Past Blast Part 2

OK bloggies, I'm back for round 2. Be sure to read the blog before this one to know what's going on (basically I've gone back to the 90s with hopes of debunking once awesome anime shows). Yesterday I had my way with Sailor Moon, and now it's time to move on to a whole other league. That's right. You haven't heard nothin' yet.

Now, admittedly, I could go off on every shitty cartoon concept ever created in the last decade -- Samurai Pizza Cats, Shark Attacks, Captain Planet -- but honestly, it's not worth my time. Why? Because, well, no one cares about most of them. [And notice that I didn't bring up Care Bears. Any kid who watched Care Bears has been made fun of enough. Just leave them alone.]

Think bigger -- I'm talking HISTORICAL. Listen closely. Twice every hundred years the Japanese unleash something that threatens North American homeland security. The first major attack of the 20th century happened on December 7th, 1941.

It was Pearl Harbor.

The second attack aired September 8th, 1998. It was much more subtle. It was much more evil. It was much more deadly.

It was Pokemon.

DO NOT LAUGH! Pokemon has destroyed many more souls than atomic bombs or nuclear warfare ever will. Don't believe me? Let me show you the truth.

Everyone was bloody obssessed with the show when it came out. Fair enough -- it boasted cool fights for boys and cutesy creatures for girls. Unlike Trailerpark Moon, the characters had dignity and the plot-line was decent...

Pokemon, however, was a virus. All of a sudden there were gameboy games. And action figures. And books, and movies, and stuffed animals. But you know what, none of that really mattered because of one key component: trading cards.

They BRAINWASHED us. "Gotta catch 'em all," the voices whispered. "Buy more packs, steal the shineys-- do whatever it goddamn takes!"

Gulp. And did we ever.

I lost my Pokevirginity to a cute girl at church. One Sunday School morning she slipped an Abra in my palm like it was some sacred holy communion wafer -- and in God The Father's holy household, of all places! Can anyone say 'False Idol'? But I didn't care; hell, it was free! A gift! Satan's own starterpack.

But that was just the beginning. This stuff was meth on school playgrounds. I can still see the shady transactions underneath the steel slides. Twitchy kids, scratching at imaginary itches while they pawn their Pikachus and get high off holographic pokeporn. There were dealers and burnouts, beggars and bitches. Status was defined by HP, and "he's huge" referred to deck size.

Truly terrifying times.

Looking back on the 90s, I can honestly say that I'm surprised any kid could survive through that TV-show-shit. It was madness, and for what? Our card collections are worthless today. Of course, maybe they'll hold high values waaaaay down the road, but I am not gonna sit around scratching my pokeballs waiting for that to happen.

Past Blast Part 1

I sincerely apologize for this blog becoming a bad one night stand lately. I think it happens with all blogs -- the writer riles you up at the start, you both have a little fun, maybe a LOT of fun, and then suddenly the bastard jets off without warning. Yep, the SOB just jumps out the window right when you're getting used to them, damnit.

Well, good news: Susan Blip's too fat to fit through the window. This blog is here to stay, no matter how inconsistant or flakey or rude it comes off as. I'm not ready for big blog commitments, but just because we souldn't get attached doesn't mean we still can't have fun ;)

So let's cut this foreplay and get to the good stuff!

This is part one of a two-parter blog entry entitled "Past Blast". I'm going back in time to rediscover a particular fad from the 90s. A fad, you ask? Which one?

Pogs? Nope.

Hammerpants? Try again.

The Running Man? The Macarena? Carleton's dance from Fresh Prince? Pff, yeah right.

Still can't guess? Well buckle your blog-belts because... drum roll... shitty anime shows are making their comeback!

Let's kickstart this time-travel with two simple words:

Sailor. Moon.

Hands up -- who loved Sailor Moon? Come on guys, don't be ashamed. I admit my love 100%! Honestly, she was global porn for preteen boys. Popular but humble, strong but girly. And what a kickass theme song!

Fighting evil by moonlight,
Winning love by daylight,
Never running from a real fight,
She is the one named Sailor Moon.

