It can be comforting to know that no matter how bad my day was, Jon Arbuckle’s was worse:

In other news, I got a couple of new t-shirts tonight for under 20$:

The Cheshire Cat’s head lights up as does Animal’s tongue. Both are motion activated.

Halloween has been in full swing in stores for at least a week now, and it is not yet October. I wonder if they’ll even bother to wait until November to start shoving Christmas stuff into the aisles.

In the mail today there was a package from Daniel addressed to B. Tweezil and me. It’s contents were thoughtfully isolated from one another in Ziploc bags. When I opened the Beet Weasel’s bag for him he began to make a sound that explains the common belief that cats were/are in league with the Devil. That bag contained two catnip treats (one shaped like a cigar, one shaped like a banana) and a tin of the “good stuff” itself. They claim catnip is non-habit forming, but that yowling suggests otherwise. He is currently rolling about and licking the cigar:

As for the contents meant for me: truffles and chocolate bars from Eclipse Chocolat. I just had one of the truffles and there are no words. I think my tongue just had an orgasm. I can’t wait to try the bars either. There are three of them, and I can’t rank them in order of what sounds the most appealing because they all sound amazing:

• Blackberry Sage — “Sage infused dark chocolate flecked with desiccated blackberry bits.” Sweet mother of god that sounds good.

• Kyoto Green Tea — “Matcha green tea infused white chocolate, flecked with ginger and toasted rice.” I’m not a huge white chocolate fan, but that sounds amazing.

• Orange Peel Anise — “Orange peel infused dark chocolate spiced with star anise.” I may never enjoy a Terry’s chocolate orange again, but I do not care.

I intend to switch hosting services in the near future. As a result, this site may be down for some short period of time, though I will try to avoid it. Fear not; I shall return.

I went to see Ghost Town last night. It was refreshingly funny for a romantic comedy, but I suppose that isn’t saying much. I guess what I am trying to say is that it was more comedy, than romantic comedy. Still the weakest aspects of the story did indeed revolve around the unlikely, burgeoning relationship. I’m not sure that such a ludicrous premise could have been pulled off by anyone besides Ricky Gervais.

I snuck the leftovers of my dessert into the theater with me. A coffee had to be purchased to obtain a spoon; but I now think that smuggling it into a movie theater is the only way to eat dark chocolate gelato. It was the height of decadence.

Today as I was headed into a post office, I found a playing card in the gutter. I posted an ad in the Lost & Found section on Craigslist. I figure someone who can supply the correct rank and suit is likely to be the owner.

Reading the decidedly mixed reviews on Amazon for Lee Israel’s memoir documenting her time as a forger, I realized two things: first, I really wanted to read the book; and second, I didn’t want to buy it as it would be a way of allowing her to further profit from her crimes. When the local library did not have it available, I requested it as an inter-library loan. I picked it up today, but it would be appear that the library opted instead to purchase a copy of the book. I’m not sure how I feel about that, as I have now contributed to a purchase being made though perhaps it will prevent other purchases in the future.

Speaking of Amazon, I was confused to see a poll showing purchases of a Batman mask versus a Joker mask. Apparently there are people in the world willing to spend $19.99 on a latex mask when a more “authentic”, comfortable costume would be achieved with a few dollars worth of grease paint, no skill required. Capitalism is so grand, I want to buy a monocle …

… and one of these plush mounted cow heads for my wall.

Addendum:

I got an e-mail from Craigslist telling me that my ad was “flagged & removed”. After double checking that I had indeed submitted it in the correct category, I’ve posted a query to a thread about such removals in an attempt to ascertain why. I am annoyed.

…

In the past ten minutes or so several replies have been made, the only real “advice” was that I didn’t include enough detail like rank and suit, though I specifically said in the listing that the owner could claim it by telling me what the rank and suit were. Someone else told me the listing was probably removed because it looked like a joke. A third person demanded to know if I was for real and over the age of 18 and then proceeded to tell me that the only thing lost was my common sense. My reply was that if someone found my common sense lying in a gutter, I would hope they’d post a listing for it.

The Baron is dead. Or, perhaps more accurately, he was dead when I bought him since I never saw an actual sign of life from him. There are numerous articles on the web about how to tell when a snail of that variety has shuffled/crept/crawled/slid very slowly off this mortal coil, so I assume this is a common problem. Last week when I determined that the Baron was not merely pining, I did an emergency water change lest Trigger be left in tainted water.

