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!

 
The Loo of the Damned

Tonight, they've been fixing the water pipes. And so for about 2-3 hours the water (both hot and cold) was turned off. It has since been restored, and in record time too...as opposed to one session before Christmas, where they reassured us the hot water would be back on by 9am, and sometime around 3:30pm hot water was returned to us.

I rejoice for the water. However, as a result of them flushing the pipes, all the water has a quality that could best be described as: murky. Come to think of it, that's the polite way of saying it. So far, the bathtub and sink water is clear again, but the toilet water still has a healthy rust-looking sheen to it.

Staring down at a toilet bowl with this colour of water unnerves me. I cannot help but fear that the last person to use might have been perhaps the most unfortunate woman to have a period this world has ever seen.

That, or it reminds of a bathroom out of a Resident Evil or Silent Hill game. There's this reddish, blood-rust ocean obscuring the otherwise white porcelain bottom, and I am terrified to think of what either died in it or what unearthly zombie hand is going to come shooting out of it should I venture too close.

This is the sort of thing those really scary games or RPGs are made of:

"Galstaff, you have enterred the bathroom to the north. You are now by yourself, standing in the dark room. The pungent stench of mildew eminates from the wet bathroom walls."

"I cast a spell on the toilet! I'm going to cast Magic Missile!"

And so for the time being, I warily cast a glance down the hallway to the bathroom's direction, hoping that the murky water in the toilet isn't burbling away conspiratorially at me. Sure, you could call me paranoid, but if a toilet happens to try and eat you whilst you're unsuspecting, you'll have no one to blame but yourself.

Well...technically you can blame the toilet too...but that's not really the point here. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what the point of this little bit of nowhere is. Upon further reflection, I don't even think this had a point to begin with. Oh well, it still doesn't change the fact that the colour of the toilet water is making me leery.

Bollywood Karaoke Update: there has been no unintelligible crooning through the walls for the last week. At least during the evening. It would appear that, according to Mel, they have switched Karaoke Hour from the evening to the afternoon. She's still not impressed.


posted by Phillip at 8:34 PM

 
The Cat Ate My Hat (and other pointless feline stories)

Well, truth be known it's more or less one story with an anecdote grafted onto it. You see, today I went for a new look, a change of face as it were. It was nice to finally have the chance to use my day off...to get a haircut. Thrilling, I know, but happily for me, my head feels lighter (yay, less hair!), colder (ack, less hair!), and now the impressive reduction of those bangs sloping over my forehead allows the scratches on my forehead to be so prominently displayed.

It can only be out of filial love and respect that I help Gary trim the claws on his cat, Sumomo. The little kittybutt seems to have developed a grudging resignation to whenever her legs are seized for a trimming session. Usually she squirms so much that 3 people are required to do the trimming: one to trim, one to help hold her front two paws, and the third to hold the rear legs. All three people share the same fate in the end: claw marks all over them.

Well, Sumomo didn't squirm much. She did, however, meow the most pathetic yowls I have ever heard. She also swiped at us. Gary took a few scratches to the wrist. Thanks to my haircut, people can now see the two different sets of swipes Sumomo managed to get across my forehead. At least they're in the upper corners, so it doesn't look like I got into some horrible fight or a silly accident. But regardless, there are about 3 or 4 small claw marks marring my otherwise merchandisable face.

I fail to be amused.

On the plus side, we have now established thanks to the nail-clipping session that if I glare directly at Sumomo and use my "DON'T EVEN" tone of voice, Sumomo actually listens. Granted she has this sulking, ready-to-slink-away-like-Gollum expression, but when told by me to knock it off, she knocks it off.

Hey, it may be a small, silly victory, but given how this is me here, I'll take whatever victories in life I can get!

Today's Lesson: in a marketing strategy gone horribly awry, I have discovered that Spicy Cajun flavoured Pringles do not taste like spicy cajun food. Instead, they taste like beef-flavoured Ichiban Ramen.


posted by Phillip at 2:47 PM

 
Shinobi Mice

I've been thinking a lot about this concept lately, and think that the world could use a good army of shinobi mice. Check that: I could use a good army of shinobi mice. Why? Well, for starters, the idea of shinobi cockroaches just sounds too silly, yet mention "shinobi mice" to someone, and while they laugh at first, they start to think that it could actually work.

