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!

 
"I thought I felt a draft..."

As I was daintily skipping along to the grocery store (though it was a very manly sort of skipping), I found a very disconcerting sight awaiting me on the sidewalk. It would appear that some young lass out there had lost her thong panties. The forlorn underwear just sat there on the cement, wrinkled and abandoned.

This worried me.

Did the owner of the thong realise she had left it behind? Was she feeling an ill chill due to a loss extra of the coverage and padding the thong in theory provides? (Well, as much coverage as virtual butt-floss can offer, anyways.) For that matter, how did she manage to lose it as she was strolling along?

One can only presume she was wearing pants or shorts over her thong when the disappearance occured. Was she learning to be like Houdini, only to make an embarrassing mistake as she demonstrated a trick to her friends? Did the thong simply phase out of reality for a moment, long enough for her to walk on by and leave its out-of-phase cottony self behind? Did she and the thong have some sort of falling out, possibly an argument over a wedgie being given, and they stormed off in opposing directions, and the thong suddenly realised it was lost and had no idea where else to go?

Or perhaps she was abducted by aliens, and the thong was all they left behind.

I cannot help but wonder and theorise as to why the thong panties were there upon the sidewalk. What really happened? The world may never know....

Today's Lesson: apparently there is no such thing as a "manly" dainty skip, according to my fiancee.


posted by Phillip at 5:29 PM

 
Due to technical difficulties, the end of the world has been postponed...

With a title like that, one might assume I had just finished reading the book Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I almost wish I was....

The original plan had been for a friend and I to see the movie 28 Days Later, a sort-of apocalyptic zombiesque thriller. As usual, despite the large Sunday night crowds, everything was going as perfect as one could hope for. Despite the daunting lines, we practically waltzed in and got our tickets. Despite the already crowded theatre, we found a pair of vacant seats practically in the very middle, giving us the best possible vantage point.

We were excited, exchanging witty, wry banter amidst the "were they on crack when the conceived these?!" Snapples fruit drink commercials. And then came the dreaded Black Screen Of Death. It is the terrifying, cimenatic cousin of the computer Blue Screen O' Death. The empty screen just towered over everyone, as if to proclaim, "You theatre-goers have performed an illegal operation, and the end of the world must now shut down."

Sadly, I must grudgingly accept the fact that in order to watch a movie, you need a working projector.

I'm sure the projectionist was doing the best he could; the flames sparking out from the projection booth window, and the cries of "I told you that we'd get punished for watching Battlefield Earth and liking it!", seemed to be fairly optimistic.

The public relations regarding the whole snafu could have been handled a little better. Waiting around for roughly 40 minutes and having a total of only 2 announcements telling scant details of the problems did not make for a happy lynch mob. Then again, as the ticket-paying natives grew more and more restless (someone tried beating their friend with a rolled-up Tribute magazine to combat the boredom), I'm sure the theatre employees were playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors" to see which unlucky sot would have to be sacrificed by facing the horde and telling them the bad news.

My friend and I were ready to start a betting pool on whether or not said employee would be able to escape the angry charge as the front row rushed the poor guy as he made a frantic break for the side exits. Yet life did not imitate art in that whole "ripping-of-flesh-and-eating-it" sort of way, which is just as well since no one had the presence of mind to bring enough barbeque sauce for everyone there.

So, there was no end of the world tonight. I should be in the theatre right now exclaiming how I've gone and soiled my pants again. But instead I'm telling a bunch of people how I wish I could be exclaiming how I'd gone and soiled myself again. But on the bright side, I walked out with 2 free movie passes, as did my friend.

Ah, silver linings; how I adore thee....

Today's Lesson: apparently Snapple bottles, when not being filled with tasty, liquid Vitamin-C goodness, moonlight as male strippers.


posted by Phillip at 6:37 PM

 
I've Got Some Skin Cream That Can Clear That Right Up!

