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right now I’ve got a pot on the stove with a fan by it to blow the steam around the room. I also went and bought a humidifier and put it in the living room. now when I inhale, it’s pleasant and not dry and scratchy and trying to kill my innards with a lack of moisture. Thankfully, the humidifier I bought is super quiet so we can move it into the bedroom and I won’t wake up with my nose and throat feeling like I was breathing sandpaper all night.

also, hopefully it’ll kick the shit out of the static in here. Every time I get off the damn couch I get shocked.

so Brown Dog has been having a bit of an issue with the floor in the house. it’s laminate. his nails were getting long. it freaked him out and he whined a lot and either sat on the rug in the living room or the mat by the door. we bought him socks, which made him mopey but at least he’d walk around more. I’ve taken him him to get his nails trimmed twice, today being the second. I was going to go to the place in Sylvan, cause the last time I phoned the lady said they were open from 10-1 on saturdays. except they aren’t. not today at least. so I had to drive into Red Deer where Bernard got to show off to many people how far he can get his tail between his legs. FYI, far enough to make him look like he has two dicks.

then, looking at my watch and seeing it was well passed the noon rush, I figured I’d go grab a humidifier and hit up Chapters.

except I forgot it’s the weekend and the noon rush means fuck all on a Saturday. If anything, it means everyone thinks, “shit, it’s after 1, NO ONE will be out now!” and then it all turns into a giant cluster.

lots of people are bad at parking lots in general, but the closer you get to christmas, the more retarded people seem to get about them. you know, someone who would maybe just swear under their breath at losing a spot in June is now full on yelling I WILL FUCKING THROAT PUNCH YOU LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING DONKEY SHIT!. most of the time their windows are up, so you can’t really hear them, but you can watch in amazement at the number of shades of red they turn as they scream and wave their hands as if it solves their anger management issues.

and while we’re on the subject, yes, I realize that people of both genders are guilty of being totals clowns in parking lots, but let’s face it; ladies, come on. You are by far the more common individuals when it comes to parking spot donkey rage. all because now you have to walk, what, another fifty feet?

say it with me now: it’s a parking spot, not your first born child.

you could probably write a pretty interesting thesis on behaviours in parking lots. I think one of the more interesting aspects of said potential piece would be the part that focuses on other drivers who feel obliged to take, what they think, is the moral high ground for another driver who has been the victim of an unfortunate YOINK. a YOINK, of course, being the noise the driver who steals the spot makes. you’ll hear the moral high grounders as you walk through the parking lot because they roll their window down to tell the YOINKer, “you know, that woman waited five minutes there with her signal on for that spot!”

I’m surprised this doesn’t end up in tragedy for the moral high grounders more often, I can see that setting a lot of people off. also, why do you feel the need to defend someone who has decided that a good use of their time is sitting in a parking lot for five minutes, waiting for one spot as close to the door as they can get, while they block all the cars behind them from going forward or backwards? this doesn’t seem like a good use of anyone’s time. There are a lot of constructive things you could do in five minutes that doesn’t involve waiting in a parking lot, getting madder and madder that the lady who got into the car in the spot you want is just sitting there not doing anything while it’s running and she obviously is going to leave any second now.

seriously. I think when people take their drivers test, there needs to be a high stress parking lot module, and if you yell, scream, wave wildly, block traffic or berate people, you don’t get to have a license. or at least, you only get to drive to places that have the biggest parking lots and you’re only allowed to park at the very back end. ever. for all time. I feel that would contribute a lot to the merriness of the holiday season more than bumrushing the spot right by the door in you Dodge Power Wagon that you can’t fit straight into any spot.

on that note, I should have taken a picture of the truck that parked next to me. Jacked up F-350 with three window decals: two of which said “BALLS DEEP!” and one in the middle that said “I wish it were bigger!”

I mean, everyone says that douche trucks are compensating, but here I think we have an open admission. I didn’t have any scrap paper with me, or a pen that wasn’t frozen for that matter, other wise I probably would have left a note saying “Tiny dick… gotcha…” with an arrow pointing to the back window.

and none of the people who drive those trucks know how to park them perpendicular to those little yellow lines that make sure there’s parking a plenty for everyone. ok, none is a stretch. 9 out of 10. especially if it’s a dually. here’s what I’ve noticed about large truck drivers here; guys will park them at the back of the lot, usually crooked because they figure there’s more space. ladies will try and cram them in the closest to the store as they can. even if it means they’re still at an angle with the box sticking three feet out into the lane. but that’s ok, they only have to walked twenty feet now.

I am, of course, generalizing. but, even generalizations have some root in truth.

true story.

I haven’t wrapped any presents yet. it’s also not too late for anyone to decide that a PS3 is also a blu-ray player and hey, that’s just a good combo right there!