Bob and David Love You

Joygasm! Mr. Show Season 4 out on DVD in less than a month! It should be advised that you shouldn't try to talk to me at that time, as I'll be using violent force to make as many people as possible watch it with me. And if you fail to heed this warning and get pulled in by my tractor beam of Mr. Show fandom anyway? If I deem you to not be laughing hard enough, off goes your pinky.

In other DVD-related swellness, Season 2 of Kids in the Hall and Season 4 of Futurama are out now. Those assholes. Don't they know I have bills to pay?

Lopez!

Hellooooo... what's this I see? An AdSense invite has been added to the Blogger Dashboard! How intriguing this is. They're offering to pay me in return for having text ads prominently displayed on my blog. Well, the Man should really know by now that I'm no sellout; Google can keep their twelve cents. This blog shall remain ad-free. Joel 1; Google 0.

Yay! It looks like Gomez - a British band beloved by me and just about nobody else - is coming to Edmonton at the beginning of October! I'll be trying to break my tradition of being much too poor to attend shows for this one. Even if it means going by myself. I guess I could try to convince Dane to go with me, but I sort of ruined the band for him after way too many spins of Liquid Skin when we were roommates oh so long ago. Oh well. Anyway, I suggest to all my faithful readers in Edmontonia to go check them out. You might not be disappointed. And if you happen to see a puffy bald guy singing along to such classics as Las Vegas Dealer and Get Myself Arrested, you should know that'll most likely be me. Just a little warning, so you can situate yourself as far away from me as possible if that's your thang.

Phonin' It In

I don't know what to write today, so I'm going to post some links to some valuable and awe-inducing blogs in lieu of the usual pith. Both of them were taken from comments left on Jermey's blog. Feel proud, Jeremiah. Your chariot's coming to take you home soon.

Queen of Useless Knowledge - She's getting a link for the sole reason she mentioned me in one of her posts. Unfortunately, I have no freakin' clue who she is.

Jason Mulgrew: Internet Quasi-Celebrity - Funny. Funny funny funny funny. Read. Now.

Lover's Walk

Folks, I must admit that I'm rather bewildered. I spent all that time crafting the last post and the response has been a collective "Meh." What's going on? What was wrong with it? Good lord, I had the lowest daily hit count I've ever had on Sunday. Why? For chrissake, it even featured a rap about Lester B. Pearson! Or was that the issue? Is Lester B. Pearson a verboten rap subject? While I'm writing this, are good ol' "Mike" Pearson and his legion of fellow undead Nobel Prize winners planning on capturing me and torturing me in ways that I cannot comprehend with my feeble human mind? No, Pavlov! Put down that bell! I can salivate no more! AAARGH!

Let's turn the page on that sad little outburst, shall we?

It was a fairly crummy weekend I had, brightened solely by the fact I finally found the movie I've been dying to see. While searching through the previously viewed DVD racks at a local video store, I discovered a copy of The Shape of Things. For seven bucks, even! How could I pass that up? After sitting down and watching it this afternoon, I must admit I was quite impressed. But since it's by one of the Top 5 all-time awesomely awesome directors, how could it be anything but great? I've derived two lessons from the movie so far:

1) Never date an arts student.
2) If your boy/girlfriend suggests that you would be more attractive if you only did -blank-, run. Run far, far away.

Ah, Neil LaBute. Where would my movie-going experience be without you? There's just nothing like your brutal relationship dramas. And although it's misanthropy can't compare to your other venomous chamber pieces - Your Friends and Neighbours and In the Company of Men - it's still got its moments of unbridled cruelty. What else... oh yeah, the recommendation. Take it from me, this is a good movie. Well worth your one to seven hard-earned bucks.

Just one word of advice: do NOT see this with your boy/girlfriend.

Fashismo

Fashionistas! Roman! Couture-men! Lend me your ears! You know how there's an elite few who influence the world's taste in fashion? The designers, the celebrities, and the rock stars, and assorted other fabulous people? You can add one more name to that list. Me, baby; me. For some reason everything I wear or think is cool ends up busting through to the mainstream. If you think I'm exaggerating, then consider:

• Hawaiian Shirts - I was rockin' them back in junior high, much to the amusement of my peers. A few years later everybody was stylin' them. Oh well, at least the revival died quickly...
  
