Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
While I'm sure that most of you won't have a clue what I'm going on about (unlike all those other times, when I make perfect sense), You Bet Your Life is one of those (very) rare examples of a movie star doing a TV show without it being sad. Groucho always shines, no matter what he was in and this clip is no exception. The only thing about this clip is that for as much as he shines, this sweet old lady outshines him, just by being herself.
It makes me laugh every time I see it.
Monday, March 26, 2007
This raises that age old question. Just because you can, does that mean you should?
In other news, South Korea is cloning considerably less cuddly animals. But to be fair, they have given them incredibly lame names to make up for it.
Now I'm just going to sit back and wait for the conspiracy theorists to start talking about how South Korea is amassing an army of attack clones.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Friday, March 23, 2007
I find this strange because, well, so far as I know my site has nothing to do with that. So if you're here looking for "crazy whities killing iraqs", you're in the wrong place.
Oh, and please seek help. I'm pretty sure there's something wrong with you.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
If you've been coming here a while or know me at all, you'll forgive me while I state the obvious. I'm a Marx Bros. fan. I think I've got just about all of their movies and I love them all. Despite having seen them enough times to know them inside and out, they still make me laugh. So today is a special day.
It's Leonard Marx's Birthday! I'd say that you probably know him better as Chico... but then I don't expect many of you know him at all. Well it's my blog and I love him, so there.
The video clip is from Animal Crackers, It's one of my favourite scenes in one of my favourite movies. And if you don't get the line "I'm a dreamer, Montreal." please go away.
Happy Birthday, Chico.
They're all fairly obvious nicknames, so we all know who we're talking about. Like Mr. Balls (the guy who carries around a duffel full of various kind of balls. He likes to fondle them. No, I'm not making that up. He used to be stink-and-stare, but Mr. Balls is so much better.), Bling-bling (the guy who's always wearing more gold chains than Mr. T.), Mr. Beefeater Gin (the creepy old guy who used to drink in the back corner and thought no one knew.), Paper Friend (the guy who used to come in and take twenty papers at a time and leave us with a huge mess), Mr. Magoo (the guy with the big thick glasses, who knows everything about everything... don't get him started.), Wig Lady and Albert (a brother and sister team, old as the hills and cranky as hell. I've never heard Albert speak, he just gives everyone dirty looks. One of my coworkers once thought Wig Lady was dead.), Little Ming Pao (an ancient and very tiny asian man who doesn't speak a word of english, who come in just to read the Ming Pao. He's one of many "Ming Pao" regs, but certainly our favourite.) and Nazi Guy or the Broad Street Brawler (Severely racist and schizophrenic. It's a bad combination. As much as I know a lot of his problems aren't his fault, it doesn't make me any more willing to put up with a bigot.)
Today one of our regs (as tends to happen every once in a while) went apeshit.
Creepy eyebrow guy, aside from the obvious creepiness of the looks he gives people, is just generally creepy and no one like him. He was having trouble with his card and accessing the internet. I could hear him talking to someone about it clear across the library. He was getting angrier and angrier as he went along. I finally had to see who he was yelling at (hoping it would be The Asshole), so I poked my head out of the isle I was in. To my surprise it was our library head, who wasn't budging.
C.E.G. decided to up the ante. He went from being on the verge of yelling to full on hollering. I don't think anyone in the library missed it. He also decided to play the race card. He was loosing the argument and he figured it was the ace up his sleeve.
Yelling at the top of your lungs that the library is racist and then yelling "Fuck you!" at the top of your lungs at the library head is not the best move to make. Especially when there are people of a number of different races all using the computers without incident. Also the library, to my knowledge, hasn't yet implemented any policies to fuck with you and you alone. And just to clairify, when the library follows it policies in regards to replacing a card and you don't like how it works, that doesn't make us racist (the same rules apply to everyone), that does not mean we're discriminating against you (It's the same procedure for everyone) and we're not depriving you of your rights (I'm pretty sure there's nothing stating it's your right to act like an asshole and disrupt everyone's day).