I got a refund on the snail, but I was vacillating on whether or not to replace him. I finally fell on the side of it being too risky to have a creature that could expire and begin contaminating the water before it was at all noticeable. Tonight I installed a filter, as there will not in the foreseeable future be a creature shuffling/creeping/crawling/sliding around consuming detritus. As for Trigger, he isn’t sure what to think of the filter and keeps swimming about it as if to determine the nature of this new aquarium feature. Daniel does not believe that Trigger will ever formulate a hypothesis on the matter:

My least favorite drive home is the one on Sunday mornings. It may even be a bit faster than the others due to a lack of traffic, but it seems longer. For one thing all the radio stations I might normally listen to are infomercials or intolerable talk radio prior to 0700 hrs. Another thing is that if the church-goers have not vacated their spaces yet, it is very difficult to find a parking space. Finally, it probably goes without saying that since Sunday night is my “Friday”, I am usually very tired from the week, but still facing one more shift — often a twelve-hour one. All of these things applied today.

And then there was the conversation I had with a co-worker just before I left. A couple of months back the woman responsible for our payroll complained about the number of missed clock-ins and -outs. She was tired of sorting through everyone’s records every week and finding overtime cards submitted without corresponding time stamps within our computerized time-clock system. It was consuming a lot of extra time each week, and I understand her frustration. It was widespread.

A memo was written. A flurry of nasty letters went out to each and every person who failed to clock in or out. The harsh letters, however, were accompanied with a kinder word or two about how this was not a major infraction and the letters were a formality and not to worry about any sort of actual punishment. But it is easy, what with the nature of the business and all, to forget such a thing when one is in a rush or distracted or both and some of those who received a letter have now had a second infraction. Gone are the kind words and in their place are admonishments that this is their last warning and dire threats of … something … should it happen again.

I’ve seen the print-outs that payroll has to work with and, unlike almost every other official sort of paperwork, they are extraordinarily easy to read. I wouldn’t want to have to comb over each and every one of them week in and week out, but it is really quite simple to see if there was an error. Further, it isn’t as if we can leave if our relief doesn’t arrive so there is never a question about whether a particular party was on the premises or not. If Person A clocked out then Person B must have clocked in and vice versa. And I’m still not sure I entirely trust the time-clock itself. It has glitches. (For example, an inability to show what time I clocked in if I’ve worked over twelve-hours. The machine’s inability to differentiate between AM and PM or run on 24-hour time does not exactly instill confidence in me. Before that didn’t matter too much, as my presence was always thoroughly documented in other ways. Now it matters a great deal to me.)

I have an inside joke with myself. I compare my work to Wonderland and the people I deal with in that capacity to the characters therein. It is not an analogy that doesn’t always translate very well, beyond an urgency to be punctual.

So here I am, working under an administration who doesn’t give a hoot if people are routinely late or fail to show up entirely. This same administration (through deed, if not word) encourages a policy of sloppy work and general laziness. That which would be an ‘Off with their head!’ kind of offense in my book, passes without comment from those who have the authority to wield the axe; but heaven forbid a person, who is both punctual and reliable, forget to document said punctuality on their way in or out the door!

My life amounts to maneuvering by and for mad people in a world where the rules and their punishments don’t make sense. Part of me is enraged by this lunacy. Another part of me finds it hard to believe that I landed in the midst of such absurdity. And the part of me that is writing this is just a lowly mock turtle, telling you a sad, strange tale.

Where’s Waldo? + the Bourne Ultimatum = the Waldo Ultimatum.

Last week, I finished reading the Perfect Scent by Chandler Burr. It is an in depth look into the modern perfume industry by way of the development process for two scents, one being created in the U.S. and one in France. I would highly recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in how it is that “hit” perfumes come into existence. As a devotee of BPAL, I find the idea of celebrity perfumes and the desire to smell like someone (or everyone) else a little odd.

On page 220 of the book the author includes a quote from poet René Char, “Ce qui vient au monde pour ne rein troubler, ne mérite ni égard ni patience.” Burr translates it as follows, “What comes into the world to disturb nothing merits neither attention nor patience.” I suppose Monsieur Char would approve of my cat.

I set up my old aquarium yesterday. Tonight I went to Petsmart to find some inhabitants. I now have a male Betta named “Trigger Fish” and an Apple snail named “Baron Barracuda”. The Baron has yet to come out of his shell, literally or figuratively, but I did take some pictures of Trigger. He’s pretty active right now, so I will try to get a clearer photo when he’s a bit more calm.