• "Emo" Glasses - I desperately wanted a pair back in '97. But wouldn't you know it, they were impossible to find. Um, not anymore...
  
• Work Shirts - Back in '98, I decided that old work shirts from Value Village were good enough to make up my wardrobe. Again, to the amusement of my peers. The one I liked the most (and everybody else wouldn't shut up about) was my Edmonton Transit shirt. You don't know how many people asked if I drove a bus. And when after much prodding I said no, they asked why the hell I was wearing it in the first place. Um... who knows? It was cheap! Cheap and snazzy! Fast forward four years to me looking through a newspaper. I come upon the Trendwatch section and contained therein was an interview with a girl declaring her love for old work shirts. Her favorite one? Edmonton Transit. *explodes*
  
• Old School Sneakers - I despised those big, fancy skate shoes that were popular a few years ago. All I wanted was a damn simple sneaker; one it seems like they had stopped making. And now it's 2004, Will Smith is wearing Chuck Taylors in I, Robot, and Nike has just bought Converse. It's enough to make a grown man cry. Well, there's always this...
  

Does it seem like I'm bitching about other people rockin' my steez? Nah, I don't care about that. What pisses me off is that everybody looks better wearing them than I do.

Why am I bothering to tell you this? The first and most obvious answer: Well, why do I tell you people anything, anyway? The second and more pertinent answer: I sense a new trend going; I can feel its rumbling in my bones. Transmissions from the Ether of Fashion are revealing its secrets to me. And knowing the luck I have with picking bandwagons, I would be remiss if I didn't share my newfound knowledge with you. You want to know what's going to be blowin' off the roof soon?

Bow ties.

No joke. Bow. Fucking. Ties.

But no, you shout; no! Not bow ties! They're the domain of "hip" young conservative pundits like Tucker Carlson! They'll never be fit for a progressive young dynamo like myself! Well, that's where you're wrong. Y'all are forgettin' one thing, the man who made bow ties awesome in the first place:


Yo.

Yep. That's Lester B. Pearson - my personal favorite Prime Minister of Canada - throwin' down the Gauntlet of Style. You think you're man/woman enough to step to his game? Huh? Ya pansy-ass mofos? Think you can mess with L.B. Fresh? Let's see you bring it, then. Starting rockin' the ol' BT, and we'll see how thug y'all are. Remember, Streets is Watchin'.

On that note, if rappers haven't been referencing Lester B. Pearson in their lyrics, they need to start immediately. If they can print Trudeau's face on women's undergarments, then pop culture can at least do this for me.

Ridin' with my homes L.B. Fresh
Slappin' down fools like Baker's D
LBJ, he tried some frontin'
But you don't fuck wit' LBP

Dread of Wasabi

Many of you who read my last post were probably thinking I was going a bit overboard when I described my family as "screwball comedic action stars." Perhaps I was. But there have definitely been enough occasions where - through sheer force of will or blind stupid luck - we end up in bizarre situations that could end with severe bodily harm. My cousin gets into a fight with six guys at a company party. My mother is chased through the woods by a bear. And I'm not even going to get into what good ol' Uncle L. has done. Me, I'm not immune to this either. And although my latest story isn't as interesting as the examples given so far, at least it does confirm that I have the mighty Timmers blood flowing through my veins.

It happened a few nights ago, after the store was closed. I was working around the till, counting the cash and whatnot, when for no reason whatsoever the panic alarm went off. Common sense would dictate that if you have a panic alarm, you would want it to be silent so as to not agitate whoever is robbing/beating you. I guess our alarm company doesn't believe that, as our panic alarm wails like a sumbitch. Good thing I decided to wait until after the guy left the store to hit it when we were robbed oh so long ago. Anyway, after a frantic dash to input the code, I went behind the counter to unplug my computer from the phone line. You see, after the alarm goes off, the alarm company phones immediately to check the situation. If there isn't an answer, they contact the police. But because the alarm is going off on its own accord at least twice a day, we (the staff) are answering the phone and having this fun conversation:

"Hello! Is everything alright?"
"Yes, the alarm went off accidentally, again."
"The alarm doesn't go off by accident."
"Well, it did."
"But it doesn't."
"But I'm telling you it did!"
"You must have hit the button."
"I was on the other side of the store!"
"No you weren't, button-hitter."
"No, really, I was!"
"Button-hitter, button-hitter, button-hitter..."

