Shoot The Shaggy Llama
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
Yes, But Can It Interest Me In Scientology Too?
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
