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!

 




Part 1: Vain And Glorious Back-Story


There is a sudden and unexpected beep on your online radar. This little bit of nowhere has updated. I can assure you this sort of transgression won’t happen again. We’ll try harder to go at least a month between entries.

Just kidding…in theory.

Mind you, it certainly hasn’t been for a lack of wanting to leap onto a computer and tell you all about the fine, fine, fine world of retail in all its last-minute, “they just took the pencil case my kid wanted, and it’s the last one, so I’ll beat them to death with their own severed arm!”, Back To School glory. Unfortunately, no beatings-with-a-severed-arm happened. It certainly would have made for a colourful incident report, to say nothing of the phone call I’d have to make to Head Office:

Me: “Hello, I’d like to order a special carpet cleaning for our store.”

Head Office: “Why do you want to do that?”

Me: “Well, that blood pool’s not going to lather itself out.”

Head Office: “What…did you say blood pool?!”

Me: “Oh relax, it’s not mine. Now it looks like the police will release our store from being a crime scene sometime in the next forty-eight hours, so is it cool if I call the cleaners for then?”

Head Office: “Uh…”

Me: “Oh, that reminds me: does blood wash out of suitcases, or should I just damage to dozen or so out?”

Head Office: “Wh-what?”

Me: “Well, you’d be amazed at the spray radius a severed arm can produce. It splattered across three rows of luggage and a family of four before the arterial spray finally died down.”

Head Office: “What in God’s name happened at your store, and are you clinically insane?!”

Me: “Not yet, but I’m definitely filing for workman’s comp after this. Mental trauma is a valid reason to go on leave, right?”


While this is more than a little hyperbolic, as I have yet to see any sorts of severed limbs involved in a retail store (though Black Fridays at the US Walmarts seem to come very close at times, from what I hear), it’s not all that far from the truth. There were scores of families in on the Labour Day weekend, apparently with nothing better to do than freak out at the last minute and buy all their kids’ school supplies. (And in the process whine about how all the selections everywhere was already cut in half.)

Mel & I spent most of our long weekend working like mad as we cleaned the store, helped customers, cleaned the store again, helped more customers, cleaned the store yet again, “and so it goes” to splice in a little Vonnegut.

The Labour Day Monday was spent mostly reclining with some anime and the company of Gary. And the ensuing Tuesday and Wednesday were no less taxing. Between the first-week rush of people exchanging supplies and me needing to prep the store for my impending 5-day absence, I barely had time to breathe.

To say the least, I spent more time in our apartment plunked down on the sofa or bed and collecting dust. Our kitchen, while clean, was horribly neglected to boot. (And as a sidenote: at this moment in time, the thought of home-cooked meals makes me almost want to cry tears of joy, given how much fast food & takeout we’ve had in the last 2 weeks.)

With the arrival of Wednesday (last week), Mel & I assembled our things, dropped Shady off with my sister, and headed down to Connecticut to attend Mel’s sister’s wedding. Amazingly, despite the splattergore of shit-into-fan left behind by She Who Is Still A BitchQueen, I was still able to leave the store with more than enough coverage during the somewhat busy week. Huzzah!

The rental car--because, despite its trustworthiness, Mel’s current car is old and probably would not haven enjoyed the mileage we’d have put it through on this journey--was packed, and off to the great white Not-As-North-As-Us. The drive down could be best described as dark, tiring and filled with more mistaken turns than we’d have preferred. Hey, it’s been a while since Mel’s done the drive, and the dark doesn’t help, what with all the obscuring of distant signs or any viable landmarks.

As a result, we left Hamilton at 7pm, and arrived at her mom’s house at 3:30am. Tired. Living Room. Sleep. Oh yes, happiness…

…or would have been, had we not been blessed by the presence of what I shall herein (taking my cue from Mike and the bots) refer to as Rando The Amazing, Self-Deflating Air Mattress. Yes indeed, Rando is here to make your life easier: instead of waking up each morning and needing to deflate the air mattress, Rando deflates in the middle of night, so when you wake up the next day, all you have to do is fold him up and set him aside!

That can pretty much be Today’s Lesson: nothing is quite so uncomfortable as an air mattress that leaves your ass on the floor, and the rest of your upper torso perilously close to the same fate. It was even worse whenever Mel moved or got up, since her body mass was keeping my half mostly inflated by pressure displacement. If she sat up, suddenly my entire body sank onto the floor. And vice versa, I’m sure.

We had the pleasure of Rando’s company almost every night, the only reprieve being the one night spent in the hotel of the day of the wedding. Which does in fact bring us to the wedding. We never did get to sleep in, what with the numerous last-minute wedding errands everyone had to run and Rando’s less than relaxing, deflation technique.