Oh, the fun times with security services. So, I sat and waited. Ten minutes passed, and still no phone call. I was getting ready to phone them myself, when I saw a face in the store window. When I made eye contact, they jumped out of sight. Oh man, they had called the police in! Crap. I walked to the front door to see two bewildered officers staring at me, guns at the ready. You know, although this wasn't the first time somebody was ready to shoot me at the first sign of a wrong move, you just never really get over a thing like that. After opening the door with a greeting, one of them asked who the hell I was and what the hell was going on. Seeing as perhaps this wasn't the best time for my trademark "humour", I gave them the straight dope. And by that I mean I gave them straightforward answers, not passed them a doobie. Otherwise I wouldn't be typing this right now. After one of the nice officers scanned the store to check if I was telling the truth, I got a stern reprimand to phone the security service right away the next time this happened. I didn't feel the need to correct them on the issue of who phones who. Who could blame their annoyance, really; they raced over here expecting the worst and instead found some asshole sitting around and watching Homestar Runner.

Sooo... how was your night?

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Ah, yes. What a day. As usual, I had the idea of coming to work and banging out this post as soon as possible. What I didn't seem to recognize is that 1) the local paper came out today, and 2) it was a reasonably nice out. And so, I was inundated with people desperate to see this week's Police Report. And when combined with the sweaty khaki-clad patriarchs dragging their demonic children in for ice cream, you've got a stone cold recipe for fun! But nah, that wasn't so bad; it's should be expected in my line of work. What was different were the hordes of teenage girls raiding the candy aisles. I tell ya, for one straight hour it was nothing but teenage girls in the store. For all you perverts out there, it wasn't as cool as it sounds. Unless you have some fetish for rampant giggling stupidity. I actually feel sorry for teenage guys, having no other dating options besides them. Sheesh.

(Note: Joel understands that teenage girls come in many different varieties, and he doesn't mean to paint them all with the same brush. Just the really annoying ones.)

But onto this post's reason for being: My summer vacation!

Yes, for five whole days, I was basking in the sun at our cabin outside of Kelowna. Nothing but the majestic Shuswaps occupying my field of vision. There's nothing more relaxing than sitting on a dock and reading a book as the sun sets. But getting to that point was an entirely different story. Driving through beautiful mountain scenery? That was cool. Being sandwiched between two semi-trucks wasn't. And having no radio reception along with a tape selection consisting of Dean Martin, The Statler Brothers, and Green Day didn't help stem my growing insanity. And what the hell is with those bastard minivans passing me at a full fifty klicks over the speed limit? Safety conscious, my ass.

But I arrived safe and sound in hot and sweaty Winfield. You assholes complaining about hot days in Alberta should go out west sometime. This was tempered by easy access to the lake, however. All you had to do was follow a narrow, winding path down a steep cliff. No wonder nobody in my family drinks at these things anymore. It really would've helped, because the people who went down by the water were more content to work on their bloody tans than to do something exciting. I, for my part, attempted to liven up the proceedings by tossing people into the water and flipping over every person foolhardy enough to pass by on their tubes or air mattresses, but it was akin to trying to chop down a tree with a stream of piss. Stupid family.

Back up at the cabin things were interesting, but not in a good way. There was a nice infestation of wasps going on. My uncle devoted himself to their destruction with several "ingenious" traps (consisting of pop bottles with holes in the side) but he eventually gave up and told everybody to ignore them. Of course, one day later he was stung on his tongue while going to take a sip of wine. Sweet irony; is there no better mistress? I didn't escape unscathed, either; while I was walking up for supper one bastard of a wasp kamikazed the back of my head. Which as you can guess was followed by a stream of loud expletives, all for the benefit of the four year olds a scant ten feet away. Such a positive influence, I am. I fully expect my young pupils to be screaming "FUCK SHIT FUCK COCKSUCKER!" any moment now.