Friends of mine recently received the Nightmare on Elm Street DVD box set on loan from friends of theirs. Having seen only two of the movies in this iconic horror series years upon years ago, I decided to start perusing them all. For all two of you out there who have no idea what the premise is, here's a basic idea: Freddy Kruger, a man with very a bad fashion sense who will never become a spokesmodel for Maybelline Cosmetics, chases hapless teenagers around in their dreams and kills them.

Think of a homicidal Martha Stewart (which, given her current woes, may not be a stretch to envision) who's taken a bunch of knives from one of her dining room sets and taped them to her fingers.

After watching the first and third installment of the Nightmare franchise, I must confess it's amazing to sit back and think: "So this is what it's like to ask myself 'why did I ever think this was cool?'" All in all, I was not very impressed. Even a little blase by the end. Perhaps it's because I'm much older and not as easily frightened as I once was. Perhaps it's because I'm jaded from all the other movies I have seen. Perhaps it's because what was such a landmark way back when has become so mainstream it's lost its impact and fear effect.

Or it could in part be that the Nightmare movies aren't all that great.

Small budgets aside, the acting's only half-decent most of the time, and the scripts tend to leave a lot to be desired. Besides, you can only see someone filetted so many times before it gets rather tedious and redundant. There is no real fear to be experienced. You know what's going to happen from the outset. You know the evil/villainous being. You know what's going to happen to everyone, even if it's only in a basic sense without and of the details filled in.

Not knowing is what makes any sort of scary movie worthwhile. Never seeing right away what ominous force is at work is what delivers the best shiver up and down the spine. Being uncertain of what fate awaits everyone else, and never quite knowing when that end is coming or how it will come, makes the shiver an impressive thing. H.P. Lovecraft was right when he once wrote, "The greatest and most powerful emotion of mankind is fear. And the greatest fear is the fear of the unknown."

Although, sometimes an even greater terror can come from knowing too much. For example, I can strike fear into the hearts of almost everyone reading this by stating this simple fact: I'm not wearing any pants right now.

Feel free to scream in terror at your leisure.

Today's Lesson: There are apparently many subtle gradients between alive and dead. Such as: alive; dead, not-quite-dead-yet; undead; sort-of-dead; "dead" dead; living dead; and the ever famous "pining for the fjords" dead.



posted by Phillip at 1:36 PM

 
"A winner is me!"

Through a curious quirk of fate, I have discovered that sometimes it's not what you know, or even what you can fake, but it indeed is who you know. With it more or less being clinched, I am delighted, if not somewhat bewildered to say that I get to be in a feature film that's being shot locally in Kitchener-Waterloo, and parts of Mississauga.

The movie, which is still going through title changes and is currently referred to as Regrets, is a vampire flick, and a sequel to another vampire movie that was shot in the KW area last year. Same cast and crew this time around too. This is where that whole "who you know" thing comes in. The shooting for the first movie took place in one of the bars my good friend and lovable heretic, John, frequents: Club Abstract.

They needed extras for some of the interior shots, which were all being filmed in the afternoon, so John joined in on the fun. Not to mention he's also an Abstractian regular there known by all the bouncers and staff (but in a good way). So John spent roughly 6 hours sitting at a table, drinking orange juice. Why no real alcohol? Well, John might be Irish, but even he couldn't survive 6 hours of straight beer-drinking. Since John had a very distinct look about him, especially with his very long and very naturally curly hair, the director and producers kept in contact with him. And lo and behold, when casting for the sequel was underway, they wanted him to play an Irish priest.

Now I was by no means jealous that John was in a movie and I wasn't. I was more amused that the man practically is an Irish priest, just without the whole ordained thing. But not too long ago, I get a call from him late at night. The conversation went along these lines:

John: "Phil! Sorry to call you this late at night, but I have to ask: are you free tomorrow night?"

Me: "Not doing much of anything then. Why?"

John: "Oh, thank God! The director needed some extra dancers for a scene, and asked if I knew anyone who could help out. We're in desperate need of someone, and you were all I could think of. Want to be a dancer in the movie?"

Me: "Um...what sort of dancing? You know that whenever I try to dance, people claw at their eyes and flee the room."

