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!

 


It's barely even spring, and inexplicably my legs are an itching mess of red, swollen bites. Obviously, I am vexed by this turn of events. I don't even know how or even when it happened. One morning I woke up, and both my calves were covered in maddeningly-itchy bites (from what I can only assume are mosquito in origin). My right leg is even worse, with bites having made it all the way up past my knee and onto my inner thigh. Of course, this means that only was I attacked by a mosquito, but a perverted one at that. Consider the sheer fortitude it had to display to fly up my pants and start going to town on my supple, athletic gams. Worse than that is the possibility that there were multiple mosquitoes doing this at once. If that's true, then I was violated by a bunch of bugs having some kind of freakish, blood orgy in my pants.

Why is it that I get to celebrate the start of the season by being violated by bugs?

Anyhoo, I have recently started to devise what I call the Cameron Conspiracy. I've been noticing a trend in James Cameron's films wherein if the main couple have sex, all hell will inevitably break loose. And I do mean it breaks loose with all 9 levels. Consider:

--Terminator. Sarah Connor and Reese sleep together. This gives Sarah a slight case of the stupid, and she notifies the Terminator of their location. Car chases, explosions and a hailstorms of bullets ensue. And people get killed.

--Titanic. Rose sleeps with Jack, an act that summons a mighty iceburg. And the boat sinks.

--Avatar. Hot, wild Navi sex occurs. By the next morning, they're nearly run over by a giant bulldozer, and the tribe's home/tree gets torched.

--True Lies. Poor Arnie doesn't even get the chance to sleep with his wife. 2 minutes into foreplay, and they're kidnapped by terrorists and nearly vaporized by a nuclear bomb.

All of this evidence brings us to Today's Lesson: don't have sex in a James Cameron film. Within the next 12 hours, you'll wish you only had a crazed maniac in a goalie mask after you. It's the armageddon afterglow, baby!

Labels: the Cameron Conspiracy, WTF bugbites

posted by Phillip at 2:58 PM

 


I pride myself on being quite amicable with small children and babies. I have a natural affinity with them, and more often than not if I smile at them, they grin back at me. Or else a gang of them end up tackling me as they decide I make the perfect jungle gym. (You may laugh, but sadly I've lost count of the number of times I've had to help look after a group of kids and the playing devolves into the entire horde chasing me around the play area/ground.)

However, I'm at a bit of a loss when it comes to my niece. Josselyn has issues with me. It first began when my sister asked me to entertain Josselyn for a car ride, so I opted to start telling her about Sesame Street's "The Monster at the End of this Book." Here's how the conversation went:


Me: "So, kiddo, there's this book. And there's also this monster at the end of it."

Josselyn: "AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"

Me: [panicking] "No, no, it's okay! It's okay! The monster turns out to be Grover, so it's all good."


Sadly, Josselyn refused to stop crying for the rest of the car trip. I still haven't lived that particular moment down. But with another visit from them today, this was my chance to redeem myself. Josselyn was in a great mood, grinning happily whenever I smiled at her, and she enjoyed when I helped play with her toys. Then I tried to pick her up. Here's how the conversation went:


Me: [hoisting her up] "Okay, kiddo, upsie-daisy."

Josselyn: "AAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!"

Me: -.-;;; "Aw, crap."


Everyone reassures me that once she gets a little older, Josselyn will warm up to me. I can only hope so. It's slightly less mortifying being flying tackled by her as opposed to her bursting into tears every time I violate her personal space...or read her a bedtime story.

In other news, spring cleaning has begun. This is also known as the "Hey look what I found...and just how long was that hiding here?" season. So far the only substantial discoveries like that we've made have involved bunny poop. I can't say this pleases me. Really now, how exactly can a rabbit with limited access to her romper room get poop in behind otherwise-inaccessible pieces of furniture?


Mel: "That's probably because our cat has been batting around the bunny pellets and chasing after them."

Me: "Don't tell me these things after I've let him lick my hands!"


On the other hand, this is better than discovering Chance has yet again indulged in his shoe-snuggling fetish. But yes, cleaning and rearranging continues. The biggest problem we're facing is that we have a fair bit of display items and not a heck of a lot of display space. Oh curio cabinet manufacturers, why must all your models that match our apartment's colour scheme be notoriously expensive? (Which is to say nothing of our need for bookshelves...which we can't really afford since we end up spending our money on more books.)

Labels: strange little cat hobbies, the monster at the end of this book spoilers

posted by Phillip at 8:54 PM