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 bane of Mel's existence has been granted an extention on its infernal life. Our Head Office decided that they wanted two more weeks of our winterwear kiosk being in the mall. Of course, it would have been nice to have been notified of this, oh, earlier than 3 days before the kiosk was originally going to close.

Thanks, Head Office. Way to be on the ball.

Blind luck that everyone currently working at the kiosk is still available and more than happy to carry on for another 2 weeks. Unlike one of the other mall kiosks, where they got the same message only after everyone else working there had procured other jobs.

In the meantime, Mel is grumpy because she was so looking forward to setting the kiosk on fire this Sunday, and now she'll just have to wait. Even more/worse, rumours are now abounding that our Head Office wants to try and make it a permanent kiosk in the mall. At this rate, Mel may never get to exact her heavenly retribution.

Mel: "'Heavenly retribution'? Does that make me an angel now?"

Chaos: "Not really. I was more referring to the Old Testament standard of it raining down hellfire and brimstone whenever God got really pissed off at someone."

Mel: [sulking] "I like being an angel better."

Chaos: "Yeah, me too. We'd be able stuff our own pillows with down from your wings!"

Mel: [grrr!!] "Speaking of hellfire and brimstone...."


And in closing, we leave you with Today's Chaos:





posted by Phillip at 5:23 PM

 


And upon seeing this update, all of you out there are no doubt doing the following things in probably this order:

1) gasping in surprise at seeing the update
2) smiling as you anticipate reading the update
3) thinking to yourself, "it's about bloody time you updated, you tit!"

Perhaps you've actually used the insult "tit". Perhaps you've substituted it with another insult. Either way, you were thinking it, weren't you?

Quite a few momentous events have transpired since the last little bit of nowhere. For starters, Commercialmas came and went. Much ado about family and presents were had, with Gary crashing at the apartment for a few nights, and Shady spending her holidays out with my sister. There were books and DVDs and clothes, and Mel made off like a bandit with no less than 4 DVD boxsets, 3 of them being Anime. And despite being physically next to her when she bought almost all of her Christmas presents for me over the course of the past year, I completely forgot what they all were, and was happily surprised by each gift I unwrapped. Mel spent a lot of that time rolling her eyes and shaking her head at me.

All in all, I think the best thing about Christmas was the fact that I had two days off in a row. It's happened maybe once since the summer. And with the November & December leading up to Christmas, I could have counted all my days off on two hands and still had leftover fingers capable of making obscene gestures at customers exiting my store.

Days off are good. Days off are happy. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to sit back and spend an entire day relaxing and not having to really think about a "To Do" list.

Naturally, all this had to come to a crashing end with two horrifying words: paint thinner. No, I'm just kidding. Paint thinner, no matter what story it might be a part of, is a much less horrifying thing than Boxing Day. (Unless the words paint thinner and fatality were used in the same sentence, in which case it might be able to rival most Boxing Day horror stories I've listend to in the past few years.)

Boxing Day arrived, and I found myself calm but also not having the slightest clue what to expect. The last two BD's were spent in a kiosk most everyone else ignored; this time around, I was in a store people would probably want to visit...unless I adopted Aziraphale's corporate policy involving customer service. Much to my surprise and relief, a good portion of Boxing Day was spent with me in the back, prepping paperwork; and the rest of my assembled staff idling around, trying not to look or feel so bored. I consider it a good day if I did not have to swallow any of the cyanide capsules thoughtfully given to us by Head Office.

(Actually, given how busy the day after Boxing Day was, I think most people were thinking, "Everyone's going to be at the mall on Boxing Day. It'll be so crowded and unpleasant. But I'll show them! I'll go and check out all the sales the day after Boxing Day, when the crowds are thinned out. Ha ha! I'm so brilliant! I can't believe no one else has thought of this before!" Yes indeed, good people, way to be unpredictable and crazy like a gnat.)

This brings us to a week spent down in Connecticut with Mel's family--ironically, also the exact same time Sean Gaffney spent leaving his home in Connecticut to hang out in Toronto. And don't worry; my family checked in on Chance daily to feed and keep him company, and my sister tok care of Shady while we were gone.

Mel wasn't kidding when she said her family's into Christmas: some serious giftage ensued whilst down in the States. A mostly-empty 26" suitcase with expandable (that means "make bigger") options, an empty duffle bag and an empty friggin-huge-tote-bag were brought along. Why do I mention these? Because when Mel & I left Connecticut, all three of these bags were heavy and ready to explode at the seams with booty. (A fact which my neck and shoulder muscles are still painfully reminding me of to this day.)

