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!

 
"Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ, Hang the DJ..."

Ah, pressure: pushing down on me, pushing down on you, and so forth. They say that you should exhibit grace under pressure. They say that given enough pressure, you'll crack (presumably like an egg). Ferris Bueller explained that his friend Cameron was under so much personally-induced pressure that (pardon his French) if you shoved a lump of coal up Cameron's ass, in 2 weeks you'd have a diamond.

Pressure is a rather unique phenomenon. It's something that can actually tag along after you like a puppy dog. It will follow you wherever you go, no matter how hard you try to dogde it. It will even follow you into the bathroom, never giving you a moment's peace. Pressure has this way of consuming your thoughts and reducing you into a wreck, and then making you feel guilty for trying to find a moment's peace.

I'm getting to a point in my life where pressure is threatening to flatten me like a second-hand pancake found on the side of the road. Actually working to get your life up on two proverbial feet is at times a rather difficult process when it feels like everything is suddenly trying to kick said legs out from underneath you. Currently I've given up on caring about the pressure of the moment. Terrifying myself isn't going to make it go away. Frustrating myself isn't going to bring about any solutions. Fretting about it constantly is going to accomplish a great deal of nothing.

It's a peculiar sensation to look at the pressure dead on (metaphorically speaking, of course), and then upon realizing you've done all you can and the rest is out of your hands for the time being, you turn your back to it and not care. It sounds reckless, but there is a method to the madness, I assure all of you out there. I just won't be going into it here.

Instead I have been slowly letting go of all the tension, all the worry, and all the blind panic. Music, not surprisingly, has proven to be a valuable outlet. There are a handful of songs out there I can listen to in my darkest of days, and when I listen to them, I forget about the pressure, even if it's only for the duration of the song. The release is incredible, and the freedom is akin to an adrenaline rush drawn out over the course of a few minutes instead of a few seconds.

Pressure can push down on me right now, but I'm not yet about to let it crush me. If anything, I'm biding my time and saving my strength for one final coup de grace. Whether or not it will prove a brilliant stroke of insanity or just plain brilliant will depend on my success. But it's out of my hands right now. Worry is there, but I'm not about to let it consume me.

In the meantime, to paraphrase the Red Hot Chili Peppers, I have music as my aeroplane.

Today's Lesson: for those of you curious, the title to this little bit of nowhere is referring to lyrics from the song "Panic" by The Smiths. Not only is the band sharing my surname, but it's also one of the few times I've heard such a cheery, almost prozac-like chant about hanging someone. Then again, this is disco the mob in the chorus is talking about....


posted by Phillip at 5:26 PM

 
Helmet-Head Rides Again!

I have cash once more. Cash is good. Cash is needed to buy hair gel, so when my hair dries each morning, it doesn't go all foofy. What do I mean by "foofy"? Well, picture what a cartoon cat looks like after coming out of a dryer: a giant, floating ball of fuzz with tiny tails and paws sticking out. Tails and paws obviously aside, that's what my hair looks like when given roughly 10 minutes to dry.

Not so long ago, my fiancee laughed when I told her this and wanted to see if I wasn't just over-exaggerating. A short time later that morning, she gawked and had to admit my hair did indeed have "cat-out-of-the-dryer" syndrome.

So, what's needed to stop this? Hair gel, natch. And not just a small amount of it. No, that would be too easy and simply a solution. You see, my hair is cunning and wily, and I really think it has a slightly sadistic bent since it always seems to be taunting me by doing exactly the opposite of what I would like it to. And thusly, in order to lay the proverbial smackdown on my hair (as a literal smackdown would, in effect, result in my smacking myself. And that hurts!) I must be a bit on the liberal side when lathering my hair up with gel.

Ergo, my hair becomes crunchy after gel application and the combing. Most people when they hear "helmet head" think that's what my hair would look like had I just been wearing a helmet for a while. Nope. To me, "helmet head" is my hair after it's gelled and dried. It's about as hard as a fibreglass helmet. My friends enjoy pushing down and cracking the layer of gel on my bangs, which reduces my hair back to its somewhat-foofy nature.

For the last few days I've been at a loss for hair gel. It ran out. I also thought I was at a loss for cash, so I could not replenish my supply. I've had to spend the last while soaking my hair about 3-4 times a day just so it doesn't go foofy, which is rather difficult in this humidity. My lack of helmet hair made me feel weak, unable to carry on with life. It's like foofy hair is my Kryptonite, or something like that. But now I have money, and hair gel.

(Though I discovered yesterday that my debit account had $8 left in it the entire time I thought I was without any cash, so I could have purchased the $1.60 bottle after all. Go figure.)

Today's Lesson: When given proper time to let all the lessons get drilled into my head, I can in fact dance. And not just "badly" either!


posted by Phillip at 6:44 PM

 
I Went, I Saw, I Needed Fries With That.

Well, after hardships untold and dangerous unnumbered, I fought my way to the Goblin City, to...oh, wait. Wrong movie! Anyhoo, 28 Days Later was at long last seen, and all in all I quite enjoyed it. Admittedly I think the North American hype of it was rather skewed; there's not that much run-from-the-zombie action, and more of the movie centres around the characters coping with an "end of the world" scenario. That isn't to say 28 Days Later lacks tense moments, gory moments, and just plain disturbing moments. You can just blame any disappointment on the marketing.

I also discovered why I now have an extra "emergency movie ticket replacement thingy" too. Apparently the projectionist in our theatre was rather new to the job, and managed to royally FUBAR things up in the booth. This news amused me greatly, especially coming from the guy at the ticket counter who also works in the projection booth. His confusion and exasperation at the whole matter (coupled with his extreme relief that he hadn't been working that night) was quite brilliant, since according to him the theatre hasn't had any sort of problem like that in...oh, 3 years.

So there you have it. I got to be a part of local cinematic history. Or infamy.

One of the two.

And I can't help but wonder if, by keeping true to the movie that was being shown in that theatre, the defective projectionist was torn to shreds and/or eaten by the theatre managers....

Today's Lesson: after viewing myself on the webcam, I must grudgingly admit that my fiancee was indeed right. There is no such thing as a "manly" dainty skip.


posted by Phillip at 7:16 AM

 
"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