It might be disappointing to know that there were no gigantic startling secrets being revealed this year; much like any other year. No, when your family's Dutch there's not that many things that are unknown. In the absence of drama there were a lot of interesting stories instead. Most of them belonging to my Uncle Dirk, as usual. Such as when the family first moved over from Holland one of his classmates told him the proper way to greet people in Canada was to say a gracious "Fuck You!" while giving them the finger. I think he went for three minutes at most before he received the strap. An even better story is his last stint as a truck driver. He came upon a turn he thought he wouldn't be able to make, so he leapt out of the vehicle and watched as it drove off the side of the road. The sad thing is that stuff like this is rather commonplace in our family history; everybody has a tendency of acting like screwball comedic action stars.

But these things must come to an end sometime, and for me earlier than most everyone else. Even though I tacked another day of rest and relaxation on to the four I originally planned on, any more time off and I'd be flat broke. So, I hit the road early in the morning, and didn't end up in Rocky until 6:30 that evening. An hour and a half late for work. So, on top of my road weariness I had to deal with customers. Whooooooo.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this brief account of my wee vacation. Frankly, I don't expect anybody to get this far. But if you did, you deserve a pat on a back, especially one from the opposite sex. So go get one.

Blogrollin'

Yessiree, that's a brand spankin' shiny and new link list on the sidebar. You best go on and look at it a moment 'fore I continue.

Done?

I'm always trying to think of new and exciting things for my blog, and while I was in the middle of an ol' ponderin' session, I was hit with inspiration. Nobody discusses their blogroll! Maybe that's what I should do! Hoo boy, that was a humdinger of an idea. After all, why shouldn't I acquaint my new readers with that cast of crazies? They ARE there for a reason. And hey, I'm sure the linkees wouldn't mind the publicity.

Okay, yeah; I was bored. So sue me.

Steve Smith - You know who this guy is. If you don't, then what's your problem? Why are you even here? Acquaint yourself immediately, before I die of shock at your pig ignorance.

Heather Wallace - When I first started this thing, my Journals of Note section was rather sparse. So, I figured that anybody nice enough to leave a few comments was deserving enough to earn a spot. She was the first person to meet those requirements. I don't know too much about her besides her love of CPAC, but she was kind enough to recommend an excellent book to me, so she gets to stay on the list. Not that she gives a flying fuck.

Sports Ross - Hmmm. This guy's an enigma; I think he likes movies or something. Not entirely sure.

Brodieclerk - The third person to be ensnared by the "leave comments, get added" rule. But I was rather surprised to see he reciprocated almost immediately. Intrigued, I added him to my Messenger list and found out that he was an awesome guy to talk to. So cheers, Brodieclerk; keep defying that taco and adding to your Evil Empire!

Nicholas Tam - And another comment leaver bites the dust. But his site is excellent regardless, and you're missing out if you don't read it. He always manages to write convincing, intelligent, and highly entertaining posts. Really, he could write about the virtues of sticking your penis in a meat slicer and I would wholeheartedly believe him.

Dane Lutz - Hey, I'm a contributer to that blog, so why wouldn't I add him?

Jermey Kerklaan - A friend of mine since I was but a wee lad. I told him I'd shoot him if he didn't make a blog, so I'd be a big giant ass if I didn't give him a link.

Uncle John - His name is John. He's my uncle. Need I say more?

Janet Lo - Well, she met the requirements before Nicholas Tam did, but for some odd reason I kept putting off the adding of her to my list. But she's on there now, so hopefully that makes up for it. My apologies, Miss/Ms./Mrs. Lo...

Krista Watson - Now, she's never left a comment here. But I was rather amused by the 100 comments for her 100th post thing, which I thought was a great idea. And when combined with her almost painful coolness, it's reason enough to give her some props.

