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!

 



So far, my ass remains of the unchewed persuasion. But the week's not out yet.

However, it would appear the Queen of Hearts logic isn't limited exclusively to my Head Office, as Mel can sadly attest to. Now, not everyone has seen Mel in what I like to call "Rage Mode." If you haven't seen it before, I heartily recommend you don't push your luck. It's something akin to witnessing the destructive force of Kill Bill's The Bride, a hurricane and pretty much every Chuck Norris meme in existence.

A day or two ago Mel got pretty much slapped in the face with such logic, and spent the rest of the day attempting to not go full Rage Mode...the result of which probably would have torn the universe asunder. It's at times like that I wish I'd gotten her enrolled in kickboxing so she could vent her rage on a punching bag. On the other hand, that would mean her punches to my shoulder every time I enter my patented Baka Mode would be that much more lethal. I don't know about you, but I enjoy my shoulder not being dislocated from its socket.


In other news, apparently I have sex appeal. Yes, yes, I know: it astounds if not downright boggles me too.

As Mel was working yesterday, she chatted with some customers who were perusing the jewelry: an older woman and her early-twenties daughter. Mel happened to mention that her husband (for those of you just tuning in: that would be me, just in case you missed it) worked in the mall. The mother then, with some surprise, verified what I looked like and told Mel that her daughter had been checking me out. According to Mel, when the daughter was informed of this she somewhat embarrasedly said, "Oh. Good to know he's taken, then." Which does make one wonder if I might have been asked out on a date later, had Mel not unexpectedly intervened.

Mel's having way too much fun teasing me about this. But I look on the bright side: for once, the girl crushing on me was older than ten.

Labels: Queen of Hearts logic for the Fail, the unbearable strangeness of being sexy

posted by Phillip at 6:50 AM

 



Last week never happened. Argue its existence all you want, offer all the tangible proof you can, but I shall still deny it occurring. I have Zenned it out of my reality. It has been placed in a box marked "Free To A Good Home" and placed by the side of a road that I cannot see from the apartment window. Ideally someone can claim it as a happy week--dare I even say, a good and cuddly week--and make it their own. But not I. Why, you almost fear to ask, cringing as you anticipate some sort of whiny rant complete with emo oranges?

In a year that hasn't exactly been fantastic, which has itself been following up a prior year that also wasn't the greatest, last week stands out as a singular piece of "fuck me gently with a chainsaw" anger. I am quite certain that last week was designed specifically in mind to enrage me to a point where "fucktwat" once more entered my vocabulary. (And here I'd gone for years without needing to utter it again.)

Last week--and here is where I spit on the ground against it--was supposed to be one of my last hurrahs before the Commercialmas season was thrust upon us. As manager, I get one full weekend off a month, save for August & December. Since those months are so busy our Head Office demands the managerial presence every Saturday. So...this past weekend was to be my last full weekend off for the year. And it was going to be a grand weekend off, filled with plans of relaxation and times spent with friends.

That would be right until, at very near the last minute, one of my employees called out sick with H1N1, taking her out for a week, bare minimum. And she was someone working both the Saturday and Sunday I should have had off. Now I am well aware that she did not set out to get sick, nor was she wanting to spend her time sick...but still the timing couldn't have been any fucking worse unless I was about to leave on a week-long trip.

Worse off, no other store had someone they could spare at such a last-minute notice, and my own remaining store members were: a) unable to work since they hadn't been scheduled in and had already made their own plans (and anyways, I could never force them to work regardless since I'm not evil, and further anyways, I'm pretty sure if I tried to do that it's illegal), and; b) had booked that weekend off well over a month in advance and couldn't take over even if they wanted to.

So as of the end of last week (Spit!), I got to spend my Saturday off working at the store. And to add to the delightfulness of this multiple-uses-of-the-word-'fuck' day, I will probably spend today (Monday) getting my ass chewed off by Head Office for going overtime on my hours. Basically, they only want us to work up to 44 hours a week, since after that we get paid overtime. They make it sound like going overtime is a forbidden act that will result in death, but I'm pretty damned sure that if I have to, they can't stop me due to labour laws and whatnot.

Because this place doesn't pay me enough (and oooooh boy, does it not pay any of their managers enough, hence the reason I'm more than ready to jump this ship the first chance I get), I work the maximum 44 hours a week as much as possible. It's what I had slated myself for last week (Spit!) when I was working under the assumption that I'd have Saturday off and not have to fucking kill that idea. The fact that my employee has H1N1, and it happened at the last possible minute, I know that this should be a health issue thusly exempting me from getting yelled at by my superiors...ironic as that word is currently.