But that was then, this is now. Through a startling revelation, I've come to realize that Sailor Moon was merely a horrible trap for children. Let me elaborate.

Girls, take a look at Miss Moon. Is she a good role model? Far from it! Oftentimes she can't even beat the enemy without relying on other people. And don't get me started on that transformation sequence. Listen carefully, Sailor Moon: closing your eyes and twirling around in colorful patterns only to wake-up in different clothes does not mean you're a superhero, alright? It means you've been roofied. Like three times per episode.

And boys? Don't fall for this TV trash. A relationship with Sailor Moon will not work. She's fighting evil by moonlight and winning love by daylight; between the two she can't even find time to book a much needed haircut -- what makes you think she'll have time for you? And don't give me that "hot skirt" excuse. "But, but, b-but..." you protest? But nothing. Do you really want a relationship with some skank in spandex whose pants are less than two inches long? Trust me, everyone is sneeking peeks at Sailor Poon. You can do better.

Stay tuned for more 'Past Blast' tomorrow! I would keep writing, but I have a final in less than two hours. Plus I'm still in pajamas.

...But wait! If I try spinning around with my eyes shut maybe I'll magically change clothes like Sailor Moon!

[insert long pause while Devon tries twirling in feminine patterns]

...

Nope. Definitely need crack for that.

Squirt

I have a medical problem. I'm man enough to admit it. It's sort of embarassing, though... especially in certain circumstances... but here it is. Plain and simple.

I squirt.

Well, my mouth squirts. Like sometimes I'll open up to say something and, without warning, streams will just jet out. Actually, it kind of looks like Spiderman's webs (except that it's slobbergoo flowing from my under-tongue).

eeEEeeeEeeEEwww, you say?

eeEEeeeEeeEEww indeed.

I first discovered this mutant ability at the dentist's office six years ago. He said "open up" and it simply came spritzing out. It was funny; we laughed. But it didn't stop. His assistants kept trying to go in with their Dr. Seuss instruments, but my mouth wouldn't let them. It just kept squirting and squirting and squirting! And let me tell you, it is NOT hilarious to have the fifty-five year old hygenist tell you "you're quite the squirter". Yeesh.

I didn't think about it for a long time afterwards (I mean, how often do 'drool jets' come up in everyday convo?), that is, until I saw the first X-MEN movie. This quote got me thinking:

JEAN GREY: Ladies and gentlemen, we are now seeing the beginnings of another stage of human evolution. These mutations manifest at puberty, and are often triggered by periods of heightened emotional stress.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

I'm convinced!

But seriously, whether I had slobbergoo [starting to like that word] powers, or was just some weird kid, I didn't want anyone knowing. So I suppressed that talent.

Cut to last week: I was in my prof's office. We were going over an assignment when, from out of nowhere, I opened my mouth and squirted all over the papers.

The prof cocked an eyebrow. She straightened up, leaned forward, and whispered telepathically, "You have a gift!"

OK OK OK, so that last bit's a lie. But I did squirt her papers then try to wipe it up while she watched apathetically. Oh if only you could see that squinty look she gave me... pursed lips, raised eyebrows, semi-frown... it made me angry -- SO angry that I whipped open my mouth again and shot her right in the eyeball.

...ok so that's a lie too. But boy I wished I could.

Apparently this whole mouth squirting thing isn't that uncommon. It's called 'gleek'. But who knows, maybe I just gleek more than most people. Besides, if that's the weirdest thing I've got going on, I'll take it!
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So that's my story (2 blog posts in March -- I hit my target!). One more thing before I go, though. A warning, if you will:

If we ever meet in real life, please don't ask me to "squirt my slobbergoo". It's just awkward.

Post Patty's Day

Here's the thing... I haven't blogged for almost a month. I apologize, but please understand that I've been more busy than God was in the first week of creation (plus I don't even get my own sabbath). So deal with it.

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Here's a St. Patrick's Day poem I wrote yesterday. Usually I don't post material online, but I think this one has an important message that everyone should hear. Enjoy!

