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!

 
If You Spit Off The Edge Of The World, Would There Be A Ripple In Space?

And this incredibly, existentially pointless question has been brought to you by a long day capping off a long week which has in turn capped off a long month which has in turn capped off a long year. That's a lot of capping, come to think of it. I wonder if I'm over a legal limit of some kind.

Oh well.

Today brings with it a brilliant yet useless observation. It's about music. Everyone has peculiar songs they like. Eveyone has loathsome songs they dislike. On any given day, some of Column A and some of Column B will pop into their head, and more often than not, they can't get rid of it.

As my uncle can attest, the Evangelion Fly Me To The Moon (Asuka's Bossa Techno version) falls under the "Damn you! Damn you for playing that before I went to work!" category.

For me there's been a combination of good and bad songs. And then there's one very unique song that holds a special place in my heart...er, head. It may sound strange. It may sound silly. And for most of you who know me well enough, it seems oddly appropriate. But fact is I cannot consider it a good day unless I have Scarecrow's song If I Only Had A Brain from the "Wizard of Oz" movie spontaneously popping into my head.

I will be sitting around or walking or working, and then suddenly I'll be humming the chorus. Then I find myself singing the line, "If I only had a brain!" Usually the song stops there. Probably because I know very little else of the actual lyrics. Yet this song surfaces in my daily goings-on almost without fail every day. I've grown rather fond of it.

So if one day I suddenly blurt aloud, "If I only had a brain!", you know why. You'll probably also agree that it would be nice if I only had a brain. But that's another self-depreciating moment we'll reserve for later.

In other news, this little bit of nowhere may very well fall off the edge of the world (though a cosmic wrinkle or ripple resulting has yet to be determined) over the next few days. The short of it is this: my fiancee is arriving tomorrow. To stay. Much rejoicing.

And somewhere out there, one of you reading this has started up with some acapella porno music...

Regardless, it's been about 2 months since we've been able to be together. And this will make it a 3-week time before the wedding. Half the items in my bedroom (notably the bed that makes it a 'bedroom') are gone, and sitting happily in their new apartment. The rest will ideally follow tomorrow. So will Mel. Tomorrow will be the first night we can spend together in a long time, and it will be done in our own, our first apartment.

So if you can't get a hold of us or find us, it's probably because we're celebrating. Or we're dead asleep since the last while has proven rather exhausting for both of us.

Hmm...upon rereading this, I see I was trying to sound quirky yet endearing, and I don't think I pulled either of them off very well. Oh well, you'll just have to make do with it. After all, it's been a very long week....

Today's Recant: sleep is good. (formerly was 'Sleep is for the weak!')


posted by Phillip at 7:54 PM

 
Karma?

And now, a definition of Ironic Timing:

You and your fiancee both receive promotions at your respective jobs...while you both live in different countries...and you're going to be married in 3 weeks...and she's about to move up to where you live in 3 days....

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.

Today's Lesson: life will never cease to be interesting. As such, it's highly recommended one carries a spare barfbag for those occasions when life starts to spin around rather fast.




posted by Phillip at 7:56 PM

 
A Bachelor's Built For 2

It could be said that certain doom smells a lot like burnt cookies. Alternately, almost-certain-doom smells a lot like gasoline. Or barring that, turpentine. Such smells do not tend to garner any sort of status on my "Good Things" list. Especially when such gasoline-enriched smells are coming from a basement where there is no gasoline supply of any sort.

Suffice to say, the next-door neighbours tend to treat their house garage like an actual mechanic's garage. They did some heavy engine work on a car of theirs a few days ago, and then just sealed shut the garage. Those of you who've taken WHMIS courses on proper ventilation of noxious and dangerous fumes are all cringing right now, I'm sure.

Since this place happens to be a duplex of sorts, we learned very quickly that their garage needed to air out. Two days of gasoline fumes building and building in their garage seeped into our basement. If none of what I'm writing makes sense, it's probably because I'm still a bit high on the fumes. At the very least, they were informed and have opened their garage door to let all the toxic odours escape into the wild.

I am, though, rather impressed that their garage didn't spontaneously combust. Anyone lighting a match near that place would have probably been killed by the flying, flaming lawnmower if the initial blast didn't do it first.

Neighbours like this worry me. I really don't care all that much if they decide to be reckless idiots and nearly blow themselves to bits. It's their perogative to at least try, if they feel so inclined. It's that whole I-live-next-to-you-and-would-probably-be-blown-up-too part I'm not fond of. That part I do care about.

Happily, this won't be a worry in the near future.

Why? Well, I am soon to be joining the ranks of the few, the free, the rent-paying public. Yes indeed, an apartment has been found for Mel, myself and Shady the Shih-tzu to settle down in as the wedding comes and goes. It's not the grandest of places by any stretch. It's a far cry from luxury, and it's not near my place of work (though it is next to a major bus route).

But it's going to be ours.

It's probably been 2 years since I've been able to call any place I've stayed at a home. A house, certainly. Someone else's house, definitely. But for all that they've been, the good and the bad, there were not a home. More to the point, they were not my home. Perhaps it's a territorial thing (though many of you will no doubt be happy to know I don't mark the doors or doorways of whatever room I happen to live in), but I like having something decisively all mine. When you live in someone else's place, it's hard to bring yourself to call it a home. It's nothing more than a domicile, a fixed location.

I may be there, but my heart is not.

Looking around the empty 1-bedroom apartment a few days ago, right after the lease and last month's deposit had been signed, brought with it an unexpected smile to my face. I stood there in an empty, tiled living room with white walls and large balcony windows, and realized this was where I was going to live. Not just myself, but my fiancee and my dog as well. This was where something I could call a family would begin. It was something I would be supporting. It was something I had fought for, in more ways than one.

It had lost the feel of just another building, of just another apartment. It had life. It had warmth. It had potential. It was someplace I suddenly knew I could call a home. More than that, it would be our home.

If you happen across me on the street in the next few days, and ask my why I've got such a quiet, enigmatic smile on my face, I may tell you, "Because there's a home waiting for me when I leave here."

Today's Lesson: great things start with small beginnings. And, always air out your garage on a regular basis, just in case it suddenly decides to try and spontaneously combust on you.



posted by Phillip at 6:36 PM

 
Blarg....

The past few days have been nothing short of frenetic. I think that word has something to do with frenzy, and if it does, then it's an apt description of what I've seen, endured and almost amazingly survived. If it does not, those of you haughtily waggling thesauruses at me will be shot first. Those haughtily waggling dictionaries will also be shot first. (What can I say, I like imaginary weapons with large kill zone spreads.)

The details and dizziness can all come about in a later bit of nowhere. Right now this last week has finally caught up to me, and it's late enough in the evening for me to want to sleep. Suffice it to say, a lot of things can be said, not so many things will be said, and a few things will be left unsaid.

In the meantime, I shall leave you with this...

Anecdote of the Day: the scent of a pizza box being accidentally baked in the oven smells a lot like a computer harddrive about to burst into flames. I can now personally attest to this. And since I know at least 1 person will ask: no, I wasn't the one who cooked the pizza box.


posted by Phillip at 5:50 PM