If A Manager Relaxes In A Jacuzzi,
And There Are no Customers Around To Bug Him,
Are they Still Asshats?
(Hint: the answer is "yes." It will always be "yes.")
So I'm here at Kevin & Donna's place, marvelling at the massive Duplo creation I have made and wondering how long it will survive once Gabezilla discovers it tomorrow morning. I give my creation 10 seconds. Mel tells me I'm being optimistic amidst rolling along a katamari ball. And somewhere in all this, the "director's cut" Confic will be finished up, leaving Kevin & I to slice about twenty odd pages from the script.
Yep, as you've all no doubt guessed, we're in Brantford once more. It feels like only yesterday we were here. In fact...it
was only yesterday we were here. Not at Kevin & Donna's, mind you, but with other family members. Carly & Jorret were house-sitting for his family. And by house-sitting, I mean: "it's a huge friggin' house out in the countryside with satellite, an outdoor jacuzzi tub and a kitchen that makes me cry with envy every time I gaze upon it."
I love that house.
And happily enough, Mel & I got to spend the whole weekend there. It's not often I get full weekends off. If I'm lucky, I manage to squeeze in the once-a-month alloted Saturday off I'm entitled to. Blind luck the one I booked off for myself happened to be the same weekend they were house-sitting.
The entire weekend was spent doing very little of anything...and I don't think I've ever truly appreciated that to its full potential until now. There was no running around, no major errands, no parties, and notably for me no writing despite the presence of my laptop. And yet, I was still very happy just to sit back and listen to the sound of the rain outside. And Shady & her brother Sinatra racing across the dining room, their little claws click-clacking away on the wooden floor moments before the little fuzzbutts tumbled into each other and resumed their wrestling match.
I also discovered that for some inexplicable reason, I seem to be genetically resistant to tequilla. I'm not sure why, but despite it being a very nice 80-proof, $60 bottle brought back from Mexico, after six shots I wasn't even feeling a buzz. (Which, to my amusement, boggled Jorrit to no end. "How the hell can you just slam it back and then walk away like nothing's wrong?" was the remark that amused me the most, which was followed up by, "You don't even do the salt or lime thing afterwards! Did you even swallow any of that, or just toss the contents over your shoulder?"
So I'm a hardass when it comes to tequilla.
Naturally this means I can get plastered pretty easily on other shooters, and mixed drinks will do notable damage to my psyche (and ability to wear pants) only after a few glasses. *Sigh* There is no justice in this world.
In other news, I have just discovered that our store's annual "check every bloody thing in the bloody store" inventory from hell will be in three weeks' time, on May 16th. All I have to say to Head Office is:
Today's Lesson: the world would be a much better place if everyone took 15 minutes each day to recline in a Jacuzzi, listen to their favourite music and momentarily forget about the rest of the world. Barring that, the world would be a much better place if I could take 15 minutes each day to recline in a Jacuzzi with my favourite music. In fact, the world would be fantastic if I could do that without pants either! (Though I'm sure I'd look silly wearing pants in a Jacuzzi to begin with.) And of course, the world would be perfect if Mel were in the Jacuzzi with me, and she was wearing absolutely nothing else to go with her own lack of pants.
Ah, bliss...
(Yeah, I know I'm going to be hurt mightily once she reads this. But shhhh...let me enjoy the moment while it lasts.)
posted by Phillip at 7:42 PM