The Shamrock Resignation

On Saint P’s Day of March ’09,
All leprechauns worldwide resigned.
To sum it up, they’d had enough --
The year was bad and times were rough.

Stocks in gold hit bottom lows,
Then left and right their banks foreclosed.
On every channel news was bleak,
And spirits waned with every week.

So boarding up their woodland homes,
They waved goodbye to elves and gnomes;
They traded in their shoes for boots,
Their hats for caps and coats for suits.

Nevermore would any slide
Down rainbow ribbons in the sky,
Nor play their flutes or jig through mobs,
For all now needed steady jobs.

So off to interviews they went
(With no skills or experience)
And, big surprise, they failed at those,
Losing out to Average Joes.

For months and months things just got worse,
Like some 1930’s curse,
“But wait!” cried out the Irish midgets,
“That’s it! Let’s build up army widgets!

We’ll start a war, it fuels new jobs
To help out all the unskilled slobs.
Humans fight through history --
Let's fight off our misery!"

So down to work the small men went,
Sweating to the full extent.
They built an army, strong hate brewin’,
Then waged a war... upon the humans!

The humans laughed, was this a joke?
These tiny things who once were broke
Now thought they’d stand up face to face
To battle out the human race?

But war was war – begun at noon
And, sad enough, was done by two.
The leprechauns, all now destroyed,
Were taken down like action toys.

It's hard to see the times ahead --
Some succeed, some wind up dead.
It's sad, I know, but learn the lesson:
Don’t start wars to fight recessions.

Fairy Tale Ending

For those of you who don't know, I'm back. Voila, ta-da -- poof! Returned in one piece. Yup, survived the Toronto airport again (stroke off goal #5), which no doubt you were restlessly worrying about, so thanks. Much appreciated.

My last few days in Orlando were wonderful. Thursday was our shopping day, and let's just say my debit card was used and abused more than most prostitutes. Friday was Islands of Adventure where, excitingly enough, these were posted everywhere imaginable:

Alas, the Harry Potter themepark doesn't open for another whole year. *Bittersweet sigh*

I also went to a dinnershow called 'Arabian Nights' that revolved around stallions, unicorns and genies. These people were nuts -- they'd do flips off galloping steeds, race around in chariots at 60mph, and execute complex choreography on the backs of the animals. The best way I can describe it is 'So You Think You Can Dance' with horses :S

By the time Saturday rolled around, I didn't want to say farewell to Florida. Sometimes you're ready for trips to end and sometimes you're not, you know? This was one of those latter times.

But, as we all know, good things must come to an end. I was actually thinking about that on the way up my last rollercoaster ride on Friday. I remember climbing The Hulk higher and higher and higher, looking around and seeing the whole themepark stretched out below. The spectacular Simpson ride off to the right; Disney somewhere in the distance; and seagulls divebombing innocent onlookers throughout the streets. The view pretty much summed up my whole trip, and what a gorgeous view it was...oh, until four women in the row ahead of us stuck up their arms just as our cart sailed over the peak.

Goal #4? Check.

Goal #1

Today was Magic Kingdom day -- the one and only day I had to hunt down some Cinderella lovin'!

We arrived at the park bright and early (knew it was going to be busy), and hit all the big rides right away. This park is our specialty. Space & Splash Mountians, Pirates of the Caribbean, Haunted Mansion, etc. -- all done by noon. See, my family has Disney down to a science. We know exactly when and where to go at which times, and how to get there by any array of super secret twists and turns. This is hardcore Disneying, people. If you can't keep up, get the hell out of our way because we have trampled children in the process. Plain and simple: survival of the fittest.

Anyways, I swear I tried and tried all day to find that sweet Cinderella. I watched two castle performances and scanned Fantasy Land, but alas -- no princess to be found. Sure I saw other princesses, but none of them would do. Snow White? No way, that slut has seven dwarf orgies. Ariel? No thanks (she probably tastes fishy). Jasmine? Anorexic. Pocahontas? Not technically a princess. Nala? Not into beastiality.

