Open Fish Market-Scented Purses
("Mmmm...smells like Chinatown!")
I wish I was kidding.
Alas, we are currently in the possession of purses that smell like fish that have been out in the afternoon sun of an open market for perhaps one hour too long. All attempts to dispel the scent or air the purses out has been met with failure. I've sent 2 employees into the back stockroom. They haven't returned. The smell either caused them to pass out or drove them insane. (And it the latter is the case, then that explains the peculiar scufflings I've heard from somewhere above the ceiling tiles of our store.)
All in all, I can do without raw fish-scented fashion accessories. Bring back the toffee-scented pencil cases, or the chocolate-scented backpacks! Those at least I could enjoy sniffing!
In other news...there's an update! Huzzah!
You know, it's not my fault this little bit of nowhere took longer than expected to appear before you today. Every time I sat down to do...well, anything...unexpected occurences took place. Like sex (which is a good thing), or Mel discovering that some SOB tried to siphon gas from our car (which is only a good thing if we manage to greet this idiot's kneecaps with a ball peen hammer), or 16 straight hours of me being nowhere near our home (which is a good thing no matter how much my wallet weeps in the aftermath).
And just to quickly clarify on the gas thing: as far as we can tell, they barely got any gas from Mel's tank. The incident itself happened a few days ago, and appears isolated. At least for our car. But it's rather disconcerting to discover the flap open and the cover popped off, especially coming on the heels of a neighbour's really sweet motorcycle getting stolen from the underground parking space next to us too. So in terms of how we're doing, we're looking at a special locking cover, and I'm lifting weights so I can put more force behind the ball peen hammer.
(Mel tells me my toothpick arms are too scrawny to get enough inertia behind them. It's at times like this that I've never been so grateful to be on her good side.)
But on a more pleasant note, Mel would like to thank everyone for their birthday wishes.
Mel: ^-^ "Arigato!"
All in all, much fun was had by all involved.
Kenshin DVD box sets and
Card Captor Sakura artbooks were unwrapped. Curses involving bodily orifices and impossibly large objects were made (repeatedly) at whatever idiot decided to trigger the fire alarm at 3am. Food was eaten. Milkshakes and green tea ice cream were enjoyed. My hands were smacked for trying to graze on Mel's leftovers after I'd polished off my own entree. And I cried tears (manly tears, I tell you! Don't make me go all Emoblog on you again!) at the empty contents of my wallet as I stared at a wall in HMV which had a bunch of
Full Metal Alchemist DVDs as part of the "2 for $30" sale.
In other news, I have been reunited with an old friend: my leather jacket. I'm starting to understand Spike's affinity to his leather trenchcoat. After having worn a very nice and very thick Columbia winter coat (a Commercialmas present from Mel's mother) for the last three months, last week I decided it was time to return to my old comrade.
There was something altogether cool as I slid my arms through the sleeves and let the jacket's weight settle onto my shoulders. It truly felt like I'd rediscovered something I'd all but lost and forgotten about. It seems sickeningly sentimental, I know, but bear in mind I've had this coat for going on a decade now. It's been a part of my life and my personality for nigh ten years, so I think it's earned that much.
And this brings us to
Today's Lesson: happiness is donning your leather jacket once more.
There's not much else to say here without getting into nit-picky banalities...which leaves me to sit here, pondering how the group
Panic At The Disco! sounds a lot like a contemporary version of
The Smiths. (Which would be rather amusing, considering how
The Smiths' song "Panic" discusses the burning down of a disco. And if a mob of people laying seige to your establishment doesn't cause the patrons of a disco to panic, then obviously I want more of whatever they've spiked their tea with.)
posted by Phillip at 6:31 PM