John: "Oh, I don't know, 17th century dancing or something. We get to fake a waltz of some kind."

Me: ^-^ "Faking a waltz? Now that I can do! Count me in!"

So, I'm a dancer who gets to be in a 17th Century European court. Somehow I've miraculously managed to get 3/4ths of all the moves down thus far and make it look good. The other 1/4th I'm faking superbly, so it's all good.

Now believe me, I was more than content to just be a dancer. I mean, come on! This is all volunteer acting work (from the leads all the way down to the extras), but it's so fun to do, and what are the odds something as unique as this will come my way ever again? (Plus I may get my own codpiece) Me being friendly, I told the director that if she needed anything else from me, I would be happy to help out.

I guess she took my friendly gesture seriously, since now I'm a vamp for the final fight scene. It does work well, since I have somy gymnastics background and can do a few tumbling acts that would otherwise take months of training for anyone else to make look as natural.

Here's the part I still find vastly amusing: I am what's being called a "Disposable Vamp". Disposable Vamps have a life expectancy of 10-15 seconds. Like one of those Red Shit guys in Stark Trek. So, I get to die. And oddly enough, that is what has me more excited than anything else. All my Disposable Vamp comrades are all, "Yeah! Cool! I get to be a vampire!" And here I am going, "Yeah! Cool! I get to have my ass kicked and then I get staked!"

*shrug!* Go figure.

Filming starts in roughly 2 weeks, and I think it kicks off with all the interior club scenes and fight choreography. So July's going to be an interesting month for me. I get to die. I get to dance. I may just get my very own codpiece. A winner is me!


Today's Discovery: for all you Jim Henson buffs out there, if you listen to the song Trip Like I Do from Crystal Method, right at the start you can hear someone retelling the opening monologue from The Dark Crystal.


posted by Phillip at 6:46 AM

 
The Future At The End Of The World

I have held my future in my hands.

Tangibly, physically held it in my hands.

From here on in, everything may very well change in one way or another. It’s a little disconcerting to see your future all packaged up and sitting neatly in a box with a New York address scrawled across it and listed as its point of destination.

Do I honestly know what’s going to happen from here on in? Sadly, no. I have the highest aspirations and darkest doubts about holding my future in my hands. Especially when I consider that it’s about to rest in someone else’s hands, that someone else is going to not so subtly determine the shape and course of my life

Some people will say that the future is what we make of it, that our choices determine our fate. Some people will say that the future has already been determined, and we are simply going through the motions of making this certainty come to pass. Albert Einstein once said, “I don’t think a lot about the future. It comes soon enough.”

Some people are wholly dark and pessimistic about what the future may hold. Some people are filled with vibrant hope at thinking about what the future might have in store for them, and for us all.

I can’t say I’ve got a hope best described as “vibrant”, but I do have hope. I have held the future in my hands, and I think it doesn’t look too bad after all. What remains is for one or two very specific people, and then later on many, many other people, to agree with me.

In the meantime, I have another future to plan around the one that now rests in another’s hands. Sooner or later, though hopefully sooner, they both will entwine and become a single entity. Looking towards the future can be a simple task, and sometimes also a very aggravating one. I’m almost done with the looking aspect. Now comes the really fun part: working towards that future.

I do not know if it’s going to prove all sunshine or mainly clouded in doubts. But I do know that in the end, it’s going to be worth any and all the effort. So here’s to the future. May it surprise me, and those around me, and may most of those surprises be good, fluffy ones.

Today’s Lesson: my future apparently weighs 1.65 kgs


posted by Phillip at 6:48 AM

 
Sitting On The Lap of Luxury

Well, it’s certainly been some time since this little bit of nowhere was last visited, but I have returned, recovered and am starting to get back to some semblance of organization with my life. It seems a bit of a shame that I get to dust this place off with the following thoughts, however.

I came home to discover that the bathroom was now somehow…different. Certainly it has lost its “White Room” status, but that occurred a week or so ago, when colour was once again embraced.