Points of Information - An excellent site populated by people who would punch me in the face if they ever met me in real life.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

This is sad. I've only made two posts over the past nine days. You might think that this is due to an epiphany I had while splashing about in the cool water of the Shuswaps. You might think I've finally realized that my blog should be about my life, and not the other way around. But you might also think that Canadian Idol is worthwhile entertainment, so let's not put too much emphasis on what you think. No, I just... well, I just haven't gotten around to it. You see, I've been meaning to write about what I did on my little vacation last week. But every time I go to do it, I keep getting interuppted; it being the weekend and all. What's really annoying is that it's the slow kind of busy; there's always somebody in the store and they always take at least ten minutes to make up their mind. But I'll be getting the last laugh. When it's winter and everybody's under six feet of snow, they'll realize they spent their valuable summer months sitting around and eating candy. Hah!

I did manage to gussy up the ol' link list a bit. You might notice a few new ones. The hyperbolic adjectives have been lost, and they've been replaced by quotes lifted from everybody's blogs. 'Tis a much better representation of what to expect, if you take the risk of clicking on their names. Funnily enough, when you consider the amount of work put into it, it took me almost FIVE WHOLE HOURS over the course of TWO DAYS to complete. I should say that I did it while I was on shift, before you think I'm the blogging equivalent of Brick Tamland. All in all, that should give you an accurate picture of what my weekend at work's been like. Blargh...

I Fought the Road and the Road Won

There are lots of intelligent people in this world. And as a rule, they don't drive nine hours straight and go to work as soon as they hit town. I am not one of them.

Oh yeah, and a wasp kamikazed the back of my head.

Details of my trip to follow when I stop wanting to kill each and every one of you.

The Getaway

I met Dane for lunch this afternoon, and one of the topics up for discussion was the length of my posts. "Dere too many words," he sputtered with his mouth full of pizza, "You know I can't read good!" Well Dane, this one's for you. Short and simple, with pretty pictures to boot. Now prop up your chin and stop drooling all over yourself.

I got new glasses today. The JDN stock value skyrocketed twenty points due to speculation, but came crashing down early this evening due to disappointment in the design changes.

You may remember Rob and Lynn, two of my associates who had the "honour" of being mentioned in the second post of this blog. Well, today was the grand opening of their store, The Hart Mart a.k.a. Glacier Boardshop! I pencilled in a little face time to see how those two crazy kids were doin'. They must be doing something right, because kids with Glacier decks are getting banned from the Bike n' Board. No soup for you, Loyal Mah! But it's a nice store, I must admit. Rob and Lynn are going to be the cool aunt and uncle of Rocky's board-obsessed youth. In other news, I might be designing the website for their business. I've submitted some of my previous work, and they're going to decide if I have the necessary cojones. My asking price, if they think I'm good enough for the job, is a new pair of shoes. God bless communal trade. To help curry their favor, I bought some shirts and a pair of shorts. They were bought with the special Fuck It discount, where the cashier makes an error in my favor but doesn't feel like fixing it. Thanks, Lynn!

Normally, I don't like to wear shorts. However, I'm going on a mini-vacation for the next four days in the glorious Shuswaps of British Columbia, which has made them rather necessary. Yes, we're having our annual family get-together, and it's special because this will be the first appearance I've made in four years. I'm not sure if I'll be posting during that time, but I'm bringing my laptop anyway. You know, in case something cool happens. Heh.

What will we be doing? Well, if it's like any other year, we'll be...

...seeing the sights!


...tubing!


...engaging in polite and intelligent discussions!


...sledding?


...encouraging positive youth behavior!


...dreaming the impossible dream!

Gonna be a blast, I tells ya! See you in four - whether that means days or hours, I'm not entirely sure.

The Thunderstorm Diaries

PART 1: The Announcement

Joel: (singing)

Mop, mop, mop, all day long
Mop, mop, mop while I sing this song
Gonna mop the floor, gonna make it shine
Then I'm going to go huff some turpentine...

Radio: (song playing)

I'm gonna run to you
If the feelings right, I'm gonna...SQUEEEEEEEE!

(siren goes on for twenty minutes)

Frantic Radio Woman: OH FUCK! This is the Alberta Emergency Broadcast System! This is not a fucking test! Here's Environment Canada! AAAAGH!

Scientist: Yo. Heavy shit goin' down near Lacombe and Gull Lake. Lotsa tornadoes be touching down. They headin' to Ponoka to fuck shit up old school. Foshizzle.

