The 30 Day Blogger Song Challenge

This is supposed to be for Facebook, but fuck Facebook*. It's been going around Facebook and I haven't shoved my taste in music down people's throats in a while, so why not.

Song Challenge #1: Your favorite song

What the fuck, it's the first one and it's already bullshit. I don't have one. There's too many to choose from. I'll post one of my favorite songs, though.



What, was that too obvious?

*yes, fuck Facebook, despite the fact that I joined back on it a week ago. No, I didn't miss it; it's the only way I can get in touch with certain people.

Mystery frames

So for the last 6 weeks or so, we've had this giant Chanel poster hanging out in the front of our store. Nothing special. It's not the first giant Chanel poster we've had hanging there and it sure as hell won't be the last. And as far as posters for optical collections go, it's really formulaic; it's a head shot of a pretty girl wearing frames in black and white.
And yet, for some reason, I've never seen such a high level of demand for any pair of frames in the entire time I've worked in this store. It's insane, the number of women that have walked into the store, asking "Can I see those frames that she's wearing?". I just don't get it. The frames are nice, but it's not exactly reinventing the wheel. No other pair of frames has garnered so much attention and desire from passerby. Today alone, we took down the names and phone numbers of 6 different women who demanded we call them ASAP the minute we got the frames in. Six isn't a big number, but I'm not counting all the people that asked about it without leaving a name/number.
And the kicker? We don't have the frames. We ordered them, but the distributor (who happen to be the largest corporation in the optical industry) doesn't even have the frames on hand. I've yet to figure out how they could ship us a big ass poster advertising frames that they don't even have.

So here it is. If anyone can provide some insight as to what makes these frames so amazing, let me know.

The Anatomy of Melancholy

I went to see Godspeed You! Black Emperor with Owen last night. Let's just cut to the chase: they were fuckin' good. Even Seth Rogen would change his mind about them. I'll admit I was apprehensive at first; I figured I'd stand there for 3 hours and listen to a total of 4 songs while they dinked around on stage. I'm happy to report there was no dinking around and the whole thing was pretty fuckin' intense from beginning to end*. I caught myself with my mouth agape a few times. It was worth every cent of Owen's money, har har.
I'm not really sure what else to say; for the most part, I'm still kind of speechless.

Other highlights from last night:
-French Canadian dude trying to talk to us while we were waiting in line. I hate it when all people can talk about is music. Well, I hate it when all people can talk about is any one thing. He gave up on talking to us and began talking to the couple behind him, starting off his convo the exact same way he did with us. It almost sounded rehearsed.
-the people stamped my wrist with a stamp that reads "WEINER".
-"$20 for a poster?!?! ...okay, I'll take one"
-the Sadies were surprisingly good, even though I'm usually very dismissive of opening bands and I really don't like country-rock bands. They also did this sort of *ahem* guitar reach-around thing that's a lot more awesome than it sounds.

-despite having been at Lee's Palace numerous times before, I told Owen "Lee's Palace looks a lot bigger in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World".
-instead of standing throughout the whole show, which I dreaded, we managed to snag seats on the wooden benches. Have you ever sat on those things for more than 15 minutes? It fucking hurts your legs. After 15 minutes, you get pins and needles. I know I'm not the only one that was in pain, because I saw both Owen and the girl next to him frequently bring their legs up and hug their knees against them. So sit or stand, you lose either way.
-asking the cab driver if he could get me home on a flat rate of $22 (it's all the cash I had on me). He grudgingly agreed, only for me to realize you could pay by debit, which I didn't bother telling him until we got to my destination. Then he grumbled about having to start up the debit machine, which takes 2 minutes. Yeah, I'm a dick.


*by end, I mean the time I left. I'll admit I didn't stay for the whole set because it was already late and I had to get home.

I'm back, y'all, and I'm back, y'all and I'm backity back...

The last real post I made was on May 6, 2010. I think I'm finally ready to come back. Because there was so much demand.

Memorable Quotes:
"You have rapist handwriting"
-Chris, my coworker.

I argued that I only have molester handwriting.

MMX

I really like this blog and maybe one day I'll come back, but for now, I'm here.

Cut and paste

The conversation during dinner was pretty lulz-worthy. There were several lulz crammed into one conversation. It was priceless. How it more or less went, almost verbatim:

Mom: Owen looks much better with his hair cut. He looks less Filipino and more Chinese.
Me: Oh that's good, because we make fun of him a lot for looking Filipino. Or Mexican. Or Native American.
Mom: Oh yeah. That too! Is he still dating that girl?
Me: May?
Mom: Yeah, the one that was supposed to pick up that stuff from you.
Dad: No, they broke up ages ago (I was surprised he actually remembered this. I couldn't even remember ever telling him)
Me: Oh, that reminds me. Christine got engaged.
Mom: To who?
Me: You don't know him.
Mom: Who's the other person getting married again?
Me: Lenny.
Mom: Oh right. And when is my son going to bring home a girl?
Me: When I find one.
Mom: When you find one? When do you ever even go look for one?
Me: You didn't go out and look for Dad. You were introduced to him from his sister.
Mom: No, it was my sister that introduced us. And when I met him, I had to put in a ton of effort to woo him! If I hadn't chased after him, he'd still be dating white girls!
Me: (Realizing that she missed my point completely, I just decided to start trolling) Oh, by the way, I told all my friends about you, Dad. About how you dated white girls. They think you're awesome.
Dad: (Smiling) I had two white girlfriends!
Mom: Yeah, but they were ugly.
Dad: Were not! One of them was French Canadian!
Mom: She was fat.
Dad: Fat my ass! She was so pretty.
Mom: She was homely.
Dad: I have pictures of her still!
Me: (Whispering to my dad) Show me later.

So there you have it. Both my dad and I both had/have a crush on French Canadian girls. Guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.