It took me a moment or two to figure out what exactly was new and not-necessarily-improved. Apparently our toilet was upgraded to some sort of luxury status while I was away. The short of it is: our toilet now has armrests.

From what I’ve gathered, this is meant to help any small kids or disabled people who need to use the facilities. However there are certain problems I must now face when answering the call of nature, instead of letting the machine pick it up.

The quandary lies with the whole sitting deal. For the most part, toilets are meant to be sat upon, and the appearance of these armrests has greatly complicated the whole simplistic procedure. You see, whenever I sit down upon any chair that has armrests, my first impulse is to leisurely rest my arms upon the armrests. “Now wait,” some of you might interject at this point, “that’s sounds a little silly, and all that.”

Indeed it does sound silly that I should in fact use the armrests for what they’re there for…until we get to my second impulse. You see, my second impulse is to then lean back and stretch my legs out as far as they can go (I like leg room in any situation). As you can no doubt imagine, the resulting sitting position is rather disastrous whenever a toilet is involved.

There’s a great chance for…breaking the seal, let’s call it, and that can let loose too many unpleasant things I’d rather not get into right about now, especially since I’ve just tried a new sample breakfast of Corn Flakes and chocolate soy milk, and my stomach’s already quite twitchy.

Back to the armrests, it’s probably right around here that some of you are going, “Well, if using the armrests is proving that difficult, why not simply *not* use them?”

I’ve tried that too, but without much success either. I still feel ill at ease whenever I tuck my arms close to my sides and just try to nonchalantly sit there. It almost makes me feel claustrophobic, having those armrests rising up to flank my sides. Not to mention there’s also the question of what to do with my arms at this juncture. As of late, I’ve just sort of sat there looking like some timid, two year-old kid who’s been stuck in a chair four times too big for him.

My porcelain sanctuary has been altered, and I fear that it will now leave some residual scars upon my poor psyche. Whenever I gaze upon a bathroom toilet, I don’t think I’ll ever be the same. Years down the road it may very well come to a point where, before I enter any household bathroom, I silently ask myself, “Oh no, do I have to deal with armrests again? Please no armrests this time! Oh please oh please oh please!”

Today’s Lesson: Corn Flakes and chocolate soy milk were not meant to go together. I’m guessing it’s the soy….


posted by Phillip at 6:35 AM

 
Experiencing Technical Difficulties, Please Stand By

Today sees me setting off to visit a number of various family members for a few days, so just as a forewarning, this little bit of nowhere might be inactive for a short while.

I would, however, like to say that sometimes life caters exclusively to one's childhood nostalgia. Yesterday as I was idling around in a local second-hand bookstore, I stumbled across the book The Flight of Dragons by Peter Dickenson. Years ago, I repeatedly (read: REPEATEDLY) watched an animated movie by the same name that was based on the book. As a sidenote: if anyone thought James Earl Jones' voice was intimidating before, Darth Vader doesn't even hold a candle to the just-plain-malevolent cackling of Omadon.

Stumbling across a book I thought I'd never find, not to mention was starting to wonder if it even existed at all, was one of those rare treats. I nearly hyper-ventilated in the store. I'm glad I didn't. I'm sure the cashier was happy I didn't either. Managing to procure the necessary funds to purchase the book, I skipped happily home with it. When I sat down in my chair and started reading a few parts of the book, I became nine years old again and marveled at the sheer imagination of the book. Granted, because I'm older I can appreciate a lot of the "scientific" nuances in the book regarding how dragons can fly, why they breathe fire, and so forth, but for all intents and purposes, I was squirming around excitedly in my chair the entire time. The idiotic Cheshire Cat's grin of my face was unmistakeable to anyone who looked at me.

So now I have a tangible memento of one of my most-beloved childhood memories. Happy now.

Today's Lesson: when confronted with the choice of buying either kiwi-scented shampoo, or papaya-scented shampoo, go with the kiwi. The scent is not so overbearing, and doesn't make you smell like someone who fell asleep in one of the storage tubs in a jam factory.


posted by Phillip at 8:23 AM

 
Every Grey Hair Earned....

