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!

 
Intense Ironic Action!!!

This morning I discovered that I was in dire need of deli meat for my luncheon sandwich. For that matter if I wished my sandwich-filled dreams to come true, I also needed bread, lettuce, cheese and a tomato. But fortunately, there was mayonnaise a-plenty. As I walked down the street to visit the local grocery store so as to restock my dwindling sandwich supplies, I saw a most curious thing.

There inside the large front windows of a house was a sign that read: Beware of Dog. Right next to that sign was an undisturbed, happily sleeping cat.

To quote Peter Venkman: "Dogs and cats living together! Mass hysteria!"
posted by Phillip at 9:28 AM

 
Dead Chaos Week

Yep, due to a rather malignant and disturbingly powerful virus that is the sinus cold, I've been pretty much out of commission the past few days. Having to share a bed with 4 Shih-tzu puppies hogging most of the space doesn't help to make one feel more comfortable either. While today certainly finds me better than I was on, say, Tuesday, I'm still not up to my usual speed o' things.

But not about to leave all 3 of you reading this without any sort of rantings or ramblings, I decided to give you something better: abject humiliation at my expense. So I called up a colourful diary entry of mine dating back to mid-December. This is more or less referred to as "The Givenchy Incident", or "Gerbil Pour Hommes." Enjoy!

*****

23rd December, 2002.

The season of Commercialmas is nearing us all, and as I tour the malls and soak up the frenetic shopping spirit that is $-mas, I cannot help but wonder if the world has gone mad. That or else I have somehow drifted back to the shores of sanity in a rubber dingy.

The past few days have found me enduring curious incidents that either confirm the world is in fact going mad, or else someone has been slipping magic mushrooms onto my pizza orders. For example, I have discovered a new thing about my cute little puppy, Shady.

Shady is a Shih-tzu. Shady is cuddly. Shady follows me almost everywhere I go. Shady also appears to be a lesbian. Yes, I'm not sure just how it happened, but apparently I have a lesbian puppy for a pet. How have I discerned this? Well, when your female puppy decides to start humping one of the other female puppies in the house....

You get the picture, people. Please don't make me draw one.

And now, with only two days to go before $-mas day arrives, I have made a unique discovery: 'Givenchy Pour Homme' is a cologne that makes me smell like the woodchips in a hamster cage. my girlfriend & I were doing some Commercialmas shopping for her earlier this morning, and she wanted me to try out some different styles of colognes.

Now thus far Calvin Klein's "Contradiction" seems to work really well on me. But Mel wanted to experiment, and I was open to seeing if there was some other cologne I could use in the future.

The sales lady in The Bay was very helpful when we said we were testing out scents, and proceeded to rather cheerfully bombard me with the tester for Givenchy Pour Homme. Within about 10 seconds I smelled like a Parisean whore. By the time we left The Bay about five minutes later, I smelled like a cheap Parisean whore.

Hours have passed and I have tried to scrub the scent off my arm as best I can, using a facecloth, some soap, and a good dose of Boric acid. I still smell like a pile of woodchips in a gerbil cage.

So I suffer this indignity, but I always try to find the silver lining in every cloud. Namely, if you can still learn something from any experience, even a very unpleasant one, then the experience itself was not a waste. You can find this lesson at the end of all this.

But enough about that.

There has also been a strange if not ironic increase of Spam in my Inbox. Now this unto itself is not a new thing at all; Spam has now been added to that list of inevitable things we all hate but will have to bear, like death and taxes. Yet recently, many kind people have been Emailing me, excitedly sharing with me how I can increase my breast size to at least twice what it currently is. Now I'm pretty secure about my physical appearance, but what scares me is that after seeing all these Emails, I'm starting to wonder if my cleavage is in fact smaller than average.

Though Mel assures me her breast size more than makes up for my bust inadequacies, so I guess it balances out in the grand scheme of things.

No doubt in the near future, $-mas will herald many other strange and ominous events that must be recorded. Until that time, this is me wishing you all a not-so-nonsensical Commercialmas.


Today's lesson: the odour of 'Givenchy Pour Hommes' likens me to a cheap Parisean whore's pet gerbil.


Today's other lesson: parents hate you when you walk down the toy aisle in Walmart, and set off all the "Chicken Dance Elmo" dolls so they're all singing simultaneously, which instantly attracts kids. Honestly, if looks could have killed with that one mother who, thanks to us, suddenly found her 2 year-old son going after a Chicken Dance Elmo like a piranha on a porkchop....
posted by Phillip at 7:57 AM

 
I have discovered the name of my true nemesis in life, and it is: the chocolate cookie.

This vile, dreaded fiend has plagued me for most of my natural life (which does beg the question of how long of an unnatural life I've lived, but that's another rant, I'm sure), and I in my utterly human weakness have rarely been able to come out of battle against the chocolate cookie with my pride intact. I am, sadly, a cookie monster. Just not the blue furry one with a puppeteer's hand shoved up his arse.

Cookies, especially chocolate ones, are my Achilles Heel. They turn me into a compulsive muncher, a voracious demon-beast who must gorge himself on all the hapless little cookie-villagers, tossing one after the other into my gaping and insaciable maw. Case in point: after going months without any contact with cookies, yesterday I bought myself a 700g pack of cookies as a treat. This means I had roughly 50-something cookies whispering horrid temptations into my ears all afternoon. Two hours later, I only had to contend with about 20 cookies whispering horrid temptations into my ears. A typical battle of the wills tends to go like this:

Chocolate cookie: "Go ahead...eat me and all of my 24 friends. You know you want to."

Me: "Forsooth, I must not permit this collapse of conscience to prevail!"

Chocolate cookie: "But you love chocolate! Don't you love me?"

Me: "Verily, I doth protest my love to you, ere it brings me down to hate and loathing of my very self!"

Chocolate cookie: "Why are you ranting in such a horrid Shakespearean-Tolkienesque prose?"

Me: [shrug] "Dramatic emphasis?"

Chocolate cookie: "Your fancy words will be of no use."

Me: "Never! I shall triumph this time!"

Chocolate cookie: "Did I mention I have cream in my centre?"

Me: ^-^ "Ooooh, yummy! Munchmunchmunchmunchmunch!!"


Villany, thy name is chocolate cookie.
posted by Phillip at 6:59 AM