Besides all that, screaming obscenities in a public place, to my knowledge, has never gotten anyone what they want. People tend to take back any of the offers they may have made to try and rectify your problem as soon as you resort to this tactic.
So our C.E.G. has been banned. We're all glad to see him go, really. I can only hope it's permanent. He's been more trouble than he's worth since the first day he set foot in the library.
I've developed tendinitis again, which sucks. Normally I get it in my left hand/wrist, this time it's my right. I went yesterday and bought a new brace (my old one is left hand only) and I've been generally cautious with it. I don't want it to last any longer than it has to, so aggravating it by trying to do to much would be a bad idea. Not only that but it hurts, a lot. So if I do try and do to much I get a very clear reminder of why I'm supposed to be careful.
At work, it's part of my job to collect and refile the magazines and newspapers at intervals throughout the day. There are always a lot of magazines, they're heavy and awkward to work with and the sorting table we have is small and way too low. But it's what we've got to do, so we deal with it.
We're doing pick-up more often right now because we're doing a magazine survey. That means we collect and sort the magazines and then mark down how many of each magazine was pulled from the shelves. That's all well and good but it does take much longer to finish because of the recording and patrons being uncooperative.
Today we went up to do pick-up at 12:30, like always. Collected and sorted them in to their piles. After that they need to be put in alphabetical order and recorded. Due to my tendinitis, lifting and sorting the piles is just out of the question. I can barely lift one book, let alone a ten pound pile of slippery magazines. So I asked one of the ladies I was working with (Let's call her Ms. X) if she would mind sorting and I would do the recording. She didn't have a problem with that. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one I was working with.
The Bitch was in today as well. And of course she acted in a completely rational, professional and compassionate manner.
While giving me a dirty look (about the fourth today) she said in her oh-so-snotty tone, "You're going to have to get better. You have a job to do, you know."
Oh! Is that why I go to the library all the time? I have a job to do! Here I thought that I was just there to fuck around and take in the atmosphere.
"I know I do," I said, fighting the urge to backhand her (more for the sake of my hand than her face). "I'm trying to. It's not like I'm having fun with this."
And this might come as a complete shock, but I'm really not having fun with this. I'm not enjoying not being able to use my hand. I'm not enjoying being in pain. And I'm really not enjoying your bullshit.
"Well, we're not having fun either." She shoots back at me.
Oh, well excuse me. I didn't realize I was that big a drain on your fucking day.
How can anyone think that this is any way to talk to someone? What would possibly make you think that it's okay to act like such a fucking bitch to someone who's hurt?
Because it's my fault my hand is fucked up, right? Because I really love loosing half a day's pay because I have to go home to rest my hand, right? Because I'm just fucking faking it, right?
What the fuck is wrong with you rude, useless, pain in the ass, bitch? God, I fucking hate you.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
They didn't work.
So then I drank some water, thinking I was dehydrated.
Then I took some anti-histamines... I know, I like pills. Leave me alone.
Now I'm just out of it and dizzy as all hell, on top of my headache. Oh, and did I mention I'm at work? And I've developed tendinitis, again.
It's going to be a very long day. (I'm not even going to try and explain how long it took me to write this post. I kept typing everything wrong.)
Monday, March 19, 2007
Once I have some, I'll post a picture of the disaster that are my old shoes.
Friday, March 16, 2007
If you haven't read or heard John Hodgman's Areas of My Expertise yet, you should stop reading and go remedy that. Right now. It's brilliant and you're life is incomplete without it.
I've been listening to the wonderfully funny Mr. Hodgman reading his masterpiece on my iPod, but I've had to stop listening to it in public. When you suddenly burst out laughing in the middle of a crowded bus people get the idea that you're crazy, though it's best way to get a seat to yourself.
On a side note... Within the book there lies a list. The list contains 700 hobo names. The list could not go ignored by the artistic peoples of the world. No, no, no. So in addition to Areas of My Expertise you may also bow before the might that is The 700 Hobos Project!
You can also listen to the list here.
Monday, March 12, 2007
I know you may not know me, I understand it must be hard to see anyone with your head that far up your ass. But I know you. Trust me, we all do. Pricks like you tend to get a lot of notice.