It's Father's Day. I do certainly love my Dad and am rather happy he is around. After all, if my Dad wasn't here, then I wouldn't be here either. As far as I know I can't just spontaneously exist. Though I'm pretty sure that those pink lawn flamingos have discovered the ability to simply "exist" from nothing. There's one suddenly appearing one instant, you blink, and suddenly your lawn is covered with a whole flock of them.

But I digress.

Admittedly, I'm of two opinions about a day exclusively devoted to recognizing and celebrating Dads around the world. On the one hand, it's good to know that fathers, especially the good ones, get some overt acknowledgement of what they do. Being a parent seems to be a somewhat underappreciated role these days. On the other hand, the commercialization of Father's Day makes me shake my head and wonder just how many more sales on greeting cards, ties, watches and power tools the world can withstand before it implodes.

Anyone who knows about my proposed "I-Sat-Next-To-You-On-The-Bus Day" civic holiday can pretty much understand the cynic in me ranting here.

But back to Dad. I'll openly admit I've got a cool Dad. And strangely enough, one of the things I have come to appreciate the most about him is his complete lack of hesitation to smack me upside the back of the head (sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally) whenever I'm being an ass or an idiot. Or both. If that's the case, I usually get two smacks upside the back of the head. I really do think that's one of the key reasons I actually turned out half-decent and have a good head on my shoulders (despite it being smacked around here and there).

He's given me a sense of discipline and responsibility. He's taught me self-worth, self-reliance (though at a healthy level), and the need to plan ahead for the future, be it in finances or scheduling calendar dates. He's also taught me that under no circumstances should you ever lean over the edge of the roof when you're 6 years old and not attatched to some kind of bungee cord or something to keep your head from cracking on the porch.

So Dad, this one's for you! You have your .5% beer, and I'll have...something alcoholic...anything alcoholic...where's that patron hand to show up and give me a Rye & Coke?

Today's Lesson: no matter what you think at 6 years of age, you cannot defy the laws of gravity


posted by Phillip at 3:19 PM

 
“And Knowing Is (Apparently) Half The Battle…”

Well, the week has come and gone, and I for one am hoping that this next week will find me running around without looking like I’m some chicken that got its head lobbed off. Some of you out there may be asking, if not threatening to break my door down and demanding to know where I have been.

The short of it is, apparently this week I decided to start finding purpose and make a decent attempt at long-range planning for my future. This will also establish a chance at a decent chance to then plan for the future Mel and I shall share. And yes, I do want her to be included in making these plans. At the moment, I’ve been doing my best to make necessary arrangements, so that her arrival here will be as stress-free as possible.

I’m not really in the mood to discuss at length what this week has entailed, simply because it’s all basic planning, and I can only know if I’ve truly succeeded 2-3 weeks down the road. I’d as soon share good news with friends and whatever complete strangers have been directed to this little bit of nowhere. Good news is always much friendlier than high hopes dashed to pieces at a later date…unless it gets you a lot of free sympathy drinks from everyone. Silver lining, silver lining.

Yet I am not about to leave everyone without some words that might be construed as wisdom. So here you go: This Week’s Lessons.

--sometimes determination will get you through the day. Other times, the day winds up sitting on your sheer determination and squishes it, and doesn’t even have the courtesy to notice.

--rabbits are actually quite carnivorous, as the base of my left palm can attest to.

--at random times in your life, you may get a knock on the door and be given by some strange, near-disembodied hand a free can of Root Beer you never even asked for or implied that you wanted. It is thusly counter-productive to argue with the hand.

--Shih-tzu’s get quite excited whenever you make Wookie noises in front of them

--never EVER get a money order from a Canadian bank, unless you enjoy paying the ridiculously high fees for such a transaction. (price of an Age of Majority card: $15. Price the bank charges to get that $15 converted into a money order: $7.50. And I quote myself: “Whaaaa?”)