Gah. Then, at the end of the day, I was walking along Mainstreet and found this:

Notice my pouting phantom face lurking behind Cinderella on the left.

There she was, in robot form, dancing with that prissy Prince Charming. I was enraged. Why did all the other princesses show up to greet their fans? Was she too good for us? Too egotistical?

I marched back up to the castle, enraged, and went straight for her lousy fountain.

Me giving Cunterella statue a big, fat finger.

So, disappointly, I did not accomplish goal #1. I apologize. I did my best.

I do feel slightly sorry for Cinderella, though. I know Prince Charming is cheating on her -- all the other princesses have rooms in his castle too. After all, girls, can you imagine some suave guy asking you back to his place, then taking you home to this:

Every girl's dream

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Seriously. Who wouldn't say yes?

Gobsmacked

Today was one helluva day. Wow. I think I may have even lost a little faith in humanity because of something I witnessed; I'm confused, flabbergasted, and shocked to the core.

Let me explain in detail.

Today was another day at Disney, this time at their Hollywood Studios park. This place is Wicked with a capital 'W'. Tower of Terror, Rockin' Rollercoaster, the American Idol experience -- it's got some pretty sweet stuff. To our delight, a new Toy Story attraction just opened up and, in a time slump, we thought we'd check it out. Due to our intricate plan of carefully calculated Fastpasses (those of you who have been to Disney know what I'm talking about), we were all out of 'quick line' tickets and had to use the normal lineup.

There was an estimated wait time of 80 min. Not good, not horrible either. So we followed a family of four inside.

Now this Toy Story ride is a maze of unorganized bullshit, let me tell you. You squish inside these tiny lineups, stand around without moving a step for ten minutes, and when you do move, you're zigging and zagging in the stupidest ways while never even catching a glimpse of the loading point. I was getting impatient, nevermind the nine dozen ADHD brats bouncing off the walls. Argh. Just another line at Disney.

...or was it?

One of the kids in the family ahead of us was getting antsy only twenty minutes into the building. This boy loved attention. He wailed and laughed and leaped up and down all over dad, teasing his sister and tormenting the other kids in line with irritating faces -- just a grade A jackass.

Then he gets more riled up. Apparently, from the way he was crossing his legs, he had to go pee. Perfect. Mom and dad were at the end of their wits with him, ready to throw in the towel and go home... but they'd already waited a half hour in line and there was no end in sight.

I knew what was coming next. Dad would take the boy, push past all the people in line to get to a bathroom, then shove himself back by budding rudely in front of everyone again. Turns out, though, dad didn't like that idea.

Instead, the two parents exchanged a few whispers while their son's screams crescendoed. Mom's last words were "sometimes it's just what parents gotta do".

Gotta do what? I sighed and backed up against the rail, ready to let them inch behind me for the door.

But dad didn't move back; he kneeled down. He kneeled down and took out an empty water bottle, pulled down the kid's fly and popped the bottle on like some tank to a hose.

.

GOBSMACKED

.

I flung myself against the wall, trying not to laugh or scream, or scream with laughter.

That's not even all. When the boy was done (and quite satisfied, mind you) dad carried the used bottle around until we passed the next garbage can 10 minutes later. JUST CARRIED IT LIKE IT WAS APPLE JUICE! No parent should ever "gotta do that"!

Please, everyone pray tonight. Christian or not, I don't care; throw your hands up and say "please, God, help humanity -- help the next genereation because this one's messed up".

.

* * *

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In happier, piss-free news, I scored another goal!!

After sending my family on an all-out witch hunt in Planet Hollywood, we tracked down exactly what I was looking for! Check out these:

I found her on the third floor staircase -- quite the beauty.

And after searching and searching and searching, then almost giving up, my mom erupted with excitement upon discovering...

Winifred's Spellbook!!! You cannot conceive how much I love this movie. Well...maybe James can.

Anyway, good night everyone. Farewell, February 17th, you weird day filled with karma, you. After all, was seeing a bratty ten year old pee in a bottle worth finding a spellbook bound in human skin?

