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!

 


Ah, Friday the 13th: that superstitiously dreaded of days when you are forced to think twice about being a drunken, overly-hormonal (and probably hot-sexxoring) summer camp student and/or counsellor. Because, as we all know, hot sexxors and booze just brings out all the homicidal undead crazies.

I'd otherwise argue that an interesting premise would feature such a thing happening at, oh, say a nunnery, where theoreticall sexxors and booze never happen. And as such our homicidal undead maniac would be left waiting in a visitor's chair and reading a magazine from six years ago, until someone finally gave him reason to show off his Ginsu skills...but then again, I've seen a nunsploitation film or two. Naked For Satan, anyone?

Which reminds me: a while back, I was mentioning that exact silly-sounding title to my cousin. And in the process of 20 minutes we'd come up with at least eight equally silly-assed sounding sequels. Most of which I've forgotten. But there was Naked For Satan 2: Naked Harder. And Naked For Satan 3: The Nakeding.

Oh...where was I again?

Ah yes: this past Friday the 13th. Now I am not by nature a superstitious person. Most superstitions stem back to either Puritan antics (black cat = witches' familiar = said cat crossing your path means a witch is going to turn you into a newt = burn her! Burn the witch!) or else common sense (opening an umbrella indoors in close quarters means the expanding canopy is going to knock over that vase, which will inevitably lead to hot sexxors, and that's only going to psychically incite the homicidal undead maniac into a frenzy).

However, this past Friday has left me wondering if there isn't a little bit of credence to the whole worry. Or if this was just an unbelievable amount of Murphy's Law kicking us in the ass. As Mel, myself and a visiting Gary pull into our apartment complex, something unexpected happens: the fire alarm goes off.

This is the first time it's ever gone off. Sure, you hear smoke detectors in individual apartments go off every now and again, but that's localized. There's never in the past 4 years been an instance where the alarm itself goes off. Naturally our building superintendent freaked.

So, with armloads of groceries, Gary & I trudged back outdoors, joining the ever-growing masses of confused apartment dwellers on the front lawn. At least we managed to camp out one of the shaded areas. Meanwhile, Mel retrieved a petrified Shady--and was left to shake her head at Chance's incredible "disappearing ninja" skills. It's good to know that in a crisis, our cat will go into hiding and never be found. Sigh....

A half hour and a few fire trucks later, everything was deemed safe. Apparently a smeghead maliciously pulled the 2nd floor fire alarm and then buggered off. While I can't say I'm thrilled with their stupidity, it is better than the fiery alternative.

But all of that's done and gone, and Mel has spent the last day or two squeeing happily over the return of the Tachikomas in the Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex movie, Solid State Society. And more to the point, she demanded I buy her the working mini-Tachikoma robot they built as a promo for the movie. (If you get the DVD, it's featured in one of the extra bits.)

Anyone have a spare $10,000 lying around?

Today's Lesson: there is nothing quite so disconcerting as using the bathroom, only to find your cat sitting in the middle of the empty bathtub...staring intently at you the entire time.

Labels: fire alarms, Friday th 13th, naked for blog tags, Tachikoma cuteness for the win

posted by Phillip at 9:24 PM

 


I have discovered that persisting to eat those garlic-flavoured chips is akin to gastro-intestinal masochism. With each passing attempt to consume them during my lunch, my stomach has grown increasingly rebellious, nauseous and in all likelihood emo. (If digestive tracts had a MySpace account, I'd have whining poetry to contend with...but at least it wouldn't be Vogon.)

So in short: I am swearing off those garlic-flavoured chips.

But on the plus side, they were nothing like Herbert the Vomit-Inducing And Probably Undercooked Street Dog I had a few days ago. Especially in the Waterloo area, there are hotdog vendors selling their wares on the sidewalks. And I'm not sure why I was deemed to be the butt of the cosmic joke du jour, but after 3-4 hours of eating that hotdog, unpleasantness ensued. Repeatedly.

At the risk of going into rather graphic medical-sounding detail, it's been a long time since I've gotten to the point where all I have left to offer the good ol' porcelain god is bland stomach acid. And I'm really hoping that doesn't happen again for a very very long time, such as forever.


In other news, I have a slight issue with the weather as of late. Not that it's been too humid, nor hot nor rainy. Quite the contrary, in fact. Why is it that whenever thunderstorms develop and rage across the skies...I don't get to see any of them?

In the last year, I have been able to see perhaps one, maybe two, of the many thunderstorms this area has experienced. Half the time I'm stuck in the store on a solo shift, and at best I can look up at the mall skylights & marvel at how black the clouds are. But do I get to see all that spectacular lightning? Nope. And the thunder? It just sounds like a hiccup in maintenance's scissor lift.

To add to the insult, the weather fronts actually seem to chance radically between where I work and where I live. And this is where the vile thunderstorm conspiracy becomes blatantly obvious. Across town at work, it could be a clear, mild day. At the apartment, it's pouring down rain and lightning is causing Shady to cower behind the toilet. But once my shift's done...sorry, that storm has moved on.

And if I'm at home and able to stand out on the balcony and enjoy the lightshow...we get rain and that's it. Menawhile, off in the far distance I can see the black stormclouds and hear the thunder rumbling ominously. But does the storm swing this way? Nope, it veers off, as if my body odour was somehow that bad as to completely displace weather patterns.

(Hmmm...I wonder if I could promote that idea into an Axe deoderant spray commercial?)

I swear, they've formed a fraternity with the single purpose of keeping me from enjoying their show. Like a No Homers club, except they probably allow Homers in this one. Just not me. (The Evidence Mice are somehow behind this, mark my words!)

I'm not asking for much, just the chance to see some really cool thunderstorms every now and again. And now that I've said this, knowing my luck I'll get to witness one right after a tornado rips the roof off the mall. But not to worry, I've got my emergency goggles for such a thing.

In the meanwhile, the Project makes good progress, Mel is pleased to be cheating on me with Link, and if all fares well I can finally indulge my inner geek and see the Transformers movie in the next day or two.

Today's Lesson: DVDs inevitably go on mega-sales when you have no money, if not the for the sole purpose of taunting you with their sudden low-purchasing ability that you still can't afford.

Labels: gastro-intestinal masochism, the conspiracy where thunderstorms go off without me

posted by Phillip at 10:23 PM