--I still can’t dance

--a Microsoft Word spellchecker does not recognize ‘manticore’ as being a valid word. Unless, of course, I was trying to spell ‘manicure’ instead.

--people actually seem to wonder, not to mention care, that I’ve seemingly vanished off the face of the planet

--at random times in your life, you may get a knock on the door and be given by some strange, near-disembodied hand a free package of chocolate-covered mint wafers you never even asked for or implied that you wanted. Once again, it is counter-productive to argue with the hand.

--despite being computer-generated, Gollum has given arguably the best victory speech in all of recorded history. (as seen on the MTV 2003 Movie Awards)

--Email Pron-Spam still hasn’t evolved in my online absence, and for that I am truly grateful

--parents have the habit of turning around and completely surprising you. That’s still not necessarily a good thing sometimes….

--when the week is over, nothing relaxes you quite so well as a knock at your door, and some strange, disembodied hand giving you a large Mudslide you never even asked for or implied you wanted. Now is certainly not the time to argue with the hand, and I highly recommend anyone out there to find a patron hand of their own.


posted by Phillip at 4:50 PM

 
"Honestly, Officer, the tree just jumped out all of a sudden and grabbed my willy!"

They call it Dendrophilia: arousal from a tree or fertility worship of them. According to offical statistics, 1% of the world's population are dendrophiliacs, which means that somewhere out there, someone is violating a poor, hapless poplar or spruce tree.

I call it...well, in all honesty, words escape me. Although I can say that the knowledge of someone getting turned on and going, "Oh yeah, you keep growing, you sexy little sapling! Grow until you've got huge branches like the mighty oak, and then you're old enough for me to take you!" is rather vexing. Much vexing is being had right now. It's reasons like this that I believe humanity is ultimately doomed.

Today's Lesson: just because it has holes doesn't mean you should put certain (or any) body parts into it.


posted by Phillip at 5:00 PM

 
"You want me to show you the what in the where now?"

A funny thing happened as I was making some floating enquiries today with a few of the local apartment towers. Nothing substancial regarding the enquiries, at least for the moment, but it's always good to get a feel on the market as you dare to make your great escape into independence...again. Especially important for me is knowing what apartments would accept both me and my Shih-tzu puppy, Shady. We're sort of a 2-for-1 deal. You can't have one without the other, and we go together like bacon and eggs...or else green eggs and ham.

So I call the first phone number on my list of potential apartment complexes. The conversation roughly goes as follows:

Me: "Hello, I would like to make some enquiries about the apartments available in your complex."

Cheerful young lass: [laughter!] "Well, if I actually owned any apartments, I'd be happy to help you out!"

Me: [eyebrow twitch!] "Okaaaaay...I'm guessing this isn't the number for reaching the superintendant's office."

After a brief exchange and banter, I discovered that the number I had copied down from the sign outside the apartment tower was in fact right. The number being displayed on the sign in front of the tower, however, was thoroughly and totally wrong. At this very minute, they might be wondering why no new applicants have been asking about the apartments....

In other news, I have discovered that my new favourite song is the curiously infectious, peculiar yet effective, violin-and-punk Everywhere, performed by the band Yellowcard. You might know this song. Pop singer Michelle Branch recently did a softer cover version of their song. I'll stick with Yellowcard's rendition, thanks.

Today's Lesson: Proofread, proofread, proofread!!!


posted by Phillip at 3:44 PM

 
Tonight's Special Guest Star: Mr. Skullhead

Good idea: having an unexpected knock on your door, and upon opening it you are wordlessly handed a can of Root Beer that you never even asked for or were even remotely expecting. Apparently I did something good to appease the Root Beer gods....

Bad idea: drinking a large Iced Cappuchino from Williams at 10 in the evening. Unless of course, heart palpitations around the midnight hour are considered a good thing where you're from.

