful fiance to drive people to insanity from raving about you night & day (with just a little break around tea-time).

So let it be known around the world that Melissa's birthday is today, and may as many glasses as possible over the course of tonight be raised in her honour. May there be fond memories, best wishes, and a plentitude of "Cheers!" without the next-day hangovers or yarfing.

Happy birthday, Melissa. I love you!


And in other news, I have become most vexed to discover that the nice white shirt I'm currently wearing has some sort of stain or wrinkle that makes my right nipple very obvious. It's a rather difficult thing to describe, save for that my nipples should not be so obvious when I'm wearing this shirt, but for some reason I can suddenly see a circular mark of some kind (almost like a round coffee stain) that is directly over my right nipple and the surrounding areola. It's very blatant, and making me rather paranoid that I'm going to offend someone by showing off my right nipple.

I still remain boggled at how such a thing could happen. Did I sweat too much when I last wore it, specifically around the right nipple? Did the shirt just get wrinkled in a way that makes me believe that God really does have a deranged sense of humour? I don't think I'll ever know the answer, and perhaps there are some things that humanity just is not meant to know....


posted by Phillip at 3:10 PM

 
April 1st: A Day Set Aside For Idiots.

In keeping with the day's fine tradition of pulling legs and yanking out leg hair, I feel the need to air a few things off my chest.

I am the illegitimate child of Brittney Spears and David Arquette. I've also sworn off world domination, have shaved my head and also convered to Buddhism (though I'm still deliberating between Mahayana or Zen). I am in fact a Tolkein-loving, midget porn star who goes by the name of Bilboner Bag'ems. I'm not wearing any pants right now. This morning for breakfast, I drank the spit of a herd of zebras, and then washed it down with a gallon of sawdust & milk. In a previous life I was one of the elephants Hannibal used to cross the mighty Alps. I am a card-carrying Communist (though does it matter if the card in question is a library card?). And I have been tapped to write the screenplay for Hollywood's upcoming blockbuster: Titanic 2, Sink Harder.

Only one of those statements were true. Sadly, it's the one about me not wearing any pants....


posted by Phillip at 6:23 PM