There was also the added unusualness of Sammy, the new puppy Mel’s family had recently bought. Sammy is a small, black, furry Schnoodle. (Which sounds a lot like something your order at Octoberfest. “I’ll have two beers and a schnoodle, thanks!”) Not only was he in the throes of being housebroken, and failing beautifully, might I add, but he was also very playful and didn’t like being left alone.

I will state that, despite being a handful as all puppies his age are, Sammy was adorable and fun to be with. Hopefully the pictures I took of him turned out. Sammy spent most of our time there either chewing on something…usually body parts like toes, elbows, feet or hands…or howling pitifully because he had to stay in the kitchen overnight. Not having bladder or bowel control, and thusly ruining a very nice rug (especially one that would be used for wedding photos) tends to result in that sort of thing. Well, Sammy didn’t like it, and let us know. Loudly. Repeatedly.

I’m frankly stunned the pitch in his voice didn’t shatter any windows or glass. It was that shrill. There was also the resident bichon, Sophie, who also didn’t like sleeping away from her owner/Mel’s sister/the bride. However, since bridal dresses were hanging up in most of the bedrooms, no one wanted to risk her getting into them somehow. So off Sophie went into the kitchen too.

Most of our nights were spent with 1-2 hours of either dog crying/bitching loudly. Whenever one died down, the other started up and set the other off too. Thank God for our last night there, Sophie was able to roam wherever she pleased, and while he had to spent the night in his kennel cage, Sammy slept right next to our air mattress. So no barking that night.

…which still didn’t help much, again thanks to Rando and our mornings involving a pre-7am wakeup.



Part 2: Come For The Wedding, Stay For The Open Bar


The wedding. There was one. Which is good, since otherwise Mel & I would really have blown a fair deal of money for no good reason. But hey, I got a suit out of the deal, and Mel got a gold-ish bridesmaid’s dress that…well, while she looked fantastic in it (as did all the other bridesmaids), I couldn’t keep the imagery of a giant, gold-ish mushroom out of my head.

Apologies and sac-beatings will assuredly ensue.

I at least did not end up feeling entirely like a 5th wheel, as I ended up being volunteered for a number of small, menial tasks to help with the wedding. Mel, on the other hand, was running all over the place with her family; the usual primping, hair and what-not’s.

Saturday, the day of the wedding, inevitably struck. I spent most of the morning relaxing as the ladies had their hair and make-up done. Then I was whisked away to the hotel everyone was staying at, where I idled around and chatted with Mel’s mother’s date. (All around a very nice and thoughtful guy.)

I was also put in charge of making absolutely, unequivocally, and under pain of death-then-resurrection-to-be-followed-by-more-death, making sure that the bride’s wedding ring made it the Best Man. Apparently everyone trusted me more than anyone else to make sure the ring wasn’t forgotten or lost.

As a future note, if anyone every requests this of you, back away slowly. It’s a nerve-wracking venture filled with paranoia, stress and probably floggings. I’d only recommend it if you enjoy wearing gimp masks and getting spanked.

The wedding ceremony and reception were being held in the same place. Alas, rain killed any prospects of having the ceremony held outside. Though the staff onhand had prepared for this contingency, and once word came down to host the shindig indoors, they motored pretty damned fast getting everything in.

Interesting note: next door to us, they were holding a Bar Mitzvah. I wanted to check it out, if only to play with the “make your own wax hand sculpture” machine I saw them wheeling in earlier in the afternoon.

The hall was beautifully decorated, and I will post pictures if I ever figure out how to download the stuff off Mel’s digital camera. I had to don my “too constricting for my tastes” suit, complete with an actual tie. Mind you, once the ceremony was over, the jacket came off, the tie was greatly loosened, and the two buttons of my collar were undone.

Subsequently, with my new, shorter haircut, I had no less than 4 remarks about how I looked like Harry Potter. Again. (If only there was to milk this cash cow for me--er, I mean, for good. Yes…good…)

Things got interesting in the reception hall once the bar opened. Many drinks were served. Many hammered guests eventually left. I spent most of my time dancing with Mel and getting a whirlwind tour of my in-laws. Many of whom I now wouldn’t even be able to pick out of a police line-up.

A few interesting (and not all in a good way) things happened over the course of the evening, but since they involve Mel’s family, it’s probably better if I poke her to rant about it on her LJ. (Because if anyone’s blog is dustier than this one…)

Oddly enough, I ended up pretty sober, having had only a few beers and some Rum & Cokes. Why, do you ask? No tequila. Simple as that. Had there been tequila, I’d have probably been pissed not just four sheets, but the whole damned laundry hamper to the wind. And despite insisting for months that she’d drink herself silly, Mel touched even less alcohol than me. Mostly because she was too exhausted to drink. It’s sad when an open bar is neglected due to that, isn’t it?

