Okay, so sure, I’ve been like double my already high usual levels of both “self-hatred” and “hating my job” because this month sucks more than typical at work. I’ve beat myself up for not getting a closer look at a cat and I’ve beat myself up for locking myself out of my apartment (see my last two posts) and that’s the just stuff I hate myself for that I remembered to post about. At least the lockout thing I can find funny because it was a way of shaking up dull routine, but it still took several hours of my time. I’ve also been sleeping fitfully at best and getting less reading done at work. So anyway, I’m not spending as much time doing things I’d like to do is what I am trying to use this paragraph to say.

So one day this week I woke up late and watched the Daily Show and Colbert as I am wont to do and then turned on my music and prepared to do whatever it is I do with my days, but then I realized the time and that I needed to get ready for work sharpish. I muttered to myself “No one told me when to run, I missed the starting gun” and people with good taste will recognize that is a line from “Time” by Pink Floyd, an awesome song about the passage of time bringing us all closer to death.

Within ten seconds of my quoting this, the clamorous opening to the song begins on my computer. It was on random, so there was no way I am aware of that I could have subconsciously picked up that it was next. It was a pretty sweet coincidence, but I didn’t think so much of it that I would have bothered to post about it here.

Tonight, at work, during a rather dull moment I got the assistants to watch things while I went into the office to get a head start on the paperwork I had to do at the end of the night. In the office I had a radio playing tuned to a local station. As soon as I sat down I realized Time was playing, which reminded me of the previous occurrence. It was a pretty easy night at work so there were literally a dozen or more times when the operation was smooth enough that I could have gone off to do that and I chose the one time that Time was playing. Pretty neat.

So anyway, ruling out the possibility that I have just developed some sort of unconscious prescience relating only to that one song, I am left with the option that the Song is Following Me. If the universe is using the song in an attempt to cheer me up, I thank it, but couldn’t it maybe choose a song that is not about Exactly What Is Depressing Me? If the universe is trying to mock me… okay then yeah, good choice.

For posterity’s sake I will point out that at the actual end of the night when I was finishing the paperwork they played Wish You Were Here, another Pink Floyd song which, while melancholy, does not cut so deep into specifics with me. And I love that one too. Clearly Q104 is the station to go for for Pink Floyd, I guess. Not that they don’t play plenty of crap in between.

Anyway, the time is gone, the post is over… thought I’d something more to say…

As I left the elevator, two young men were getting on. As I proceeded across the lobby I heard one of them say something along the lines of “Did you see that? That guy was packing!” and I don’t know what that was about.

• “Packing heat?” I was unarmed. Perhaps it was just one of those trenchcoat stereotype things?
• “Packing wood?” I had no erection. Perhaps my pants bunched up to make it look like I did?
• “Packing a lunch?” I didn’t have any food. Perhaps the guy smelled food and assume I was making lunch for myself?
• “Packing on the pounds?” No more so than usual. Perhaps that guy saw me a lot when I was really thin and has not seen me since?
• “Packing more than you bargained for?” I don’t think I am. Perhaps I am?
• “Packing for a trip?” I had no luggage. Perhaps the fact I was walking was equated with travelling in that dude’s head and he assumed I was preparing to leave?
• “Packing fudge?” I was not engaging in homosexual intercourse. Perhaps sometimes when I get off elevators I look like I’m doing gay sex?
• “Packing the buck?” The word is supposed to be passing. Perhaps that guy doesn’t know idioms well?
• “Packing peanuts?” I am not made from styrofoam. Perhaps I look like I would keep valuables safe during shipping?
• “Packing smashers?” I don’t think that means anything. Perhaps that means something?

So anyway, I don’t know what’s up, but I might be packing. Just… keep that in mind.

Geez. I’ve neglected to put anything here for too long. Let’s just see…

I saw some graffiti the other day that read “Chicken Over Bitches” and gave no other details on what that might be. I see a handful of possibilities. There’s the possibility that it could be about a guy who likes his to eat chicken more than he likes to be in the company of women. There’s also the fact that another word for “chicken” is another word for “penis” so it could be kind of a “Homies Over Hoes”-style statement in favor of homosexuality. It would also be nice to think that maybe someone would be kind enough to actually not be using bitches to refer to women. It could be about actual dogs. That means it could be a guy who advocates eating chicken instead of eating dog. I’d get behind that. Also, it could be using the word “over” in terms of literal position and thus maybe the chickens are flying over the dogs, or even riding them like horses or something. That’d be cool. I guess “chicken” could also be people who are scared of stuff. Yeah…

“Do the Homie! Do the Homie!”

Also, a few days back, Saturday morning I guess I left work on foot and got to walk through the wilderness between the Middle Of Nowhere that I am employed within and the city of Halifax. I got to see a rabbit walking around and a duck with three babies swimming behind it.

And just to continue commenting on what I’ve seen, I shall look out the window and tell you of whatever is out there… Wow. Interestingly enough two vehicles in the morning traffic seem to have had a minor accident. They appear to be doing well enough. Looking at the damage and such. That means I get to call them suckers. Excellent. Suckers.

I just saw this billboard on the trip home that was advertising Diamond Shreddies. Now, as I recall Shreddies were square, so making them diamond shaped would really just be holding them differently. So unless this is cereal with actual diamond in it, I’m confused.

Also, I don’t like billboards all that much. Actually not really at all. I find them ugly.

A few days ago I was in line at the Superstore and the man BEHIND me in line apologized to me for taking so long. I don’t actually know what that was about. I am hoping he did it just to confuse me.

Yesterday, the Superstore was super-packed with customers and I wanted to buy some nail clippers. The store was closing in like five minutes and the lines were quite long so I grabbed the first nail clippers I saw even though they were quite clearly labeled as being “For Her” even though I see no discernible difference between them and any other nail clippers I’ve ever owned. But deep down, I feel now that any time I am cutting my fingernails, I am doing something girly. Fortunately, I’m 100% okay with that.