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!

 
Conspiracy Theories

Every time we pass by the large garbage bin outside our apartment, there's a couch. It might be a couch sitting in the bin itself, or just happily sitting right next to the bin awaiting the garbage truck to send it to that big living room in the sky. It might be a couch that looks like mint toothpaste exploded all over it, or that hundreds of doilies gave their lives to make it, or that a cat had used all 9 lives carving it apart.

But the fact remains that every time the garbage bin is emptied (and it is emptied about twice a week, at least), a new couch suddenly if not magically appears to take the place of the last couch that got carted off.

I am admittedly perplexed about this. I know that we have roughly 45-48 individual apartments in our complex, and the residents of each apartment all have their own sets of furniture to use, abuse and inevitably discard.

This strill does not answer why, for the last 3 months, going on 4, there has been a new couch in the garbage bin every time the bin gets emptied. And this happens during weeks when people are not moving in or out either. How is it that one apartment complex can have so many couches?

Are there couch breeders in the complex, and the "runts" of the litter are tossed aside? Is there some secret, midnight Furniture Fight Club that meets in our indoor parking lot every week, and pounds the literal stuffing out of each other? Is there a Jack The Furniture Ripper lurking in the neighbourhood, and the couches we see in the garbage are in fact his latest victims?

Or perhaps these couches are in fact alien beings who are spying on us...and as a result seeing a lot more than they bargained for, given how many asses sit down on a couch daily. Though this might have a connection with all the rampant rectal probing we hear so much about.

So what is the truth behind the mystery of all these castaway couches? The world may never know....

Today's Lesson: never lie about merchandise to a store employee who can call your bluff with a simple receipt. Idiots....


posted by Phillip at 8:20 PM

 
Open Mind, Empty Head

I'm always one to advocate freedom of speech. I like what anti-censorship institutions like the CBLFD (Comic Book Legal Defense Fund) stand for and protect. The freedom for any person to be able to express their views without having duct tape slapped across their mouths, blindfolds wrapped around their eyes, and then getting beaten until they submit to someone else's opinions is an important one.

However, the sword is double-sided. If you allow for freedom of speech, by the same token you have to let complete idiots be able to shout out the saddest dialogues and vulgarities that they want. I'm glad I in turn have the freedom to disagree with them, and tell them this to their face should I choose to...but I'd rather not have to face a society that panders to such idiots in the first place.

So naturally I can only groan and shake my head at the ever-ebbing faith I have in humanity in light of recent events. Earlier tonight, Mel & I walked past the elementary school as we took Shady outside, and saw spray-painted on the walls various grammatical uses of the word "fuck" in relation to the school and some of its teachers. This message was concluded by a peace symbol and the words "peace out."

The only silver lining I can see is that at least they manage to spell everything correctly.

This having been March Break, I don't know if any of the teachers have been around the school and noticed the graffiti. This also being Friday night, I don't know if any teachers or custodial staff will be around over the weekend and notice it before school resumes Monday morning. Mel & I are going to try and contact someone at the school to at least know they are aware of the graffiti. Ideally it can be blacked out before Monday. Sure, most of the kids probably know all the swears and have uttered them on one

I think it's more the audacity to use the words "peace out" that has me particularly perturbed. It's unintentionally ironic that such blatant rage-inciting remarks be rounded out by a word that is meant to symbolize its complete antithesis. Personally, I find it a rather public act of cowardice; if you can't say such things outright in front of those you have a problem with, then spray-painting it across a wall isn't going to make you seem any more impressive. Personal delusions notwithstanding, of course.

There's exercising your freedom to speak your mind, even if it's rather unpopular or ill-conceived or outright narrow-minded. And then there's being a right arrogant tit who perhaps deserves a little bit of Clockwork Orange therapy. I'm not a particularly violent man, but if I do happen to be in a conversation with the twit(s) responsible for spray painting that across an elementary school, and they congradulate themselves for it, I think my immediate response will be to let my fist do the talking. I'll let it make one profound statement, and then leave the room to allow for my opinion to sink in further.

Today's Lesson: postponed until I reassert my faith in humanity again.


posted by Phillip at 8:35 PM

 
It's Raining Maintenance Men....

Hallelujah?

