So it's been one of those weeks:
Not necessarily bad, yet not necessarily great. kind of 'Borscht' in a way. Typing this post has itself been a lesson in patience what with the letters 'c,h,f and w' on my keyboard now just deciding to get off their lazy asses and put in an hour of work.
So while my hand-me-down office equipment (err...home equipment, yeah...home home equipment) is working, I thought I'd share with you the little pleasures in my life. No, not the obvious things like videogames, fiances, guinea pigs and pure china white cocaine, but the daily things that always seem to provide an odd yet profound source of entertainment and calm.
Glad Sandwich Bags
Meat goes in, seal goes shut and as I gently push down on this inflated utopia, the hiss of escaping air fills the kitchen. It's almost Zen like really; a sense that I have accomplished 'freshness' or fullfilled my manly duty of preserving meat for future consumption.
Ahh stapling. Cli-clunk. Ahh. Back in grade 2, I was one of the kids who managed to staple his index finger to a mother's day card and ever since then I've held a deep respect for such a subtle yet strong device. Maybe it's also because stapling means I'm filing - which means I'm done something - which then means I have more time to phone in another blog post. Or maybe this newly discovered passion is my mind's last desperate attempt to pull something of meaning from an otherwise cold and heartles 9 to 5 experience. Or maybe its cause its red...and I like. Cli-clunk. teehee.
Real Estate Porn
If somebody ever told me I'd actually watch tv programming about people buying and selling houses, I'd have probably slapped them in public and later planted incriminating pictures of young boys on their computer right before phoning the local media.
Actually, that reminds me of funny story ... but maybe now's not appropriate.
I pin this guilty pleasure on wish fullfillment; a way to live through people who actually have the finances and wherewithall to purchase a place to live. Being in Red Deer, the most we'd afford is a hovel next to the 7-11 and even then we'd have to sublet the refridgerator box to a middle income family. I'm rambling. I like home shows - end of story.
Any and all. At any time. Cheese on salad. Cheese on Steak. Cheese on friggin cheese in a cheese parfay surrounded by cheesey bread. I picture heaven as a city built on a foundation of deliciously peelable pillars and invigorated with the occasional parmasan storm. And for dinner? Salmon. Because I also like salmon.
Of the sweater variety.
Getting back a Twoonie as Change
I have a videogame fund. Get over it. I also have laundry to do so any loonie or quarter I get back is immediately considered laundry money whereas twoonies are open game. Just this last weekend I asked for a Wendy's cashier to trade two loonies for a twoonie. She had to get her manager's permission to re-open the till. Was it worth it? For me? No. She had no twoonies - BUT it taught her a valuable lesson about change management.
You. Reading This.
Really. When someone mentions offhand that they read my blog I feel pity followed by tremendous love followed by committment issues and me avoiding your instant messages. But please, continue to read. If not for me...but the children.
The conclusion of obviously lame blogs.
Monday, February 04, 2008
So it's been one of those weeks: