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 last 48 hours have been exceptionally gruelling, though for the most part the worst of the proverbial storm has passed by. That's not to say I'm left with a feeling of ease. Quite the opposite, in fact--I'm still getting over the unpleasantries that have subsequently transpired in these past two days, and it has left me feeling just the teensiest psychotic. The stress continues to linger, though not in its highest peaks like yesterday (for example), and I can't exactly say all my frustration and anger has been worked through in some positive manner. I lack one of those kickboxing punching bags, after all. Which is why I'm pleased to have the next best thing for myself: my writing.

There is nothing so wholesomely therapeutic as venting anger amidst a fictitious apocalypse, complete with a harbinger whose hobby it is to decapitate people. That's not to say that I condone violence, even of the fictional kind, though my stories seem rather prone to it. (I can always argue it's the human condition to destroy whatever can be otherwise healed or created; it makes me sound sophisticated and philosophical, at any rate.)

However, it gives me quite the satisfied smile to have a rather reprehensible character, who has literally been getting away with murder for 100 pages, suddenly find themselves at the mercy of someone far more powerful and completely insane. Which doesn't bode well, since said person has no mercy in them, period. I expect a head to be tumbling along the ground very shortly. Followed by the expected impalings, cleavings and incinerations.

I can't believe I'm so cheerful as I write this. Oh well, it is therapy after all, and everyone likes a good apocalypse or two. It makes me wonder why don't have The End of the World more often.

Today's Affirming Moment: it's always good to see people taking their pets out for a stroll. Though it's a first for me to see a man cycling down the street with a very large, very white and very happy cockatiel sitting on his arm, enjoying the ride.


posted by Phillip at 9:14 AM

 

Yesterday was filled with them, and today will probably ensue with much of the same. Ideally there will be more time for explanations later on in the day; I just wanted to make use of this colourful title before it escaped my mind.

posted by Phillip at 5:35 AM

 

This being one of the few but happy days off I have over the course of August, Mel & I decided that it would be a wonderful idea to take Shady out to one of the local parks and let her do the many things a small Shih-tzu on a leash would like to do: run, run some more, chase ducks, run, chase squirrels, and then beg for food at the hotdog stand.

And yet, not 2 minutes after we parked the car and let Shady start romping around on the grass, what happened? She stepped in dogshit. Not hers, mind you, but this remains the first time I've ever seen a dog accidentally step onto another dog's crap. It certainly didn't help that this was rather fresh, and must have squished beneath Shady's paw given how she suddenly reeled and stumbled about with her now-soiled paw held aloft in the air. But I will say, the ferociously indignant look she gave us was priceless.

It was something along the lines of: "What the hell is this? Get it off, get it off, get it off! And what the hell's that smell?!"

Happily, there was a nearby bathroom, so I got to truck Shady in an rinse her rather ripe-smelling paw off. Well, on the plus side, at least she was going to getting a bath later tonight anyways.

(Mel would also like to add that this must be karma, for the few occasions she's "discovered" some surprises Shady left on the apartment floor for us...feet-first.)

Today's Lesson: clean up after your dog. Or else other puppies might stumble into it--not across it, into it. Won't someone think of the puppies?!


posted by Phillip at 2:45 PM

 

So there I was, sitting at the computer as Mel sat down to watch the old VHS tapes of the Star Wars trilogy, which happen to include the interviews with George Lucas at the start of each movie. As I'm idling about, I hear Mel exclaim the following words: "George Lucas talks too long...and he has no neck!"

To which I suggested, "Well, maybe he just has a saggy chin. I don't know!"

But getting back to this little bit of nowhere, yesterday saw Mel, Gary and I hanging out at the Ontario Rennaissance Festival with Kevin & Donna. Much wenching, drinking and rejoicing ensued throughout the day. There were many memories and purchases (not to mention things I could only pine for...ah, sweet leather coat, why must thou torment me so with your $550 price tag?), and so to keep things concise, here are some lessons learned from the Renfair:

--Celtic Ale, which is very dark, kicks like a soccer cleat to the teeth; whereas cream ale is light, bright and sweet (but oddly enough, does not taste like Cream Lemon)

--you can never have too much jerky...and apparently there is such a thing as salmon jerky too

--it is not necessarily a good thing to flag down the guy selling dill pickles, and say you want a long, thick, juicy pickle to suck on.

--if they run out of turkey legs, you may have to wait 2 hours before you can get them again


Hmmm...upon rereading this, it occurs to me that these lessons are all about food. Was that all I really thought about during the Renfair?! Well, yes, mostly. But here are a few lessons gleaned from our visit that are not related to food:

--the French are still poufs, no matter what era they hail from

--being stuck in the gallows for thieving, and exclaiming to the magistrate, "Honestly, Sir, I don't know how those chickens got into my jerkin!" won't help you get out on parole. Likewise, it is counter-productive to be stuck in the gallows for being a lech, and have your protesting go like this: "Sir, I am not a lech, I love my wife and...hey, baby, what are you and those two best friends of yours doing after the joust tonight?"

--be worried when your wife is enjoying the weapons shops far too much, and is seriously contemplating purchasing a set of throwing knives. Or alternately, don't be worried, and if she buys them, realise that from here on in, it's probably a safe idea to let her win all the subsequent arguments you ever have.

--smartasses in the audience will get dunked in the lake for being smartasses

--nothing beats hanging out at the end of the day with all the Renfair Players, who, still in character, sing, carouse and drink. Now bear in mind, in order to drink, you have to present ID and wear a bright pink bracelet. By the end of the day, over three-quarters of the players in the pub were wearing those bracelets. Ah, sweet, sweet ale!


Today's Lesson: when you go the Ranfair, wear sunscreen. Please. (ow, my ears...and forehead...and neck....)


posted by Phillip at 3:32 PM