Tuesday, February 21, 2006

consequences

"Avalanches are like the STD's of backcountry skiing, they make you shudder and say 'mmm...maybe not'"

Thursday, February 16, 2006

breast du poulet

Given the variety of notable, yet minor events happening at this time in my life, the following is a chapter by chapter “recap” on my thoughts, feelings, epiphanies and monsters.

-----------------------------------Scary------------------------------------------

Old single lady syndrome—I thought this happened only in the movies, but apparently not; they talk to themselves and their pets constantly, they do not let the pets leave their sight on pain of being reprimanded and slapped. Snoopy—they drink my milk when I am gone. After suspicions of said thievery, I preformed a controlled test which involved a lady, my milk, and my absence. My hypothesis was proved when the milk had less volume upon my return. Left over phobia—ladies such as this periodically throw away my left over food for concern of food poisoning. Stingy—in order to save money, some ladies have been known to turn the boiler off and claim that it is broken—scary.

------------------------------------Boring----------------------------------------

Today in Chapel I had an epiphany—worship sessions have not changed their songs since I was in 8th grade. Its like a musical testament to Saint Monotony. Anabaptist Theology—it’s a class, but it shouldn’t be. The locals refer to this class as crap-abaptist crap-pology due to their lower intestinal reaction upon entering the classroom.

------------------------------------Amazing--------------------------------------

This week I have seen the sun every day. As if trying to remember a dream, no one could quite pin-point exactly what that big yellow ball in the sky was, but after it was turned into a corporate money making scheme everyone remembered—the sun. (kind of like how no one would remember valentines day if it wasn’t a corporate scheme to sell chocolate, produce cavities, and improve the toothpaste industry (at this point I would like to add that toothpaste itself is a corporate scam—you don’t need it to clean your teeth)).

------------------------------------Fantastic-------------------------------------

Three nights ago I had a dream I was trying to sleep on an airplane with turbulence that could have out put the Pakistan earthquake to shame. Things were falling from the storage containers, women were screaming, children were crying, I was bouncing up and down and couldn’t manage to find my seat belt. Then I woke up and realized that I was not at 36,000ft going 600mph, no, I was in a trailer in a wind storm. The wind actually pushed the trailer about 2 inches—fantastic.

-----------------------------------Realization------------------------------------

I will never be a janitor. Ever again. Ever. On pain of a vacuumy, moppy death—so help me.

------------------------------------Mystery---------------------------------------

I live next to a chicken factory, truckloads of chickens go in but never come out. Where do they go? And if they do actually turn into chicken boob (a colloquialism for “Breast du Poulet”, which is French for “Chicky ala Dead”, which is upper class way of saying, “Chicken Breast”), what kind of systematic killing machine has some carnivoreistic crazy scientist developed to kill thousands of chickens within the space of hours—a mystery on par with microwave ovens and library ladies-why are they still walking when they died 50 years ago? We’ll answer that in our next edition of "Old Peole: Useless to society or good for making cookies out of?"

Monday, February 06, 2006

post marital medusa

Some of the most unhappy looking people I’ve ever seen in my life are married women between the ages of 25-32. It’s like someone gave them horns and a spiky tail as a wedding gift. These women have typically stopped participating in the following list of female social norms: wearing make up, smiling, having manners, smelling good, and being fun at all. I can understand that once one is married one can “let go” and “do what you want”, but this is ridiculous. I know one such post-marital Medusa(or PMM for short) that works with me occasionally in the cafeteria. No such single person funeral procession has ever been seen but by this woman’s forlorn frown and uncivilized manner, when she looks at me my friends, pure evil. Just yesterday when cleaning the cafeteria at 7:00am, tunes blasting to encourage my eyes to stay open, this PMM barges in late to work, walks straight to the stereo and turns it off. This may seem of no consequence to you who do not clean floors for a living, but a janitor without a jig is like Paris without love. Under normal circumstances I would say something but for fear of this PMM’s snake-like paralyzing look nothing was said. I thought married people were supposed to be happy, but I suppose that happiness is directed only to one person leaving all others out. Thus, the PMM’s spouse is diluted to thinking that she is nice to everyone while little does he know that she is in fact the present day incarnation of Medusa herself. Maybe I should call up some spiritual Bible school people to help me cast this demon of post-marital Medusa while she’s not looking.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

pistol and ball

There are no happy seasonal events (save for that debauched tradition of Valentines Day, which is no tradition at all other than to fatten your loved ones up so you can convince them to go on a diet with you later...a cunning scheme ladies), there is constant grayness, dankness, boredom, and a thick sense of molasses in the air. Indeed, the cursed molasses of the doldrums is nigh and what action have we but to run for the coffee shops...only to arrive with soggy shoes. In the last month I have seen the sun twice, each time a momentous occasion; children danced in the streets, drivers complained because they had misplaced their sun-glasses, and I went out and read Moby Dick in that hallowed sunlight—its wisdom echoed to my soul. May this be an encouragement to you my Northwestern countrymen and Lower Mainland friends.
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially when my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it time to get to the sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for a pistol and ball."
And so I head for the sea tomorrow, be it rain or blazing rain, I hope a trip to the sea will awaken my soul and dry out my spirits.
Kyrie eleison