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 post-Commercialmas OMG seems to have run its course, and I of course (am not a horse...unless you're referring to Chinese zodiacs, in which case I am a horse...of course) have only begun to start the inevitable clean-up of the store. While everything out front has been spiffy-fied (spiffified? Spellchecker seems to hate both these hybrids. But meh, it also hates pyjamallama, so what does it know?), the back stockroom looks like something unpleasant exploded all over it.

My best simile comparison would put the stockroom's state of affairs somewhere between "what your house looked like after your teenaged kids threw a wild, high-school party that eventually involved the police" and "not respectible in the slightest".

There's also a growing mound of paperwork to eventually whittle away at. Next week. Or so the rumour mill has it.

But enough of that. There was enough Emo-mas (ooh! Another new vocabulary mutation!) hype all December. It's January now, a new year to boot, and so here they are: my new year's resolutions.

For everyone else.

You see, I've decided that self-resolutions are ultimately overrated (like pants) and in the end vastly depressing since we always seem to make personal resolutions we either have trouble keeping or fail at within a few months. This only leads to a cycle of self-doubt and loathing. The natural solution and obvious course of action is for us...and by "us" I mean "me"...to make resolutions for everyone else! That way, you can indulge in all the righteous anger over failed resolutions without all that pesky self-guilt.




1) everyone must bow before my obvious splendiforousness and inherent sexiness. It doesn't have to be literal, mind you. I'll accept public and/or online declarations relating to how magnificent I am, and how the world is a better place for me being there. One could go so far as to argue the world was created specifically for me, and spent all this time attempting to perfect itself for my arrival...in which case, I'm still slightly disappointed that there are no giant robots for me to pilot.

2) everyone must adopt my policy of "pants being overrated" at least once a month. Now granted, it might be a particularly cold month...not that you'd have guessed by December's lacklustre performance...and for those months, you can practice your "no-pants policy" indoors.

3) "pyjamallama" must be recognized as a viable word in Webster's English Dictionary.

4) the Evidence Mice must be brought to justice.

5) someone must invent a giant robot for me to pilot. (And no, Sailor Gundam is not an acceptable mecha.)


There are other resolutions out there, I'm sure, but I'll add them to this little bit of nowhere as the capricious whims come to me. In the meanwhile, I encourage you to make your resolutions for the general masses. Just remember: worship my splendiforousness must be there. My ego demands it!

And cookies! My ego demands cookies!

Aaaaah, the new year is already off to a productive start...

Today's Lesson: it's harder than you think to kill off an entire cast of characters. Unless you're Joss Whedon.
posted by Phillip at 8:55 PM

 


So far, the new year is shaping up to be a significant improvement over what I saw yesterday. Ah, sunshine, how I have missed you. I would comment how seeing you instils multi-orgasmic rays of sunshine in my stomach, but that sounds both redunant and scary. (As far as the Discovery Channel has told me, orgasms are not yet solar-powered.)

Last night was spent in the company of a few movies, a lot of alcohol and the beginnings of a hangover I am happy to say is currently just a mild nuisance of a headache. This morning was spent in the company of Mel, who had curled up into me (and pinning my arm beneath her in the process) and our Shih-tzu on the other side of me...hogging my entire pillow. While I love Shady to pieces, I don't exactly rank "waking up to a dog's furry butt in my face" high on my list of boy, isn't this a great way to start the day?

Anyhoo, I look forward to this year with great optimism. Fics will come to a close, stories may begin anew, The Project whilst being pushed back slightly is still on track, and the theory goes that the mall will be suddenly find itself akin to a ghost town. At least in comparison to last week, which was almost as busy if not busier than the week before Commercialmas.

As a result, I really must classify last week as: monkeyfuckbutter bad. Now bear in mind monkeyfuckbutter needs to be read and taken as a whole, since dividing it up into its three component nouns sounds a lot like something you get when you're about to lose at a game of Google Seppuku. But as a whole entity, monkeyfuckbutter is a great, spontaneous vulgarity
you can both impress your friends and horrify your parents with.

In other news, the following conversation transpired a few days ago as Mel & I ventured into a random Walmart:

Mel: "Wow, this place is identical to the one in Brantford."

Me:"I'll say. You can't tell the two apa--oooh, cookies!!"

[Cue me suddenly veering off to a giant wall display of cookies.]

Mel: [sigh!] "You are such an idiot."


Today's Lesson: the coolest explosions in the universe are the ones we'll never see. (Stupid millisecond-pulsars...)
posted by Phillip at 8:07 AM