And yet I am certain I'm in for an earful from someone who will refuse to accept Earth logic and me actually taking managerial responsibility for something beyond my control. In the end, I suppose I will have to offer the alternative I could have gone with: taken up 'Plan B: Fuck It' and taken my day off anyways, leaving a single person to work all of Saturday by themselves. A Saturday where we made, at the end of it all, almost four thousand dollars. (That's a busy Saturday, incidentally.)

I could have just waved it aside and let them fend for themselves, happy in knowing I didn't anger the Head Office demigods by going only *two and a half hours* over the standard 44. But dammit, I had to be a responsible person.

The way I see it right now, it really is a case of "screwed either way." I'm damned because I *gasp!* went over my hours by a few. But had I simply not cared, I'd have screwed over my store by having a single person working Saturday, and I know I'd be yelled for that too. I swear I detest the seeming Queen of Hearts logic our Head Office operates by: don't do as I say, do as I say!

Ideally (or unfortunately) I'll make another post in a day or two informing you how much of my ass is left after the inevitable ass-chewing. In the meantime: fuck this all with a rusty, tetanus-carrying pick-axe (with love!). Or better yet, someone dust off my Head Office Appreciation Pancake Maker and hand it over. I feel a need for an alibi coming on....


Today's Soapbox Rant: I don't care how much you scream "Won't somebody think of the children?!" It's your own damned fault your preteen daughter, with her own money on her own time, bought a purse with a Playboy bunny logo on it. We are not responsible for her questionable taste in fashion, or her age-appropriateness for a mere label. There were no naked women on this purse. There was no pornography anywhere on it. As such there was, is and shall forever be no need whatsoever for us to ban, censor or deny any one who wants to shell out the cash to buy it. You can rail against what that label represents, but not to us. That's what public access channels are for. We, on the other hand, don't care. In short: fuck you and your responsible parenting failure.

Labels: the sad but true tale of parenting fail, this is why I hate my job

posted by Phillip at 4:27 AM

 



This blog was meant to be seen on Friday instead of Sunday...and then life got in the way (squiggle little thing that it is).

Anyhoo, it's not often that I recall my dreams. I'm sure I dream often, but damned if I have any recollection of them once I wake up. At best I'm inbued with that nagging sense of having dreamed, but still not having the slightest idea what it may have been about. However, after this dream I think my mind's just deliberately regressing the others in a valiant attempt to preserve my dignity. (Well...whatever of it I still have left. I think there might be a little bit lost somewhere between the couch cushions.) Either that, or my Inner Otaku still has a very firm grip on my proverbial reins.

Yes, Virginia, it was an anime dream. More specifically, a dream based on The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. This can only mean one thing: if you have no idea what that series is about, all the sad silly anecdotes about this might be lost on you. Feel free to skip on down to the section where I don't have any pants.

To the dream!

Imagine, if you will: a cloudless night, and the full moon shines brightly upon a Japanese inn with a natural hotspring. It's out in the very rural areas, surrounded by trees and mountains. The inn has a large second-floor blacony, almost large enough to be considered a patio. On this balcony, Haruhi & Kyon stare out at the vast expanse of trees Kyon is dressed in the casual robes worn by the inn's customers, while Haruhi looks stunning wearing a summer festival kimono: white with fanciful flower prints on it.

Haruhi is very shy and embarrassed as, in a fit of unbelievable moe, she blurts out to Kyon that she loves him. Instead of offering up one of his usual caustic remarks or commentaries, Kyon tenderly wraps his arms around her and whispers words of affection into her ear. Haruhi blushes and smiles gently as he leads her to his room...

And then my alarm went off, and I was jolted awake. But the dream remained very vivid in my mind. My first thought upon waking up was: "Wow, another anime dream! How wacky is that?"

This thought was quickly followed by: "Wait...Haruhi and Kyon were acting horribly out of character. Oh no! I dreamed of a badly-written Haruhi fanfic!"

And then that thought was quickly followed by: "Wait...they were going to have sex right before I woke up! Oh no! I just dreamed of a badly-written Haruhi lemon fanfic!"

I feel so tainted now.