In terms of clothes, I got new everything-except-for-socks. My wardrobe almost doubled. Mel's doubled and then some. I was also the very pleased recipient of the Fraggle Rock season 1 DVD--which has three of my all-time, favourite episodes involving a haunted tunnel that eats Fraggles, a rather malicious poltergeist trapped within a treacherous maze, and Jim Henson performing as the leader of a troupe of minstrels. (Quick! Sesame Street moment! Which one of those episodes is not like the others?)

I also scored 2 more Blade of the Immortal books. I'm now one shy of owning the entire series thus far released. Despite how cool the series is, this isn't really special unto itself. However, I've bought or acquired over thirteen tankobans of Blade thus far...and never had to pay full price for a single one of them. I'm almost leery of getting the missing book, since I'll probably have to pay the full price for it, and that would just ruin the uniqueness of it all.

But enough waxing ecstatic. What about CT itself, you ask. What strange and silly adventures were had down there? To be truthful, most of the time spent in the States was uneventful. Mel & I took a bus round-trip. That's a total of 13 hours...one way. It wasn't all that bad: the seats were comfortable, we travelled overnight so I slept most of the journey, and at the border the guards barely even looked at either of us. Which I take a teeny bit of insult too. Expecting to get our luggage frisked, I immediately hauled our 26" suitcase onto the large metal table, just in time to hear the guard say, "Okay, you're good. Go on." What, that's it? I do all that work, and the second I'm ready to go, I get waved aside?

I know, I know: I can't complain. It could have been much worse. Like the poor bastard who was bringing wrapped Christmas presents down to his family. The guards unwrapped each present with all the dignity and carefulness of Ebichu washing her mistress' panties. Poor guy....

So how did Mel & I barely get noticed? Mel argues it was her cuteness. She turned it on like a ray gun, and they were powerless against it. I can only shrug and assume it was her cuteness that got us through the border so easily. I've seen her wield it like a weapon before. If we ever unleashed her in Japan, no otaku would be able to resist her demands. (Or else it could have been her bosoms. That might have counted for something too.)

However, the trip to CT was not all good either. If ever there was an argument to getting yourself an iPod, it happened about two hours into the trip. The people sitting behind us had spent a good deal of time psycho-analyzing their friend, Rene. Then out came the Bible. Then came the witnessing and the tears. (The latter was all mine, and not in a good, saintly kind of way.)

Now I am someone who has a great deal of faith. I'm not one to openly proclaim it, or tout it whenever the chance arises. In fact, my faith is very personal and very private, and as such I'm rather picky about when to discuss it. Hence my inner self wincing whenever I hear someone go into the usual Christianese banter.

I dislike people spouting beliefs they haven't properly examined, researched or thought about. I loathe debates where people toss around words without context, or concepts they mistakenly assume others know about. And I detest someone who has a very poor grasp of any sort of theology, and tries to pass their shallow thoughts off as scholarly. (If you don't know or understand it, then dammit, be brave enough to admit it and open enough to hear out and examine someone else's ideas on the matter.)

The guy behind me embodied all of these. And with no real means of tuning out the conversation, my brain spent a greater part of an hour hurting. I've never been so happy to have the announcement made that we're about to reach the border.

Our time down in CT was spent mostly lounging, and me taking sporadic advantage of sale-priced manga. Mel's mother also took us to New York. My impressions of New York? Well, it's a lot like Toronto, only they look nothing alike. Really. New York just felt like a bigger, busier version of Toronto...with a lot more pretentious stores. Also, New York has the broadway musical "Spamalot" playing (with Tim Curry playing King Arthur, no less). Toronto does not.

Something must be done about this grave injustice.

Incidentally, Tiffany's has false advertizing on their stairwells. For those unenlightened, Tiffany's is this epic multi-floored jewellry store where most of the merchandize would cost you both your first- and second-borne children as a down-payment. (Mel would like to add here: it has lots of pretty sparklies!) Now, if you want to get from one floor to another in Tiffany's, there are two ways of going about this task. You can take the stairs. Or you can take the elevators, in which case you are still going to take the stairs after waiting for 10 minutes and still not having moved an inch in the elevator waiting line.

For example, Mel wanted to look at some of the precious stones on the second floor, i.e. diamonds. Now, like most people, we assumed that the second floor was located right above the ground level. Right?

Wrong.