Oh well, others partied hard for us.

Like Mel’s mother.

A set-up explanation: the last shuttle from the reception hall back to the hotel left at 1am. From there, Mel & I went into our hotel room and crashed. The rest of the wedding party, all located on our floor, partied until the crack of dawn. Or until they passed out. Whichever came first.

Like Mel’s mother.

Apparently, she got more bloody hammered than anyone else, resulting in multiple trips to the toilet (and bathtub) to throw up; drunken flirtations with a guy half her age; locking herself in someone else’s bathroom on a whim, and requiring the pastor to (get this) pick the bathroom lock; and culminating in her wedding dress being rendered a total write-off due to extreme technicolour yawning.

It took her mom 2 full days to recover from the hangover.

And I think one of the guys nearly got arrested right in the hotel for soliciting a prostitute. I’m not entirely sure; the details are sketchy on this one, but the police were definitely called for something other than noise disturbance.

The next morning, I grudgingly rose at about 9am and shambled down to the hotel’s hot tub to soak my tired legs. Mel got up soon after, and it was about then that we discovered our two other roommates had never made it back to our room.

You see, her teenage sister and sister’s friend, both being of the female persuasion, were to crash in our room. Their two male dates for the wedding were to spend their night in their own, separate bedroom. Guess where we found everyone in the morning? (I can’t attest to the state of undress of anyone in there, as Mel was the one to go in as a precaution.)

A couple of balls-out evasive answers to Mel’s grandmother-


Grandmother: “So, are they still sleeping up in your room?”

Me: ^-^;;; “Uh, well they are still sleeping, yes…”


--and all was well. Then came my favourite meal of the day: the all you can eat buffet breakfast. Mel & I paid $10 each for the buffet. I nearly ate enough to cover the cost for both our meals. (What can I say? All that gimpy-dancing the night before made me hungry…)

Eventually we checked out of our rooms, and we drove home…with Mel’s mom barfing three times on the trip back. Eeeep.

Ergo we have Today’s Extra Lesson: a bottle of cheap-as-all-hell Beefeater gin will fuck you up. Which is why you should always stick to Bombay when it comes to gin. Sure, it can still fuck you up, but at least it tastes smoother and not like a cheap bottle of gin.



Part 3: The Pointless But Meandering Finale

The remainder of our trip consisted of doing very little. Between Mel’s mom being as sick/hungover as a dog, and all of us feeling very tired, we enjoyed more lounging around than anything. Mel & I got a little bit of shopping done, and we did have a very cool moment of seeing an eagle standing out on someone’s lawn as she guarded the squirrel she’d just killed.

The trip back featured a lot more than the initial trek down, but I’d rather have rain over darkness. I’m able to stay awake easier with rain than darkness. The worst of the storm hit ups just going into New York state, and then just as we were leaving New York state. Which further bolsters Mel’s ardent belief that New York state is pure evil, and not just because of the Yankees.

Pleasantly, no wrong turns were made this trip around. But Mel is kicking herself for not having picked up the Inu Yasha s.4 boxset down in CT when we saw it; apparently, there’s issues with the manufacturer or distributor up in Canada, and none of the stores here have been able to get it.

Shady was picked up in Hamilton at a decent time of night. Naturally, while we were visiting with my sister, a torrential downpour decided to happen. So in the spirit of “Plan B: screw it!” we spent a few more hours with my sister before finally kicking off.

There’s the old adage of there being no place like home, and for the most part Dorothy was absolutely right. (No, not about thinking that the Wicked Witch of the West was actually a living creature whose body was made entirely of dry ice.) It was good to be back in our own home again, with its familiar rooms and smells and lack of Rando the Self-Deflating Air Mattress.

Mind you…our cat, Chance, must have known we were coming, because he decided to greet us with perhaps the foulest stench in his litter box to date. And to think we cleaned it right before we left too. Yeesh…

But the pets are all just fine, our apartment is great, and while I have to spend a day or two cleaning the place up, my store survived my absence unscathed. And no fires this time! Woohoo!

(Though the construction just outside our end of the mall is making the entire store vibrate on a daily basis. The rough sensation is akin to walking on a giant washing machine on the spin cycle for 8 hours: it’s fun at first, but it wears off the more you feel your pancreas rattling about inside your torso.)

So there you have it: a magnificent, magnanimous update. Now if anyone needs me, I have a Fruba Fanbook to go out and purchase.
posted by Phillip at 7:50 PM