Oh well, at least this one didn't have the Akiodile. (Imagine, if you will: a monstrous crocodile, easily the size of a Tyrannosaur...but dressed in Akio Ohtori's trademark red shirt...and sporting Akio's trademark light purple, pony-tailed hair. Yeah, I'm pretty sure the mushrooms I had for dinner that night were not typical button mushrooms, as the grocery store insisted.)





In other news, Friday was National Random Act of Kindness Day. Did you perform a random act of kindness? Did you even know you were supposed to? (Me, I'm still holding out for next year to have an official "I Sat Next To You On The Bus Day".)

I wasn't able to get to this little bit of nowhere on Friday, so here is my belated, random act of kindness to all you Interwebs strangers out there: an image of me in my utterly brilliant, no-pants glory.









[Mel-chan's Edit: Hi Hi! Lucky for all of you, I checked out his blog right after he posted it and, since I know his passcode, I decided to perform my random act of kindness too: I removed the picture of him with no pants. You can thank me later.]

Labels: random acts of no pants, The Badly-Written Dreamfics of Haruhi Suzumiya, what the hell is an Akiodile

posted by Phillip at 6:30 AM

 


Mel has just begun a new job, one at a jewelry kiosk in Conestoga Mall. This should make things interesting at least in terms of scheduling; the odds are I'll be adjusting my schedule to fit hers whenever possible so we can travel on the bus together. (Because let's face it; winter driving in the horrid snowstorms is not fun...and neither is the sadly understandable mall policy that all employees have to park in the furthest corners so as to let the customers get the prime spots closer to the doors.)

Interestingly enough, one of her co-workers is an otaku. A newbie, yes, but an otaku never the less. This should make Anime North 2010 a unique situation, since they'll both be asking for the weekend off. Ideally the kiosk will be able to accomodate them and just hand over the hours to other part-timers clamouring for some extra change.

Admittedly this is why I much prefer being the only otaku at my store. Not only do I have the power as manager (Oooh, power trip! Shiney!) to make sure I've got that weekend off, but as the sole otaku I know no one else is going to be vying for it off for the same reasons, thus making me feel guilty for denying a fellow otaku the same once-a-year blitz I get to savour...unless they won't shut up about how Goku can kick the ass of every other anime character in existence.

In that case, they'd be working the whole damn Con weekend. I'm gloriously petty that way.

In other news, I was vastly surprised today when I took Shady out for her morning pee break and discovered a honey bee flitting about. I had honestly thought that with the recent cold snap, any wild bee hives would be preparing for hibernation. (At least, after reading Neil Gaiman's blog entries, I'm under the impression that bees hibernate in the winter. He has two bee hives. I wish I was cool enough to have bees. Not to wear like a beard, of course, but just to say to visitors, "Over there's the garage, and about fifteen meters behind it is the bee farm. We use it to scare away teenagers from trying to open the local Hellmouth.")

Come to think of it, seeing a honey bee unto itself is actually a unique experience for me. Where we live, one typically sees either bumblebees (yays!) or wasps (the opposite of yays!). This is the first time in a long while that I've seen your standard honey bee. It's good to know they're more or less still around--and taking advantage of the strange warm snap too.

This reminds me: our ladybug herd arrived earlier this past week. This is a definitive sign of the impending winter.

For those of you who don't know (or, like me, have forgotten it like so many inconsequential things, like wearing pants), every Fall our apartment complex inexplicably becomes home to a decent-sized herd or ladybugs. The orange Japanese kind, not our usual red ones; sadly, I haven't seen a red ladybug around here in at least 2 years. Those who survive the season will be here all winter, eventually leaving around March. Anyhoo, one morning I took Shady out and noticed a very large, orange-with-spots patch in the top corner of our floor's hallway.

Yep, they'd arrived.

Ever since, wherever you go in the complex, you can see ladybugs skittering about on the walls, the ceiling, the pipes and sometimes even in your own apartment. We've seen three in our place so far. I'm pretty sure Chance has eaten all but one. That's the disadvantage of being a bug in our apartment: we have a cat who will watch you with rapt fascination before hunting and devouring you. On the downside, it means we don't see ladybugs in our apartment; on the plus side, annoying flies have a very short life expectancy when they make it inside. And, years ago when we were in our one-bedroom, and our particularly filthy neighbours had a cockroach infestation that leaked into our home, Chance was the sole reason the cockroaches all but vanished from sight.

Hooray for predatory instincts!