I would also understand that you don't know me as you seem to think you're so far above me. Trust me, fuckwit, getting paid more doesn't put you above me. It never has and it never will. You're still a little bitch.
I'm addressing you because, aside from your normal aggravating antics, you're pissing me off. A lot. So I just want to clear the air on why.
First off, like I said, you make a fair amount of money. So it would be nice to see you work for it once and a while. I'm getting sick as hell of having to do your fucking job for you. When someone asks you for help finding something, it is in fact your job to help them. Standing up behind your desk and pointing to the general location of an item is NOT helping. You actually have to get up and walk
over to where the item is.
See the problem is, if you don't, in twenty minutes when they can't find what they're looking for they certainly aren't going to go back to you. You didn't help the first
time, why would you the second? So they're going to come ask me.
Second off, since you're such a useless fuck, calling other people's competence in to question is a really, really bad idea. Especially when you're doing it to cover your own ass. We all know how to do our jobs and we all know when you're full of shit about something.
And lastly, we all know that you take things without checking them out. You're not fooling anyone. That's tantamount to stealing, you stupid fuck.
You've got no allies left and no one is going to put up with
your shit much longer. Consider that next time you get all high and mighty.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
More than one site I've visited in the last week has posted pictures of "fat" and "anorexic" Jared. I'd love to tell you what sprung to mind when I saw the pics, but I don't have words for it. My brain just kind of recoiled in horror. I'm not sure which version of his is worse, but both seem to be wearing the droopiest tighty whities known to man (just typing that made me gag). And they all look like the kind of pictures some nerd/freak/pervert takes of himself in his basement with an old polariod. (I'd post them, but honestly, I don't want to look at them ever again)
What happened to the good old days when everyone had forgotten who this guy was? Suddenly I'm reading about his shitty band and seeing pictures of him in the lamest Emo-wear available. He's threatening Elijah Wood (not that I'm discouraging threatening him, it's just rediculous that Jared Leto threatens anybody) for not liking his band. And now he's getting mangled at his own concert (not that I'm surprised, if I went to a concert and realised it was 30 Seconds to Mars I'd probably mangle him too) and people actually care! What the fuck?
And who is the fuck-up that started answering OJ Simpson's calls again? Here's another looser I thought we were done with. Why can't people accept their shame and shunning quietly and do everyone a big favour by just fucking off?
After stunning the world with his own stupidity by publicly announcing "If I had done it" or whatever the hell the book was called, you'd think that any lingering interest in him would have vanished completely. Everyone had finally gotten to a place in their lives where guilty-not guilty didn't matter any more. He'd faded, nicely. But he couldn't just leave with what little dignity he had left (and it is very little), he had to slap everyone in the face and say "Look at me! I'm so ridiculous I've started to morph into a cartoon villain!"
There was a brief moment when I was actually hopeful that it was the end. There couldn't possibly be more. When the plug was pulled on the book (the drugs must have worn off) and he was a laughingstock, that it was over. He'd surely go away again. But you see what even a little optimism gets you? Disappointment and pain, folks. Every time.
Now he's at it again, claiming that Anna Nicole's baby is his. Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?
Finally Britney Spears.
Sweetheart, no one is laughing with you any more. They're all laughing at you. You're stupid, sad, annoying, insane, drugged up and washed out and it's all your own fault. Life's a bitch, eh?
You had a pretty good thing going there for a while and then you married the most aggravating leech on the planet. And bore his children. You got fat and showed us all how disgusting you really are (we would have worked it out eventually, but you just kind of threw it in our faces. Didn't you?). Men's penises around the world wept at your acne-ridden, cheese puff smeared, nasty self. And we all watched as you moved into a tie with Michael Jackson for "most questionable judgement regarding child safety".
I never thought I'd see the day where I would catch myself thinking that those children would be better of with K-Fed. But here it is.
I'd suggest suicide, but after a month of being subjected to all of Anna Nicole's bullshit, I really hope you don't. Freaks of that magnitude seem to become even more annoying postmortem. So could you do us all a favour and fuck right off?