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!

 
Melange

Well, it's been quite some time since the last bit of nowhere was to be seen or heard, and in the meantime the world has undergone not-exactly-staggering-but-still-worth-mentioning changes, and not-so-epic-but-certainly-anecdotal discoveries. Here they are!


Sex Appeal

A few days ago, I was goosed by an elevator. There I was, sitting near the doorway, when the elevator doors made a none too subtle groping of my butt as they passed me by. By the time I could turn around with an indignant look on my face, the elevator doors had already moved on by and I could do nothing. It seems peculiar to know that I have some latent sex appeal that brings out the frisky passions and libitos of inanimate objects. I'm not entirely sure if this is an ego-inflating concept (after all, how many of you out there can say you've aroused a couch or an elevator door?), or a frightening one.


"Quick, Put Toto In The Picnic Basket!"

The mall I work at has a security bunker in case some wild twister decides to get up to some Level-5 shenanigans. It also doubles as a fire escape. And a bomb shelter. In truth it's nothing more than a very large, very long and overly-glorified cement tunnel that runs the course underneath the mall. So if my kiosk decides to spontaneously combust, I know where to flee to.


Moo?

Sears is in possession of a toilet that, when flushed, sounds like a cow is being stuffed into it. Why anyone would try to get a toilet to emulate the sound of a hapless bovine being given a swirlie is beyond me, but apparently someone felt that it should work this way. To this, I give a helpless shrug.


And I Wasn't Told Of This Earlier, Because?

Perhaps the greatest discovery and earth-shattering revelation of all the last few days has been learning that the colour periwinkle is not, in fact, a shade of yellow. Periwinkle is of a blueish or violet tint. For years I was led to believe that when anything was said to be Periwinkle in colour, it was yellowish. I have been living a lie for all these years....


Today's Lesson: Neil Gaiman is a seriously cool author who I admire and want to imitate, though not in a single-white-female kind of way. Oh, and it's pronounced Gay-man, not Guy-man.



posted by Phillip at 5:53 PM

 
The Hills Are Alive With The Sound of Chirping

Well, actually it's not the hills so much as it's the basement. And that chirping noise is not necessarily a good one either. I think I'd taken it for granted just how bloody loud a cricket can be. At first the peculiar chirping noises appeared to be a metal pipe that was vibrating or rattling oddly. Then after it started and stopped three more times, it was apparent that a cricket had invaded the basement.

This was by no means an aggressive, Viking-like "raped the horses, rode off on the women, and pruned the hedges of many small villages" invasion. Yet I think I almost would have welcomed a burly Olgar the Dreaded storming down the stairs and demanding I submit. My response would be, "certainly, but you must shower first."

For a moment we would be at an impasse. The Olgar in all likelihood would cave my head in. There's a reason his last name is "the Dreaded" after all.

But back to the cricket: I'm as fond of nature as the next person. I let butterflies dance around the backyard, and kill the unruly mosquitos who dare think they're good enough to suck my O-negative. I read National Geographic and watch the Discovery Channel. Yet when a cricket is chirping at 11pm with all the surround sound capacity of a Dolby 5.1 speaker set, I am not amused.

Worst of all, the little green bugger had managed to get himself on one of the ceiling pipes. I outwitted the small greenish insect by devising a cunning plan that involved a ladder, a flashlight and happy, happy thoughts. Then the cricket outwitted me by jumping onto the floor. At least I had first presumed it was the floor. Then I felt something climbing up the side of my arm.

Yes, it appeared that the cricket had miscalculated his landing and was now perched on me like some erstaz parrot. So I cupped a hand over him to prevent him from escaping, saunted up to the front porch and let him sing his mating call outside where I couldn't hear him.

I'm sure there's some sort of poignant "live and let live" message here, or perhaps a wonderful sermon about "striking a balance between the coexistance between human civilization (such as it is) and nature". But it's late at night and I'd rather not spend so much time sounding sanctimonious. So good night!

Today's Lesson: the bottom-most button on a tuxedo jacket is always left undone. Why? Well...I'm sure there's a good reason for it, tradition and all, but damned if I know the reasoning. And if you only have one button on your tuxedo jacket, it stays buttoned.




posted by Phillip at 7:01 PM

 
Not A Good Kind Of Hurt

It came to my attention at around 3:34pm this afternoon (give or take a few seconds) that I have a surprisingly large bundle of nerve endings and pain receptors located at the tip of my right hip.

This discovery was achieved through a complete lack of co-ordination and depth perception on my part, where I swung around the cash till at Bentley and managed to quite impressively whack the tip of my right hip against the edge of the counter. What followed was a complete and total numbness that overtook most of my right thigh and almost made me lose bladder control. (And believe me, in retail work nothing is perhaps more important than maintaining proper bladder control in front of the customers.)

This numbess was quickly followed by a horrific prickling in my skin, as if hundreds of small maggots were writhing about. And that was followed my many colourful words hissed through my clenched jaws that really shouldn't be repeated in front of small children. It required another minute or two before I could stand upright and feel no pain.

It has often been thought, and is probably rather accurate, that most of the greatest scientific discoveries in history were done so by sheer accident or dumb luck. I'm torn between which of these two to blame for nearly losing bladder control during my work shift. Whether or not this same surprisingly large bundle of nerve endings and pain receptors also resides on my left hip I do not know currently, nor do I want to test to find out.

Today's Lesson: there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. Cracking your hip bone against the edge of a wooden counter clearly flings itself across that line into "Painful" territory.


posted by Phillip at 5:27 PM