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!

 


If there was ever a lesson for today, it would be this: if you're going to polish off a decent helping of merlot, one bottle of water before bed isn't enough to curb the hammer-like headache awaiting you in the morning. I probably needed at least two bottles of water. As it is, I got to celebrate Christmas Day by waking up and popping some Advil. Fortunately a long, hot shower cleared away the worst of the unpleasantness, leaving me to believe that in the end, I should just celebrate with shots (Sake or otherwise) instead. Those don't tend to wreck me until their numbers reach double digits.

But all in all, it was a very good Christmas. Mel handled most of the kitchen-organization detail while I prepped whatever she pointed at. I'm sure her family would be stunned by this; Mel can cook, and quite well, but she doesn't like to since she views it as more of a chore. Growing up, she rarely ever cooked (probably because she figured if they knew she could, they'd put her on kitchen detail all the time) and it's a bit of a running joke how I'm usually the one in the kitchen. Whenever they say things like that, I always notice this strange, smug little smile on Mel's face. I wonder why...

Christmas swag was good and swaggy...swaggerific...swagtastic? Unfortunately, a few gifts meant for Gary, Mel and myself didn't arrive on time due to a backorder issue. They're enroute now, but sadly I'm not holding out hope for a pre-New Year's arrival.

Still, good times were had. We sat down with my mother for a mid-afternoon dinner (and she lingered for more than a few hours, which was a pleasant surprise considering how fast she's vanished in years past--though this could be due to all the Henson-related Christmas videos we were showing. She doesn't have any of them, like Muppet Christmas Carol or The Christmas Toy, but we always watched them years ago, and they have that nostalgic feel for her.) and enjoyed quiet, drawn-out conversations revolving around nothing epic in particular. When she left later on in the evening, we sat back and watched a bunch of random shows or anime. It was a good way to cap off the day.

Especially considering that yesterday was Boxing Day. As a retail grunt who's worked every Dec.26th for the past six years, I can say I hold a hearty disgust of this day. I mean, hey, if you want to check out those sales, go right ahead and enjoy yourself. But I think that once I manage to procure a job that let's me take the 26th off, I will be going nowhere near a mall or big-box store. I loathe the crowds, I'm morbidly amused by the inevitable mob mentality that ensues in some places, and strangely there's usually very little in these sales that entices or tempts me...with the notable exception of turkey meat from Hickory Farms at half-price.

On the glass-half-full side of things, Boxing Day for our store was disturbingly easy. The crowds yesterday were no different than the crowds we've experienced & contended with for the past three Saturdays before Christmas. In fact, with no boxes and a dwindling supply of stock, two of us working the full shift had an easy time of keeping the store clean, restocking everything and handling customers. It was beautiful, and quite frankly I'm terrified to think of what this means, since some horrific cataclysm will have to restore balance to this whole ordeal.

So if you're asking about me, I'll be wrapped up in the new dress shirts that Mel bought for me: curled into a fetal position and muttering about how the customers will no doubt eat me during today's shift.

Labels: for once Boxing Day pulled its punches, On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me a hangover

posted by Phillip at 6:27 AM

 


It's about 1:30am on Christmas Eve...or Christmas Day, depending on how you want to argue it. And I am definitely buzzed, quite possibly tipping the scales over to the side of "drunk." With Gary over for the holidays, we decided it best to celebrate the last of the pre-Christmas shopping rush (and commiserate for the sadly impending post-Christmas shopping rush) with alcohol. Mel dipped into her favourite brand of champagne, while Gary & I divied up a bottle of The Little Penguin brand of merlot.

I'm pretty sure I'm drunk right now, though the buzz is definitely wearing off. I seem to be getting better at typing in a seemingly coherent fashion, at any rate...though my abilities to take the dog out for a walk/pee run from about an hour earlier would definitely have been called into question considering how much I tended to veer randomly whilst walking.

Which reminds me...earlier this evening, when Gary & I were stone-cold sober, we had this great idea: Cream of Breakfast soup. Make of it what you will. We merely questioned whether the "sip through a straw" aspect of it would involve bacon or not.

In other news: congratulations to Caitlin & Mike! Finding engagement rings on dog collars are always much better than finding ticks or fleas on dog collars. ^-^

Labels: I can't believe it's not Cream of Breakfast, romantic engagement of good friends, Twas the blotto before Christmas

posted by Phillip at 10:16 PM

 


For over a decade now, Anime North has remained one of the more prolific highlights of any given year. There are so many memories that are still etched into my precocious psyche even today...so many strange (Gimpy the Wonder Elevator) and wondrous (the Confic readings) and horrifying (the "Free Hugs" crowd) moments. But part of what makes the convention so important to me is because it's a little slice of escape from the rest of the world, because it happens only once a year and thusly must be treasured as much as possible.

When I'm at the Con, I'm surrounded by all these things. When I leave the Con, I only take the memories and the swag with me.

So please...someone tell me why there was a small gaggle of teens giving out "Free Hugs" (complete with handmade signs) in the middle of the frakking mall this past Saturday?! Are they hunting down every Congoer now, stalking them where they work? Are Mel & I just the first to witness this annoying phenomenon, or is this the start of some zombie-free infestation?

To be quite honest, I'd prefer the zombies. At least I can shoot them in the head with impunity.

To the rest of you out there: be warned. They're out there. They're in your malls. And they want to give you free hugs.

Labels: Today free hugs tomorrow the world

posted by Phillip at 6:00 PM

 


Dramallamas have been taken care of, and by taken care of I mean: they've been lovingly embraced like a comrade, walked out to the back and been summarily executed. There are times where I don't necessarily savour my job, but sometimes, just sometimes, I do get a disturbingly satisfied smile on my face. The unexpected fringe benefit of said employee's abrupt termination is that she was barely even scheduled in for the next few weeks, meaning next to nothing in the schedule has to be changed/rearranged to accommodate.

Glorious.

Anyhoo, here's a backlogged bit o' nowhere, which was originally supposed to show up about 2 weeks ago...until the 'llamas came in and tried to take over my store. Enjoy!

***

Commercialmas is in full swing now, and today’s snowfall pretty much christened the winter season. Customers are running rampant in the mall, and none of them are zombies--so there goes any alibi I could have otherwise used to putting the whammy on them with the Customer Appreciation Pancake Maker. “But officer, she was going to eat my brains!” pretty much guarantees self-defense.

Despite the growing crowds and the loud Christmas muzzak playing non-stop in the mall corridors…that’s so loud I can hear it in the back half of our store even with the radio blaring…I find myself unusually cheerful about the season. I’m not sure what it is, either, leaving me utterly boggled if not weirded out by this optimistic outlook. But hey, if the mood is taking me there, why not embrace it?

However, Mel’s insisting that I stop singing my impromptu rendition of “Rudolph, the Medium-Rare Reindeer.” (Although in my defense, she was playing Farmville prior, and the game was telling her that her latest collection of reindeer were ready to be “harvested.” Though in Farmville terms, that apparently means you groom them instead of turning them into venison.)

Maybe it’s because this year we’re doing more decorating than usual. After fighting with a fake, collapsible tree for an hour, we now have a Christmas tree overtaking most of the living room. Despite the fact that I had to rearrange half the furniture to make everything fit, it is quite pretty to see the tree all lit up at night. It’s definitely a step up from the Christmas tree we’ve been using for the last 6 years: a small, decorating tree that’s no larger than our dog (and if you know how big Shady is, that says more than enough about the tree). Now all we need are decorations, but they will arrive this weekend.


In other news: birthdays were recently had, and like last year I declared that I was going to preemptively stage my mid-life crisis early and buy myself a toupee to wear…or else skin a Tribble and use that instead. Mel told me that if I even seriously entertained either notion, our relationship would enter Champagne Room mode (as in: “There is no sex allowed in…”) for the next year.

