I have been alerted by an astute reader that my previous post, where I claim to be the first google result for The Librarian Look, is incorrect. Apparently I am now number five or possibly six, depending on how you search.
However, as my rule is never to alter an already-posted entry, I must sit corrected.
Oh the shame.
Th’Cheeseblog is the first result if you goooooogle for The Librarian Look.
(I can recommend a more comprehensive site, one dedicated to librarians, called “Lipstick Librarian.” She really is a librarian and even sells t-shirts.)
And I present to you the second result:
Dick and Jane meet Cthulhu, which is one of several pages at a site called Roleplaying Laughs. If you like “Dick and Jane” you’ll love Why Magic the Gathering is better than Sex. (“8. You can Clone a Shivan Dragon but try that with your partner.”)
On the main page, the author thanks his/her sister for making the site look so good and writes, “I have added a section for funny stories from your roleplaying games so if you have a story you’d like to share then email me. Please only stories that will be funny to everyone. Nothing that contains private humour that only you understand, and no racist or sexist stories.”
Isn’t “private humour that only you understand” sort of the whole point of roleplaying? How private would it have to be that other weird-ass role players wouldn’t even get it? Would you even have internet access if you were that private? Wouldn’t you be living in a seal cave or with the the wild midget monkeys of Belize?
It is only the 5th official day of Fall and already I feel like I might seriously wound the next person I see wearing a poncho – unless that person is 80 years old and/or has Poncho Cred.
This woman says, “You think you don’t like ponchos? Think again,” which, along with the vaguely threatening tone, seems to indicate that there is something new about the Ponchos of 2004, something I have never seen, something that will compel me to cut a hole in a blanket and put it over my head and walk around with a shit-eating grin on my face because I’m In Style! Maybe this year’s ponchos will keep me company, not just warm, or perhaps they will protect me from evil, or make me invisible to the perfume spritzers at the Bay.
In fact there is nothing new about the Ponchos of 2004. I know because in the past two days I have seen something like 25 identical ponchos on 25 different women. The Ponchos of 2004 are a lot like the Ponchos of 1974 (? – I was an infant that year) except with less credibility. But then, anything that is pulled out of the ass of a TV personality, rinsed off with a hose by a celebrity and hung out to dry on the shoulders of obedient women North-America-Wide automatically pisses me off. It’s as though the clothing manufacturers of the world are afraid that if they didn’t tell us to get out there and Buy a Must Have Item every season, we would wear the same pair of pants and perfect black t-shirt until physically unable to do so.
And so what if we did? When I find the perfect pants and black t-shirt, I will wear them every day and sleep with them under my pillow.
Also, enough with the pink shoes.
Today’s Viewed Apartment ended up being two apartments. We took a quick trip down to PonchoCentral to see a 2 br suite in a heritage building. Unfortunately the three 20 year old boys who live there were in the suite, getting over their hangovers and so was all their stuff, so we didn’t get a look at the actual apartment. One of them had a really big tv, though. And another had a storm trooper helmet.
We assumed, then, that based on the lack of visible wall and floor, the apartment would not be big enough for us, our catt and our many, many personal effects.
Then we found a slip of paper on a pole that said “Best location! Bute and Haro!” and since we were standing on the corner of those streets, gave the number a call. Respecting the 6th Holy Rule of HouseHunting, the suite for rent was not in the three attractive buildings on specified corner but in the ugliest building on the block. The lobby of the building was 45 degrees celsius. The elevator smelled like smoke and the hallway smelled like pee. S. Aardvark said catt pee but I’m certain it was human pee. It smelled an awful lot like the back alleys in Gastown, which, though they are crazy places, are not home to a lot of catts. Anyway, the apartment was as big as my armpit, though, thankfully, not as hairy, so it was a quick visit.
Oh! Heard a new song on the radio today. Shania Twain through a styrofoam cup, I think, in a duet with Mark McGrath, from Sugar Ray. I think they must have smoked big bowls of crack and then locked themselves in a room for an hour or two to record it. The song is about how Shania wants Mark to come over for a party and he’s all “what should I wear?” and she’s all “just wear your socks! It’s a party for two!” and then some unspecified mechanical people say “whoo hooo!” It was like a video game.
She has also recorded a “country” version with some country guy. I wonder if they say “yahoo” instead of “whoo hooo” in the country version and I can’t wait to find out.
We have now looked at two (2) apartments for rent. The funny story from the weekend viewing was the lack of walls in the apartment for view. See, the actual suite for rent was locked up tight. So the landlord showed us the one across the hall, which is an identical layout but is being renovated so there was a fair bit of squinting and imagining where the walls/stove/toilet/closet might be. Also, that place sang to me of cockroaches.
But today’s apartment was abso-gorgeous. 1,000 square feet. Bigger than hockey. It had no walls either, just windows, everywhere windows. You could see Japan, Whistler, Mt. Baker, back alleys and the CBC building. I could have watched the picket lines snake around my place of work from the bedroom. I could have Called In my Solidarity.
Also, there was laundry in the suite and a pool in the building.
As the first prospective tenants to view the suite, we were heady with priority. It is good to be first. On the recommendation of the man showing us the suite, we filled in an application form immediately and faxed it to the manager, who called shortly thereafter to ask some questions.
To be fair, the ad said no pets.
However, when we showed up to view the place, we had to stop and pet the dachshund that lives there. So.
So when the man said Any pets? I said yes. I said, We have a catt.
A catt? (as though it were a marauding iguana. as though half the population of the world does not see the value in a furry beastie to keep its toes warm. the collective toes of the world, yes.)
Yes.
Oh. A catt. (very disappointed. we showed such promise. a woman who works for the government and a man who is into computers. sigh.)
Yes.
Well. You might have to pay a pet deposit.
A what, now? (because I thought he was making it up. doesn’t it sound made up? like Idiot Tax? I made that up but you don’t see me trying to actually CHARGE anyone. anymore)
Pet deposit. Would that be okay?
How much is it? ($50? maybe?)
Half the month’s rent…(for those of you who are curious, this particular 2 br apt at the gateway to scenic Chinatown is going to set somebody back $1380.)
I’m sorry?
Half the month’s rent…($690)
Plus the damage deposit?($690)
Right…($1380)
I wish I had thought to say something witty. But having had a couple of hours to think it over, I’m convinced there is no witty response to a request for a pet deposit.
So I said, with as much indignation as was musterable,
I don’t think so.
Oh…you don’t want to pay the pet deposit (scratching pen noise, as he is writing this down)
No, that’s too much money…he’s only a catt (not a rottweiler, toddler, fish tank full of water, junkie, etc.)
Meanwhile, the catt was staring at me because a) it was SupperTime and b) he doesn’t want to move and c) sister, you are a Damn Fool if you believe that a man who charges you a pet deposit is not going to try to keep all your money at the end of this adventure. I agreed. I petted the catt and told him he could continue to make his deposits in the litterbox for the time being.
We will keep looking.
The Monterey Aquarium obviously is not taking into account the very real threat of captivity-held great white sharks (see: Jaws 3D – The next Dimension is Terror! for proof of this) who go crazy and bust through the glass walls and kill all the tourists.
C’mon! Sure it’s a cute, cuddly 4-foot baby great white shark now. But someday, it will want revenge on its mama’s death by crazed fisherman and it will be eating the seal exhibit and the stingray display in one big gulp and then it will come for the photo-op-ing politicians. The only way this can be good is if the politician is, say, GW. Let’s start calling him “chum,” just in case.
