Thursday, October 28, 2010

:: A solution to the The Situation ::

Halloween is only a few days away, and it looks like Jersey Shore-themed costumes are awfully popular, which really shouldn't come as much of a surprise due to both the show's immense – if inexplicable – popularity and also the fact that douchebags of the world really like to show off their douchebaggyness (Ed Hardy shirts, after all, are not exactly understated).

I, of course, being of both good taste and a bad attitude, hate Jersey Shore. It's such a lowest-common-denominator show that it makes Rock of Love look like fucking Masterpiece Theatre. Sadly though, my hatred of the MTV program will do nothing to slow its popularity, nor the thousands – millions maybe – of Snooki and The Situation costumes that are sure to sprout up on the streets and at Halloween parties beginning tomorrow night.

All we can really hope for, I guess, is an increase in poison Halloween candy and firecracker accidents this year. Either that, or a bad batch of energy drinks and jagermeister.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

:: My dog, the jerk ::

Since getting our boxer-English bulldog cross, Gunnar, three weeks ago, I have mentioned to people, but not yet written about, his aversion for all things athletic. Yes, he's a boxer – typically a hyper breed, that requires much physical exercise. But he's also a bulldog.

A lazy, lazy bulldog.

And considering that I am, for the most part, a lazy, lazy person, we get along just great. (Minus the odd peeing on the carpet, of course.) But despite his dislike of walks – which in reality, might actually be of a love of the couch and lying down, more than anything – I still drag him outside every weekday morning at about 6 a.m., before I have to get ready for work.

Now, he doesn't usually do his business on these walks – he doesn't like to poop while on a leash, and by 6 a.m. Christene has usually put him out once already anyhow – and make no mistake about it, both of us would rather be sleeping, but I force the two of us to go outside because I think it's good to get some exercise, even 20 minutes worth.

And if ever I thought Gunnar's hatred of exercise was a mere coincidence, or a figment of my imagination, today sealed the deal.

Near the end of our walk, as we approached our house, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around to see a middle-aged man jogging towards us, out for his morning run. As a courtesy, I moved over to one side of the wide sidewalk, and pulled Gunnar over, too.

But then, as the runner came along side us, Guns – who's normally pretty laid back, and pays no mind to anybody, except if they're playing with him – leapt to the left, directly into the runner's path, nearly tripping him into a nearby planter as a result. Neither dog or man actually got hurt, and the jogger just kind of laughed and kept on truckin' along.

And Gunnar went back to his somewhat-calm walk as if nothing ever happened.

Then we both went in the house and sat happily on the couch – me drinking coffee, Gunnar eating a bunch of dog treats.

I had to give him something, after all. He earned it.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

:: Brain freeze ::

Yesterday afternoon, I sat at my desk and ate a big bowl of ice cream. Somebody I work with had bought a big tub of it, put it in the lunch room freezer and told some of us to help ourselves. I went and got some and came back to my desk.

Being that my desk is in a high-traffic area right near the lunchroom door (the office equivalent of getting a table near the washroom), there were no shortage of people – from other departments, and therefore not initially told of the ice-cream bounty – walking by and making comments about my ice cream.

This was incredibly annoying, as you may imagine. Then, it just got plain stupid.

Guy, leaving lunchroom: Hey, I didn't see any ice cream in there!
Me: Well, it's in there.
Guy: Where was it?
Me: It's ice cream, where do you think it was? I've give you a hint – it wasn't the microwave.
Guy: Weird, I never saw it.
Me: Did you look in the freezer?
Guy: Well, no, I didn't.
Me: Can't imagine why you wouldn't have known about it then.

These are the people I work with.
:: She was spouting cliches a mile a minute ::

I just overheard a woman on a phone call. In the span of no more than two minutes – and that's probably being generous – she said the following things about a person who was the subject of the phone conversation.

"She's bigger than life."

"She's got a mega-watt smile."

"She just lights up the room."

"She'd give you the shirt off her back."

So yes, this woman is probably a fantastic person – not to mention potentially topless – but what I am more concerned with is the fact that the person on this end of the line is apparently completely unable to form and express unique thoughts.

I mean, I work in sports, so I hear cliches all the time – about taking it one day at a time, giving it 110%, etc – but that's different. (I don't know why or how it's different, so don't ask, but it just is).

It's probably the same reason I hate – HATE – when I hear or read (lookin' at you, Facebook statuses) people spouting some cliche phrase and pass it off as wit or a deep thought*. It's not. It's lame, and does not make you intelligent. It makes you lame.

