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!

 


We’re creatures of habit, all of us. Even the more paranoid of our species make a habit of trying not to be so predictable…as paradoxical as that sounds. The more we slide into a routine, the more we grow accustomed to the job or scenery, and subsequently strange things of note tend to crop up as our attentions drift elsewhere. And sometimes that elsewhere ends up involving nipples.

No, wait! Don’t click on the “back button” just yet! Hear me out!

(And Mel, when you read this, please try to refrain from killing me until after you read the explanation, since this doesn’t involve my nipples in the slightest.)

With my morning shifts, I nab the same couple of buses at the same times each day. It’s like clockwork. And I’m not the only one. There are a number of familiar faces I see on the 8:30am bus heading out to the mall, and whenever possible we all gravitate to a preferred set of seats or rows, depending on how big a crowd is waiting at the platform.

As I’m sure many of you living in the southern Ontario region noticed, recently there was a slight case of winter attempting to kick our asses with a snowstorm one last time. (And proving beyond a doubt that most humans are idiots who forget how to drive in winter conditions after only a month of decent weather…really now, 100+ traffic accidents in the areas around Kitchener-Waterloo and Toronto over the course of 12 hours?!) Thanks to all that snow, the main bus terminal where I hopped off one bus to catch the mainline heading up to the mall was bustling with people who, understandably, were not at all eager to tromp through the snow for a few blocks.

The “Route 7C” bus, which is usually only half-full at this time of day, was notably filled before I had the chance to pile in myself. The seating was all but gone, so I relegated myself to standing in the aisle and trying not to end up on someone’s lap as the bus abruptly lurched to a stop on more than one occasion in order to avoid some of the aforementioned drivers who cut us off or didn’t check in their mirrors (or side windows. Or rear windows. Or any windows.) as they changed lanes.

Now I’m fast approaching the 1-year anniversary of taking regular transit to and from work, so I’m well familiar with the route. I know the buildings, the streets, and I’m starting to get an actual “feel” for how close I am to reaching the mall. (Similar to how an experienced TCC subway-rider can close their eyes closed, nod off and wake up like clockwork right before their stop.) You can imagine there wasn’t anything outside the bus to catch my attention, so I opted to idly look around at the other travellers with me.

One was another 7C regular I’ve seen quite often: she’s a middle-aged woman, in her late 40’s by my best guess, and for lack of a better description, looks like she’d be a librarian if she wasn’t already working at an office somewhere. (Her more formal business attire is a bit of a giveaway there.) Like me, she enjoys reading on the bus. And since she had managed to snag herself a seat for this voyage, that’s exactly what she was doing.

Now without trying to sound mean-spirited here, she has one very distinct trait that made me notice her months ago: whenever she reads, she subconsciously makes a very exaggeration motion with her head as she follows the lines on the page. I swear to you, it’s like watching an old-style typewriter. Her entire head swings from left to right, pauses when she reaches the end of a line, then it swings back to resume reading the next line. (In my own head, every time she does that, I make a “ding!” noise.) I can always tell if she’s reading or if she’s taking a break simply by whether or not her head is so purposefully swaying.

Well, today she was in the seat right next to where I stood, and she had a book she was completely focused on. As it so happened, I caught a good glance at the pages she was working on and discovered two important things:

1) Her eyes were not exactly the strongest in the world, since the book was in extra large print, and,

2) Perhaps reading a particularly steamy sex scene from a harlequin romance novel may not be the best way to spend your time on a crowded bus. Although I was quite impressed at “how large and engorged Cain’s cock had become,” he lost points with me for not spending enough time on Laura’s tingling and erect nipples. Maybe he makes up for it in a later large-font scene, but we’ll never know…



In other news, there was an Inventory at our store today before opening, and then I stayed for my usual 8-hour shift. Having spent 10 straight hours at the store, I must confess to being rather tired, a little giddy and in all likelihood delirious enough to believe that it’s a good idea to be writing a blog entry that may make absolutely no sense when I reread it tomorrow morning. Did the nipples work to, pardon the phrasing, grab your attention? Did Cain’s cock end up being engorged with fail instead of lust?

We’ll have to wait and see, I suppose.

But despite all the stress and added work I’ve had to contend with for the last few shifts in getting everything prepped for the Inventory, it has paid off with a pleasantly easy counting session and a favourable result that ensures I’ve got another year before this monster rears its ugly bean-counting (but not Beanie-counting, since that will surely have octopi lobbed in my general direction) head once more.

On the downside, long days at work have resulted in at least three days where I didn’t last past 11pm, and one where didn’t even make it past 10pm. And quite frankly, after today I’m amazed I’m still conscious. Not necessarily coherent, oh no, but conscious? Wow, that’s…um…crap. I’m at a loss for adjectives. Make something up for me and pretend it was comically poignant, will you? I think it’s time to retire, call it a night and brace myself for one more day shift before I get to actually sleep in.




Today’s Lesson: if you are a teenager, and have taken up smoking, and have not informed your parents of this fact, then perhaps you really shouldn’t leave an empty carton of cigarettes in your backpack for your mom to discover when she returns it. (The Schadenfreudean in me couldn’t help but smirk at the rather ominous tone in her voice as she said, “It appears we’re going to have a little talk when I get back home.”)

Labels: large print harlequin voodoo, Taking the “I” out of “Inventory”, would it be too squicky to mention Cain’s engorged cock again here in the tabs?

posted by Phillip at 4:38 AM