Well, actually, had the maintenance guy made one wrong step or even shifted his weight, I would have had the most interesting Store Incident Report to fill out. Namely: 'guy fell through ceiling.' There were a number of maintenance workers running around the mall, checking each store's sprinkler heads for the fire system. This required him to go above our ceiling tiles and rummage around to make sure everything was in proper working order.

So while he was standing on a ladder (as opposed to doing some crazy Mission: Impossible thing like cling to the ceiling rafters & hanging precariously above the tiles), it was rather interesting to come into the store and see this pair of feet sticking out from the ceiling. Especially if you didn't see the ladder first, for a moment you would think that the maintenance guy had actually gotten stuck in the ceiling and couldn't get down at all.

From one of my own previous jobs, I can attest that it's rather fun to be poking around above the ceiling tiles of a store. Granted even I weighed too much to actually be able to crawl around in there, and thusly had to use a ladder, but it's still pretty neat to see just how unkempt everything is behind the scenes.

And in other news, I have discovered that the most effective way to traumatize my wife is to molest cute stuffed animals she wants to purchase. Most of you have now paused and reread that last sentence over again just to make sure you'd read it right. Allow me to explain: we were buying some groceries for dinner, and came across a bin filled with large, Easter-themed stuffed animals.

Now Mel has an impressive Achilles Heel: her iron will turns into tin foil when confronted with cute things. And amidst this pile of plushies was a large, cute-looking sheep. When I say large, I do mean large. This sheep was larger than Shady, our Shih-tzu. Upon seeing it, Mel immediately squeaked, "Cuuuuuuute!" and glomped onto it. She then proceeded to give me these Bambi eyes, imploring me to purchase such a cute sheep for her.

Admittedly our budget is tight, with rent and expenses and groceries, so I knew we couldn't afford to buy the plush sheep. Nor was I about to endure a 10 minute sulking session where Mel would walk around moping about how cute the sheep was, and how she had to leave it behind. (If you think I'm being cruel in my description, then you obviously were not around when she was pouting over the KareKano DVD box set she couldn't buy...and I did buy behind her back as a Commercialmas present.)

So what was I to do? We had to leave the sheep behind, and I also didn't want a sulky-saturated aftermath. Then I had a brilliant idea! Well...it was an idea, at any rate. I smiled at Mel, took the sheep in my hands, held it's back end against my crotch, and slowly turned to Mel with a very evil grin on my face.

To say she was horrified would be an understatement. I only wish I'd had a camera there to capture her sheer shock and disbelief for posterity. Needless to say we didn't get the sheep, and Mel didn't moon over it either. Instead all she could do was gesture towards the stuffed animal bin and let out these sad, horrified squeaks at random intervals. In all honesty, she couldn't picture the sheep anymore without seeing my evil grin right behind it.

Ah, trauma. Nothing kills consumerism quite the way it does.

Mel's Lesson of the Day: "Never mix sex and hot showers. It makes you light-headed and dizzy." And I quote. (And will no doubt hurt because of it ;)


posted by Phillip at 8:22 PM

 
Bride of Trufflepurse

Just when I thought it was safe to think that fashion accessory designers could be left alone without any adult supervision, a new purse comes in with the latest shipment. Many of you who read this regularly do, I’m sure, recall the wonders of the Trufflepurse--which more resembles an oversized piece of chocolate than a purse. In a similar vein is a purse that has the same small, cylindrical shape, but is black with white trim. While this purse does look a lot more normal than its compatriots, it does bear a striking semblance to a piece of licorice.

I almost behooves me to say that our store must now proudly display the Mallowpurse on the front racks. Imagine, if you will, a small, cylindrical purse that is marshmallow white. In fact, were you to touch the fabric, you’d think it was made of marshmallow too given its soft texture.

I’m not entirely sure why all my nicknames for purse designs gone horribly awry all seem to revolve around food. Maybe my brain is subconsciously telling me that I want a salad after all....

Then again, there was the Cleavagepurse.


Today’s Lesson: it is one thing to worry about a puppy licking your face and wondering where it’s tongue has been. It’s an even greater worry to know that the puppy licking your face was previously cleaning its crotch.

posted by Phillip at 6:37 PM