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!

 



In an inevitable yet highly amusing weekend not so long ago, Potterdammerung slammed into the HP fanbase with great pomp and the sound of wank hitting the fan. I somehow managed to dodge any and all spoilers on Deathly Hallows…mostly by avoiding the Interwebs altogether. Which is perhaps just as well, since I got to experience a few days where, as far as I was concerned, random spambots--er, people were not Emailing me to discuss the size of my penis or insist I attend DeVry University.

A week has now passed, and the final book in the Harry Potter septology (is that even a valid word?) sits on the coffee table, its covers closed and its pages read. In a completely avoiding of spoilers sorta way, I really enjoyed the book. It had many unexpected turns and Rowling didn’t pull many punches.

But you didn’t come here for a book report, did you? Thusly I would like to present:





1) The last of Voldemort’s Horcruxes was not the One Ring (though it would be pretty cool to see who would win in a fight: Dementors or Nazgul?)

2) during the last climactic battle, Severus Snape did not suddenly remove his face, revealing that it had actually been IMF agent Tom Cruise the entire time, and would Voldemort like to hear about the Church of Scientology?

3) Snape was not in fact a vampire. Nor was Draco a Cylon. Nor was Harry a naughty tentacle monster. Nor was Ron a sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania.

4) Guest appearances were not made by any of the following individuals, alas: (Captain) Jack Sparrow, Sephiroth, Mork, Indiana Jones, Marty MyFly, Piglet or Egon Spengler.

5) Rocks did not fall and everyone did not die. (But half the fandom did implode. Joy?)


And in other news…um, in other news…

Let’s not sugarcoat it: work hasn’t exactly been on the “happy fuzzy puppies frolicking in the afternoon sunshine” side of things. There’s no need to go into great details (lest perhaps this be used against me as potential motives if/when some employees mysteriously go missing), but suffice to say I’m saddened, angered and generally baffled by how much junior high drama seems to manifest itself in a store filled with people decidedly not in junior high.

The rather caustic phrase, “Remind me again why I love my job?” seems to be repeated more and more often lately. That and, “Why oh why am I not allowed to arbitrarily use tasers on anyone who vexes me?”

Last week’s entire Chernobylesque situation was not helped by the peculiar ailment that seized upon me Thursday and didn’t loose it’s figurative, perhaps even literal, grip on me until the end of the weekend. I use the word “ailment” because I’m not entirely sure if what happened could be described as either an injury or else a malady (though it’s safely neither vegetable nor mineral).

You see, when I woke up on Friday morning, me entire chest was filled with an incredible amount of unpleasantness. I felt horribly sore all over and was nauseated to the point of making a brief gagging and then following that up with a great deal of bile and stomach acid. I keep telling Le Dieu De Porcelain that I’ve already paid homage to His Whimsicalness this summer, but he won’t hear anything about it.

By now, you’re certainly wondering just what afflicted me (and probably wishing my little bits of nowhere wouldn’t always let you know every little time I must vomit), and the truth is I’m not sure myself. I could eat well enough, and aside from the initial upchuck session that morning, I was fine gastronomically-speaking. My entire chest, the abdomen area especially, was still remarkably sore.

Much to my bewilderment and chagrin, I can only come up with one possible, working explanation: despite being asleep, I spent a greater part of Thursday night flexing my abs. You may laugh at your leisure.






Better now?

Okay. Back to the abs: spending the entire night subconsciously flexing my six-pack so far is the only reasonable (though silly) explanation I can come up with. As the days passed, the soreness subsided, but it definitely wasn’t the stomach, nor was it some sort of bizarre flu.

Granted this does beg the question: why did I feel the inherent need to tone my figure while I slept? Is my subconscious telling me that my definition is failing, and thusly my bringing-sexyback-o-meter is starting to crash? Was I suffering from a nightmare where I was trapped in a gym, and the beefcake trainer felt I had not felt enough pain/gain? Or did I just really have to pee?

Such mysteries may never be solved. Even still, I really don’t want to repeat that again in the near future. Or far future. Or alternate future, for that matter…unless it meant I’d wake up with sore abs, but I’d get my own Gundam for my troubles.

But that’s not to say everything has been absolutely horrible the last while. The Project has gained some surprising momentum, much to my delight (and fear that the over shoe will fall, and it’ll all come grinding to another halt). Mel and I have also been binging on Battlestar Galactica, which for better/worse means there’s another DVD series to add to the “buy” list.

And an impromptu raid on the nearest library branch ended with me securing the first 5 tankobans of Claymore. And as an added bonus, I got to reaffirm my love for both Alice Cooper and Neil Gaiman courtesy of their collaborative graphic novel The Last Temptation. My love of Ray Bradbury was also rekindled, since this is right in the vein of Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Which reminds me: no more going into bookstores. My empty wallet sighs in relief, but my heart cries when I see more intriguing books to add to the “buy” list. (And more to the point, titles not in our library yet.)

All right then, what have we learned so far in this blog? Aside from creepy facts & dysfunctions about my physiology? Hmm…you’re right. We’ve learned absolutely nothing. Oh well, it’s not all that bad. I could have spent this entire blog asking you if you wanted to increase your penis size, or would you like to enrol in DeVry University, or perhaps you’d like to hear more about the Church of Scientology?




Today’s Surprise Discovery: the series pilot for the Stargate SG-1 TV series has full frontal nudity in it. I have to wonder if/how that got past the censor boards when it was picked up for broadcast. (Mel’s still lamenting about how it wasn’t Michael Shanks who was fully frontal, which makes me wonder if, after seeing that the man does have a better six-pack than me, dammit, that’s what set off my subconscious.)

Labels: Harry Potter book 7 ridiculousness, more reasons to quietly continue the job search, nocturnal ab crunching

posted by Phillip at 5:16 AM