Frantic Radio Woman: We're doomed! DOOMED! This is the New Perfect Storm! So don't use the phone! Bye!

Joel: 'Hwell! Now there's a fine how-do-you-do!

PART 2: Inner Monologue

Man, the store is really dead. This is cool. Now I'm here all by myself! No customers! Whooopeee! Hmmm... what should I do... oh wait, here comes somebody. What a stupid asshole. What is he doing here? Doesn't he realize it's raining right now? Stay home, you fucking douchebag!

Joel: Good evening, sir!
Customer:Grunt.

Fuck you! I was all set to have a gay old time, and you had to come and ruin everything! I hate you! I hate you, stupid dickhead! Die! DIE DIE DIE!

Customer: How much is a bottle of Pepsi?
Joel: (cheery) $1.67, sir!
Customer: Oh.

What, is our Pepsi too expensive for you, cock-smoker? Huh! Stupid whiny bitch! I'm sick of your bullshit! Oh, I see you're done now. About fucking time. Dumbass.

Customer: Well, that should be everything. Oh man, is it ever wet outside!

No. Fucking. Shit!

Joel: Here's your change, here's your bag; thank you, and have yourself a good night!
Customer: See ya! You too!

Asshole. Well, maybe I'll check out the blogs. Oh. Wait. They said not to use the phone! NOOOO!

PART 3: Amusement

Joel: (singing and dancing)

Macho, Macho Man!
I want to be a Macho Man...

Customer: Um, hello?

Shit!

PART 4: An Open Letter

Dear Weather,

Everybody complains about the weather, but nobody does anything about it. Well, I'm writing tonight to change all that. Tonight, there was yet another thunderstorm in the Rocky area. That's not what I have a problem with. What I have a problem with is that you decided to send it away with two hours left on my shift. Let me explain something about humanity; we don't appreciate something until it's taken away. Since most of the people in this town are hydrophobic weiners, you severely limited the movement of a good number of our population. I'm actually kind of fond of this, being that less people moving around means less people harassing me over junk food. But once the rain stopped, all these people who were sitting inside decided they would enjoy their new-found "freedom" to move about. Therefore, on top of the typical rush I get during the last two hours, I also had to deal with an influx of said hydrophobic weiners. I would appreciate it if next time you decide to throw a storm at us you would keep it going until after closing time.

Sincerely,

Joel

Mo' Money, Moore Problems

I'm taking an ill-advised break from frothy frivolity today, and instead I'm going to indulge in some polemic pontification. Just as a trial run, you see. If I crash and burn, you won't be seeing much more of this here. Cross your fingers and make your wish as to the outcome, because here I go:

All of you should be aware by now of the latest controversy concerning Michael Moore's latest film, Farenheit 9/11. It's yet another in a string of misrepresentations contained in the movie coming to light, this one concerning the doctoring of the front page of the Pantagraph, a newspaper based in Illinois. Supporters of the film and Moore in general are shrugging this off as no big deal; after all, they say, it was just some simple editing. It's not like Moore out and out lied. I have to disagree with these sentiments, for I believe that the issue at hand is representative of bigger problem. First off, I should admit that I'm ambivalent when it comes to Michael Moore himself. I do think he's doing a valuable service by acting as a dissenter, but I'm not particularly impressed with the actual quality of his dissent. Why? Farenheit 9/11 has one purpose: to prevent Bush from being re-elected. It's an admirable goal, but I'm not so sure it's going to succeed. What a lot of people fail to recognize is that despite the film's box office success, Moore may only be preaching to the choir. The thing is, there's a good portion of the American population who are either a) undecided or b) blindly supporting Bush. These are the people Moore desperately needs to reach with his film. Unfortunately, the stream of reports concerning the misrepresentations contained within aren't exactly inspiring these people to line up at the box office. What's all the more frustrating is that Moore didn't need to resort to these; surely, there should have been more than enough solid material concerning George W. Bush to make a convincing argument without them. What really worries me however, is the potential for a backlash; one which could actually increase and cement in place the popular support for Bush. When all is said and done and it's time for the American public to cast their votes this November, it could be that Farenheit 9/11 will have done more harm than good. It'd be a vicious irony if this film helped Bush win the election rather than making him lose.