First, you have to walk from the ground floor, up not one, but two flights of stairs to the S floor. No, I don't have any idea what the hell the 'S' stands for. Probably 'sadistic bastards', but I didn't ask. Now from there, you go up another two flights of stairs, where upon you've reached the M floor. What happened to the other letters of the alphabet? How the hell should I know; we all were having trouble breathing properly at this point. And then there's only one flight of stairs (Thank you, God! Thank you!) up to the 2nd floor...which really is the 4th floor, when you think about it.

One more anecdote about New York. More about taking the train up to New York, actually. Think back to the title of this little bit of nowhere for a moment. You didn't think the bus ride was the end of it, did you? I swear, it only happened whenever we were using public transportation going place. (Coming back, though, we were happily unscathed.)

Mel, myself and her family all sat together in a group of seats at the front of one of the train cars. And across the aisle from us sat down two middle-aged ladies. What ensued over the two-hour journey was an hour-and-a-half recounting in gratuitous, play by play detail of how one of these ladies brought three different people "to the Lord" over the course of a bus or train ride earlier that week. Refer to that earlier paragraph regarding what really irks me about thoughful, theological discussions that lack any real thought or theology.

Mercifully(?), the last half hour was spent listening to these ladies discuss rather graphically disturbing physical maladies involving horomones, surgery and oozing bodily fluids. It's a sad day when that is the lesser of two evil conversations.

And that more or less sums up our time in CT. New Years was spent getting pretty pissed by downing shots of Sicilian Kisses (which features Amaretto and mostly Southern Comfort) and bottles of Corona.

So now it's early January. The holiday is over. The holidays are over. The crowds are gone, and the malls have grown quiet once more. I walked back into a store that looked like FEMA had tried (and failed) to maintain damage control while I was gone, learned that three different levels of hell had broken loose in my absence; and that while everyone was overjoyed to have me back and bringing order to the anarchy, I'd probably be forbidden from being away from the store for such a duration ever again, and if I was, there'd probably be mass weeping and gnashing of teeth.

But the store looks good again. It took 5 days, but it's all completed. The winter kiosk (bane of Mel's existence) will be closing down the end of next week. Ideally, I won't be getting hounded by relentless calls at home from the store or kiosk anymore. In short, things are looking up. Don't believe me? Well, here's proof of how the year really couldn't be off to a better start, despite all the proverbial fires I had to put out last week:







And that's pretty much it.

Oh, you insist, but shouldn't there be more to this little bit of nowhere? It's 2006, is it not? Shouldn't there be resolutions, committments, promises I make with the fullest of intentions to not even bother remembering? Hmm, now that you mention it...

Resolution #1: no matter how many times I may think otherwise, I must acknowledge that I am not a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania. Proclaiming otherwise, especially in front of customers in the store, is counter-productive to my paychecks.

Resolution #2: I will try to remember that Miracle Whip, no matter how vulgar a taste it has, is still a viable condiment, and has a place alongside real mayonnaise on the grocery shelves. I will also try not to angrily chase other grocery shoppers down the bulk foods aisle, proclaiming I must exercise the demons from them, for they are obviously possessed if they think Miracle Whip is better than Hellmans.

Resolution #3: I will stop Googling myself.

Resolution #4: I will find the time to write that Buckbeak/Ford Angela HP lemon I once threatened Nightbreak with, just because I can, dammit!

Resolution #5: I will stop myself from indulging my inner sadist, and refrain from watching Boku no Sexual Harrassment, no matter how good a riff I think I've devised for the corn cob scene.

Resolution #6: I will try (emphasis on the 'try') to write a Confic that is less than 50 pages in length. Maybe.

Resolution #7: at Mel's request, I will not wear my Puchuu hat out in public. Conversely, I will wear my pants out in public.

Resolution #8: should we buy a hamster this year, I will not name it Ebichu, and I will certainly not let it wash the laundry.


Mel has just informed me that she also has some New Year's resolutions for me, and would like them to be included here, so others can help remind me of them whenever I seem to be slacking off...

Resolution #1: buy Mel-chan sparklies
Resolution #2: buy Mel-chan sparklies
Resolution #3: buy Mel-chan sparklies
Resolution #4: buy Mel-chan sparklies
Resolution #5: buy Mel-chan sparklies

No, I'm serious. She said this was what all my resolutions should be. And each resolution could easily be for a different sparklie. What can I say? Mel-chan likes her sparklies. And so long as I can scrounge up the money for it, hey, I'm all for completing at least one of them.


Today's Lesson: spelling the word 'proselytize' is a hell of a lot harder than saying it.
posted by Phillip at 8:30 PM