I savour the notion of having an army of ninjitsu mice dressed in small, black uniforms, infiltrating the lairs of noted enemies (which reminds me: add "acquire noted enemies" to my To Do list) and performing all sorts of secret, dirty, underhanded deeds on my behalf. Though while I'm not entirely certain how I can train rodents in the martial arts, or make shuriken darts or stars small enough for them to wield, I feel confident that with enough government grant money, I can succeed.

Not necessarily succeed at the "shinobi mice" proposal, mind you, but with enough capital I'm certain I could succeed at something.

Today's Lesson: it's better to be light-hearted when life gets all weighed down. Not to say that I've got a bouyant personality to accomplish this; I figure it's all that hot air in my head that allows me to rise above the dread and drudgery.



posted by Phillip at 7:55 PM

 
Panties!

And since I know you're all thinking about it: no, they're not Mel's panties I'm referring to.

This past Saturday, I found myself staring forlornly at the kiosk. I wondered at where the New Year's vacation had gone to. However, I did not have to wonder at where my pants had gone to. The company gets rather twitchy if their kiosk I-suppose-I'm-the-manager-I-guess is kindly removed off the mall premesis by security after having frightened old ladies and mothers with young children.

Inside the kiosk were a number of boxes from the shipment of merchandise we had received Friday, but had not yet been received and recorded. And so in the usual I-suppose-I'm-the-manager-I-guess manner, I stared into the first open box and prepared to start the receiving.

Here's a brief list of what was in the box: five gumball machines in boxes, three Coke can banks, a few wallets in their boxes, and a pair of panties. Needless to say, upon seeing a pair of white thong panties inside one of our merchandise boxes, I paused and blinked a few times.

I knew that the Bentley Corporation sold winter wear stuff like mittens and scarves...but panties were new on the list to me. First I was boggled. Then I realised that, having been out of the kiosk for the last few days, perhaps I had missed that critical memo informing everyone that we were now a "lingerie" gift kiosk.

Of course...that still didn't explain why there was only one pair of white thong panties in the box. Not to mention, it was a pair of white thong panties with a tag from La Vie En Rose attached to it.

Okay, so much for my Lingerie Gift Kiosk theory. Though I do wonder if I could sell women's underwear with (pardon the phrasing) a straight face.

This still didn't explain how a pair of panties had mysteriously appeared inside the box. I knew that the "Spontaneous Creation" theory had been disproven in the Middle Ages, where it was once believed that rats suddenly appeared in places where there was a lot of food and filth.

Were they a gift from On High, panties from heaven as it were, born of some immaculate conception/sewing, given to me for some divine purpose? Doubtful. Worth considering, but alas, doubtful. White isn't really Mel's colour. (And that just earned me a scornful look...and probably a good thwack from the nearest pillow to boot.)

I then reflected that I was the only guy working at the kiosk. Perhaps one of the three female co-workers had left it there after making some purchases during a lunch break. Granted, I was not about to ask myself which of them said panties belonged to, and I'd as soon never know.

Not knowing what else to do with these panties until someone else who worked Friday and could explain their presence showed up later in the afternoon, I took the pair of white thong panties and discreetly placed them in the "Hold" drawer of the kiosk.

Sometime later, it was explained to me that no one working at the kiosk had left the panties there. The cuplrit, as it were, was a customer who had been looking at photo albums and...well, somehow lost their recently-purchased pair of undies atop the rows of albums. In short, a woman out there is missing her panties, and unless she has any sort of replacement pair, is probably very cold right now.

Not that a pair of thongs really do anything to help keep one warm anyways. How can it, when it's practically cloth butt-floss? See, this is why I'm a boxers kind of guy....

Today's Reflection: having a mall almost completely dead all day long can be a refreshing change from the hordes of people. Of course, in a week or so I'll probably be whining about how bored I am during the day.


posted by Phillip at 6:55 PM