SSRTC

Oh my, have I ever been lax. It appears I'm not fulfilling my end of the bargain. It's been two weeks since I posted about a certain topic, and because of that, I'm not meeting SteveCon standards. This calls for some immediate rectification. I'm lacking anything of quality at the moment, however, so I'm simply going to reprint a conversation I had on MSN Messenger today. It's without the consent of the person of the person I had it with, but I'm not going to reveal who it was, so hopefully the whole karma thing will balance itself out.

Person: Oh, thats rather disappointing....very much like meeting Steve Smith for the first time.

Joel: You mean he's not some bohemian god? Striking down infidels left right and centre? Crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him, and hearing the lamentations of their women?

[pause]

Person: Not quite..

There, requirements met for another two weeks. We now return to our regularly scheduled blog.

Yay! More Stupid Tests!

What Type of Villain are You?

mutedfaith.com.


Yay! I'm a despondent villain! Yay! Watch me mope around... evilly. Yay!

Which Ethical Philosophy Do I Follow?

1. Jean-Paul Sartre (100%)
2. Kant (96%)
3. Stoics (79%)
4. John Stuart Mill (76%)
5. Ayn Rand (69%)
6. Spinoza (69%)
7. Jeremy Bentham (64%)
8. Prescriptivism (64%)
9. Aquinas (53%)
10. David Hume (46%)
11. Nietzsche (46%)
12. Epicureans (44%)
13. Nel Noddings (44%)
14. Thomas Hobbes (43%)
15. Aristotle (41%)
16. St. Augustine (30%)
17. Ockham (29%)
18. Cynics (28%)
19. Plato (25%)

My #1 result for the SelectSmart.com selector, Canadian Prime Ministers, is King, 1921-1926 // 1926-1930 // 1935-1948

Shoot me now.

you are seagreen #2E8B57

Your dominant hues are cyan and green. Although you definately strive to be logical you care about people and know there's a time and place for thinking emotionally. Your head rules most things but your heart rules others, and getting them to meet in the middle takes a lot of your energy some days. Your saturation level is higher than average - You know what you want, but sometimes know not to tell everyone. You value accomplishments and know you can get the job done, so don't be afraid to run out and make things happen. Your outlook on life can be bright or dark, depending on the situation. You are flexible and see things objectively.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

And that's all she wrote for today. Look forward to more test results in a month or so.

Well, No Shit.

See what Care Bear you are.

Work Schmerk.

Okay, I'm breaking my silence on all matters work-related today. Please bear with me as I vent some of my frustrations.

The thing about being in retail/service is that the worst incidents don't automatically make for the worst days. A customer flipping their top, a rack of glass bottles tumbling to the floor or shoplifting does not an awful day make, no matter how unsettling these individual incidents might be. Besides, there's something oddly cathartic about shit hitting the fan. No, the worst days at work are formed by the little things. The minor little annoyances. Individually, they aren't a problem, but when they're stacked up over a period of seven hours they start snapping your synapses. It's like setting a pissed off gorilla loose to wreak havoc in your mind. That bastard'll rip apart your patience and stomp on your tolerance until the mere sight of a customer sends you into a frothing rage.

When I started this, I had in mind a listing of the particular little things that annoy me over the edge of the reason. As is usual with my life, distractions arose and I had to put this post to the side as I dealt with them. While I was busy, I realized that a lot of these things are part of one main issue. It all arises from the nature of the customers on the shift. Certain natures are worse than others; after all, who enjoys work when the customers are feeling antagonistic? But the customer mood behind my worst nights isn't anger; it's boredom. Ennui. People plodding through the aisles; their eyes half-closed. Half-heartedly studying our stock. Tedium writ large. Time flows like molasses. This is how humanity ends; not with a bang, but a whimper. I can try to fight it, but if it continues for too long, I'll eventually start to feel bored as well. Their mood has informed mine, and mine will inform the mood of future customers. It's a stupid cycle that's impossible to break once it's underway. Throw in all the other bullshit and you've got yourself one bad night. Bored AND stressed. What a combination.