Labels: Gil Grissom would know the answers to these insect questions

posted by Phillip at 6:23 AM

 


The baseball World Series just wrapped up, with the Yankees winning. Now I have no particular thought about this. I'm not a sports fan. My response to the news that the Yankees won was, "The World Series was now?" That should tell the level of interest pro sports in general holds for me. (But hey, if that's your thing, enjoy it!) So as a result, I'm particularly indifferent to the Yankees winning.

Mel, on the other hand, being a die-hard Red Sox fan, feels the need to spit every time I mention the Yankees.

So, if I'm not invested in baseball, why the post? Well, it's mostly anecdotal in nature. Earlier this week, one of the local radio DJs was discussing the hate-on that many people (like Mel) have for the Yankees. This particular DJ said he didn't mind that the Yankees had/bought their talent, but he had issues with the arrogance that the company as a whole tends to flaunt. Which led to the following quote: "If the Yankees were playing a team of Dementors from Harry Potter, I'd be waving the Dementor banner."

...am I the only one who suddenly has this great/evil/deranged idea of an all-Dementor baseball team? There's a fanfic in that, I'm certain.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's sleep to be had.

Labels: Dear lord the Dementor outfielder just kissed Hideo Matsui (and not in a good slashy way)

posted by Phillip at 8:08 PM

 


Dear lord, what can this horrific, monumentous event be? Has the world come to an end? Is life as we know it about to cease? Steady yourselves, it's just an update. I know, I know, something so strange and terrifying should be killed with fire, but I've been meaning to do this for a week now. The urge to sleep has just won out. That and Mel's gotten addicted to that Farmville game, so she's commandeered the laptop most evenings in order to harvest her crops and adopt strange-looking animals.

Why can't you adopt wombats in Farmville? I'd be more interested in playing it if wombats were involved.

In other news, there was a Halloween last night. And for us it was very, very low-key, spent mostly watching movies with friends after work. Pizza was consumed. Mel made cupcakes. Minds were broken by Rocky Horror (and really: what is Halloween without Frank-N-Furter in all his sweet transvestite glory?) in the sense of, and I quote: "That hurt my brain...and I don't even know what the hell I just saw."

Oh, Rocky Horror virgins are so cute that way. (For my first time, I myself managed to hold on until the last act of the movie. Alas, my mind was instantly shattered by the floorshow--ironic since it's my second favourite part of the movie now, over-shadowed by the back-to-back scenes featuring The Timewarp & Sweet Transvestite. Mel's told me that explains so much.) One of these days, I really do want to get up to Toronto on Halloween and witness the full theatrical experience.

...And Mel has just informed me that I can go do that all I want, but I'll be doing it alone, thank you very much. I'd retort with some remark about how she could be my Columbia, but that'll only end in tears and an ass-kicking for me.

We also managed to watch Trick R' Treat, a movie I've been itching to see since I saw the trailers for it...last year. Seriously, I can understand wanting to release a movie and later its DVD around the Halloween season it celebrates, but why did it have a ridiculously limited theatrical release to begin with? I think it showed maybe once or twice during a Toronto film festival last year, and that was it. The rest of us had to wait a year, wondering what sort of executive-laiden pit had swallowed it up. Thankfully, the movie was worth the wait. Much happiness and carnage was beholden (beheld?), and if there is any moral to this movie, it's a two-fold one: first, everyone's an asshole in that small Ohio town, and; second, for the love of God, give the scary-looking Pumpkin-headed kid some candy.

In the end, we called it a night around 4 or 5am (depending on whether you argue Daylight Savings starts at two or whenever you actually go to bed). I haven't done something quite like this in a long time--sporatically at best, and usually with Kevin & Donna since the days of the old Fancrew gatherings--and I must say I am pleased to note that my body still holds up pretty well to this sort of shindig. The ultimate test will still be if I can survive the "breakfast of champions" consisting of a Pepsi and a slice of pizza. If I'm okay after that (and I'd better be considering what today requires me to do...gyaaaaa.) then there's hope for the future!

Maybe I'll get lucky and discover that last night someone mistook our store for a witch and burned it down. That would be a nice surprise.



Today's Engrish: I saw a shirt on a university student that said...and I wish I had a camera for this one..."Flesh Imp." I have no idea what it could mean, apart from possibly advertising that she's a succubus. I wonder how many propositions she's gotten whilst wearing that shirt.

Labels: So come up to the lab and see what's in the tab I see you shiver with antici...pation

posted by Phillip at 8:54 AM