Today's Lesson: late-night caffeine is good only for graveyard shifts or 15-page term papers due the next day.


posted by Phillip at 4:53 PM

 
Shades of Eric Clapton

The bathroom is white. Horribly, horribly white. The bathtub is white. The toilet is white. The counter is white. The floor is white. The walls are an off-white with a hint rouge, but that might as well be white. The scale is white. The vanity cabinet is white. The ceiling is white and kind of spackly (if that’s even a word, and if it was, it would be a white word). The shower curtain is white. The garbage can is white. Hell, even the vertical blinds covering the window are white!

Shady, my Shih-tzu, has fur of an off-white colour. She curled up next to the wall while I was in the bathroom, and suddenly I couldn’t see her.

There used to be colour in the bathroom, but apparently everything not white is out for cleaning. Gone is the crimson outer shower curtain. Gone are the red shag bathroom mats. Gone is the cute little green plant sitting inside a disused Tim Horton’s mug. Now the only hint of colour left to be seen is from the plunger, and that’s hiding behind the toilet.

The bathroom now has this fresh, antiseptic hospital feel to it. Either that, or this is some ridiculous literal meaning to seeing things as only black and white. Or in this case, white and off-white.

I hope colour is restored to the bathroom soon. Every time I walk out of there, I feel all celestial and shiny, and it’s a very disconcerting feeling.


Today’s Lesson: ‘spackle’ is a word, while ‘spackly’ is not (at least according to the spell-checker).


posted by Phillip at 6:18 AM

 
The Prosecution Rests, Your Honour...

The Defense: http://www.petoffice.co.jp/catprin/english/#top

The Prosecution: http://www.somethingpositive.net/sp05312003.html


Today's Lesson: it's pretty much self-explanatory here, folks.


posted by Phillip at 3:13 PM

 
King of the Jungle...and the Dust Bunnies

I had a most peculiar dream last night. It involved me discovering the safest bed in the world. It was a bed where you could slip in between the covers, and snooze soundly without ever having to worry about anyone trying to come in and attack you. Why? Well, apparently the safest way to sleep is to have a lion under your bed. Don't ask me the logistics of this, it's a dream, and I don't think it was designed to make sense.

There's this very specific mental image I have of the bed, which resembles one of those futon couches you can convert into beds, and it came with a nice, slick, black metal frame. And underneath it, sleeping soundly, is a lion. I don't know how the lion managed to get crammed under there, let alone find a comfortable position for sleeping. But I still can recall how its hind legs just stuck out from beneath the bed.

What boggles me is how in the dream I considered this a perfect sensible means of home security, and not once did it seem to cross my mind that perhaps the lion, being carnivorous and all, might pose more of a threat to me than any burglars could. Though the lion's hind legs sticking out from the bed looked distinctly animatronic. Maybe that's how I could justify sleeping above one of the most impressive land hunters in the world.

Today's Lesson: apparently, lions don't snore when you dream about them.


posted by Phillip at 2:26 PM

 
Bride of Torso Crackers!!!

A number of you may recall a recent rant involving the dog treats called People Crackers, and how the last box I bought had nothing but broken crackers/body parts. Well, yesterday I purchased another box, and discovered that most of the People Crackers in this new box are either severed heads or decapitated bodies.

This is getting ridiculously morbid.

In other news, my room smells like Cheerios. I don't know why that is, since I ate Corn Flakes today--though not with chocolate milk. This Cheerio-scented conspiracy worries me, since it's been ages since I've even eaten the cereal. To my knowledge, there are no Cheerios in the house. Are the Cheerio gnomes playing tricks with me? Are they trying to subconsciously force me to gorge myself on nothing but Cheerios? Or are the Cheerio gnomes perhaps responsible for beheading all my People Crackers?

The world may never know....

Today's Lesson: when in doubt, blame the gnomes.



posted by Phillip at 8:56 AM

 
The "Whaaaa?!" Link(s) of the Week!

http://www.weirdco.com/mickeymousevibrator.htm

http://www.weirdco.com/winniethepoohvibrator.htm


Today's Lesson: just because it's got the Disney name on it, doesn't necessarily mean it's fun for the whole family...
posted by Phillip at 4:51 PM