*Today's annoying example: Somebody on Twitter posted that lame quote about how "yesterday's history, tomorrow's a mystery and today is a gift. That's why they call it the present." Good one, jackass – real fucking original. You think that up all by yourself?

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

:: You dial 9-1, then when I say so, dial 1 again ::

So apparently Halloween is a big deal here in Milner Heights, our home of two-and-half weeks. About every second house seems to be decorated up with stuff. I've never seen anything quite like it, actually, but then again, it's a relatively small area, so maybe that's why it seems like a lot.

Anyways, on that note, I was out taking Gunnar for his daily 6 a.m. walk (which we both hate, by the way - we'd both rather stay in bed, especially Guns... he's tough to get going in the morning, which I can appreciate.)

And about 8 houses up the street from us, I noticed one house with its two front windows all boarded up. At first, I thought that somehow these windows of this new house had been smashed, but when I looked closer, I realized that the way the boards were put up, I think they were meant to look haphazard and sketchy.

You know, for Halloween.

The trouble is, these boarded up windows are the only decoration - if indeed that's what they are - outside of the entire house. No spooky witches or other statues, no black and orange ribbons or anything. Not even a pumpkin!

So that being the case, I'm really not 100% convinced that this house is festive. I'd say there's a decent chance there's some kind of situation going on in there - perhaps the residents are boarding up to prevent some kind of zombie attack, I don't know. Or perhaps it's a murder scene. The possibilities are endless.

All I know is that it, on its own, it makes the house look like some kind of white trash murder scene.

Which may, come to think of it, be the scariest decorations on the whole block. Well played, weirdos. Well played.

Monday, October 18, 2010

:: Minor annoyance of the day ::

People who say they "seen" something.

For example, the woman I just heard, who told somebody that "I seen that yesterday."

No, you fool, you saw something yesterday. You ain't seen nuthin'.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

:: Delayed response ::

Witnessed a very Seinfeldian moment today at the office. However, unlike Seinfeld, the moment was annoying rather than hilarious.

More than two hours ago, one co-worker made some faux-angry remark about how, if our department kept screwing up – thus directly affecting his department – he was going to send some people after us/get us in trouble, etc.... It was said in jest, we all chuckled, blah blah blah, end of moment.

And then we all moved on with our days.

One guy though – who is something of a socially-awkward rube and has been mentioned here, here and here– just couldn't let the moment die. What he also couldn't do, unfortunately, was come up with an on-the-spot, witty remark. Like I said, he's not that quick.

So, two hours pass, and he wanders back to the guy who made the fake-threats, and said, "Remember earlier when you said ....." and then proceeded with his hilarious comeback that he'd spent two hours crafting in his brain.

Couple problems. The first of course, is that two fucking hours passed. But secondly – perhaps most importantly – is that his finely crafted bit of hilarity was awful. Like, one of the top-5 lamest "jokes" I've ever heard.

Worse than a "dad" joke. Hell, even worse than a bad "dad" joke.

And then upon the joke falling flat, he topped it off with what's sadly become his signature line: "Right? Riiiight???"

At this rate, all I can hope for is that he soon takes a new job at Tyler Chicken.

Saturday, October 09, 2010

"Dogs are like babies you can swear at." - Christene

Say hello to my little friend....

Monday, October 04, 2010

:: Banana thief ::

Tonight while out picking up a few groceries at PriceSmart, I saw a guy steal five bananas.

That's it. Five bananas. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I was in the self-checkout area, just about to leave, when through the open bay-doors walked a youngish guy - probably mid-20s. He proceeded to walk towards the produce section right in front of him. He walked past a few bins of fruit until he got to the bin full of bananas. He took a few seconds, sorted through the bananas til he found five suitable ones - in two separate bunches - then picked them up and walked out.

The trick to successful thieving, or so I've heard, is confidence. Look like you own it. This banana thief clearly had read the handbook - he owned those bananas. Owned them hard.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder just compelled this guy to steal bananas. Why not apples? Nectarines? Shit, why not just rob a cashier?

:: Definition of irony (sort of) ::

While sitting at my desk, which is adjacent to the lunch room, I was just forced to listen to two women, both in their late-40s/early-50s, bitch and moan – quite viciously, I might add – about their respective elderly mothers.

About how they try to run their lives even now; question their parenting skills; how they were terrible parents themselves and that's why all their children escaped and moved far away, and how all they do is complain and blah blah blah. It got so obnoxious and loud, I almost told them to shut up.

But I didn't. Because the thing is, I don't think these two realize that, judging by the way they just spent their lunch hour complaining and whining, in 20-30 years they will probably turn out the exact same way.

Old. Bitter. Angry.

That'll teach 'em for annoying me.