I graciously decided to spare the Tribble’s life. It went on to gorge itself on everything in our cupboard before attacking some Klingon Cosplayers.

***


We now return you to our regularly scheduled bit o' nowhere.

Labels: birthdays, I love you Mr Dramallama now if you'll just close your eyes an pay no heed to the cocking of this gun

posted by Phillip at 7:17 AM

 

Today I received a piece of curious mail in my Junk folder. Normally I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but this one looked officious. After all, it's not every day I get an Email from FBI DIRECTOR Mr. Robert S.Mueller III.

See? How swanky is that? I now have the FBI Emailing me...though why he has a Gmail account belonging to kelvinwilliams2009 is beyond me. Maybe he has to be undercover when contacting me, because you can't be too careful these days.

Anyhoo, he wishes to inform me that my ATM delivery card is ready to be delivered to me. By the IMP. Yes, that's right: I am so freaking awesome that the Impossible Missions Force is going to deliver me a bank card. They'll probably bypass security and come in through the air ducts hanging from wires. And so long as he hasn't scared away everyone else in the agency, I bet Tom Cruise himself will hand it over.

This is proof that I couldn't be more amazing. Wonder why my Email account just tossed it into the Spam box. I mean, if you can't trust the FBI or IMF who can you trust?

Labels: Ethan Hunt is hiding in my ceiling and watching for spelling errors

posted by Phillip at 6:33 PM

 



Dramallamas are still running loose in my store, but ideally no longer amok.

On the other hand, Mel's boss is an idiot and smells like turnips. The best way I can describe this woman is to ask you: have you ever seen the Jim Henson's Storyteller episode "The True Bride?" In the first act, the heroine has been raised as the servant of a troll, and the troll enjoys being contradictive. He tells her to complete one task (under penalty of pain/beating if she can't complete it on time), and then declare once she's done that she's just plain wrong for having completed the task and beats her anyways. Well, substitute the physical beatings for really confusing if not downright infuriating snark and there's the manager.

Without even needing to use hyperbole, it's safe to say that Mel is about ready to kill someone right now due to recent managerial antics. Which means that I get to sign off and cower in a corner.

But as Annie would sing, "The sun will come out tomorrow! Bet your bottom dollar--!" Whereupon she'd get mugged for her dollar. (Hey, it's been hard times for everyone, and Annie is at fault for flat-out advertising she had cash on her.)

Labels: all Mel needs is an alibi and five minutes alone with her troll--er boss

posted by Phillip at 8:30 PM

 



There are absurdly large dramallamas running loose in my store. This must be remedied. Ideally with something double-barreled.

The short non-cryptic version of this is: in a small store with a small employee pool, a few of them seem to be having the equivalent of total mental breakdowns with each other and look poised to potentially kill each other. And I'm rather inclined to let them. I'll gladly accept the extra hours if it just means having this sort of ridiculous high school mentality out of my store. I shouldn't need to deal with this at all, let alone 2 weeks before Christmas.

And yes, there's 2 weeks to go.

You may now officially panic. (Or, if you're a retail grunt too, rejoice! The end is in sight!)

Labels: death to the dramallamas, it's beginning to look a lot like the end of Christmas

posted by Phillip at 4:49 AM

 


It's December 1st, and out here there are small patches of fluffy, white snow.

Then again, if anyone's going to complain to me about how it's terrible we now have snow, I'll just smile and inform them that if they really want a decent slice of perspective they should be in Calgary right about now. In some spots the snow over there is coming in drifts about half as tall as me.

In the meanwhile, all of our careful planning to ensure Mel's work schedule and my work schedule are as mirrored as possible may be all for naught as of today. One of her kiosk's employees is getting the axe, and they're about to be out a full-timer (with full availability, no less) right before Christmas. Hopefully, to use the BSG vernacular, this won't result in as large a clusterfrak as we're fearing.

Labels: Snow and schedules and bears oh my

posted by Phillip at 7:00 AM