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Hmm...

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Yup. Absolutely.

Rooty-Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity

First of all, congratulations IHOP. The 'Rooty-Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity' is without a doubt -- and I mean this in the least offensive way possible -- the gayest dish I've ever ordered. IHOP is pretty much your Average Joe breakfast joint... until, that is, you order the Rooty-Tooty and some six-stacker flapjack meal comes bouncing out of the kitchen by way of a well groomed, blue-eyed boy named Jayjay.

Yikes.

Needless to say, I set some boundaries with this Jayjay fellow (had to draw a line when he reached for the fork that fell in my lap), but actually enjoyed the meal. Enough said.

* * *

Yesterday was Universal Studios, today was Epcot (the huge golf ball in Disney World). Both were pretty sweet, I must say.

Highlights include:
- Simpsons Ride @ Universal. Maybe the best ride in the whole park -- it's a virtual simulation that takes place on a Krusty the Clown rollercoaster car. Most awesome part is when a giant radioactive Maggie Simpson takes the cart, sucks it like a soother, then spits you out again (slobber and all).
- Rose and Crown's English Pub
- Immaculate weather. The pool, the parks. It's perfect.

Lowlights (listen up, Florida):
- Long lineups. Of course, today was President's Day so an approx 2 hour wait for Soarin' in Epcot was expected.
- Timeshare Sharks. Because we're at a resort, there are always smooth talking salesmen lurking around with their slicked back hair, crooked teeth, and gold chains aplenty. Beware the Timeshare Sharks. And finally...
- Seagulls. Apparently they've taken over. You think I'm exaggerating/overreating, but I'm not! Ask anyone visiting Florida -- these birds are down right obnoxious in places. The pests have zero manners, flapping around in people's hair, squealing on the offbeats of every classic Disney song, and divebombing anyone whenever they feel like it. I even think the employees are scared of them. I saw one waiter drop a piece of toast and pause to look around before picking it up and darting through the kitchen doors. The poor guy peeked back through the window, up at a lamp post where a seagull was resting, and I SWEAR the bird shot him one of those "I'm watching you" movements with its right wingtip. Believe it or not.

On a brighter note, let's back up a bit. Yesterday I accomplished one of my goals!!!!! Which one, you ask? Wellllll...

#3: Try something I've never ever ever ever ever tried. And what did I do, exactly?

I ate crocodile tails.


[silence... *crickets*... silence]


Come on people, CROCODILE TAILS! Are you not impressed?? Well, it was new to me. Not too bad, either -- sorta tasteless, though. Oh well. Ripping apart crocodile tails with my bare teeth and downing it with dad's beer may juuust have been manly enough to offset any homosexual side-effects of the Rooty Tooty.

4 more goals to go!

Send some good luck (Cinderella will be mine!), and be sure to keep checking in. If I don't update again in three days, there's a good chance the gulls got me.

Red Eyes, Night Skies

For those of you who don't know, I left. Gone. Disappeared. Vanished -- poof! Yup, flew far away. No doubt you miss me already, and you should, so thanks. Much appreciated.

Time: 3:51am. I'm off to Orlando, sitting in the Toronto airport on a seven hour lay-over. I don't mind, really. My brother and mom collapsed hours ago on the cafeteria chairs, my dad's blasting Whitney Houston waaaaay too loud in his earbuds, and I'm playing a certain videogame involving Melee Island (10 blog points to whoever can name it!). As indicated in the blog title, my family decided to only fly ridiculously late at night this year. Haven't you heard? Daytime is soooo trite. Darkness is exclusive, refined, private -- night's the new day, people.

I'll keep you bloggies* updated as my trip progresses. I guarantee there will be thrilling, terrifying, heart-wrenching/tear-jerking moments, so stay wired.

In fact, to ensure such entertainment, I've decided to set some goals for this holiday. They include:

1. Get a kiss from Cinderella. Ultimately I'd love to marry her for US citizenship, but I think I'll take whatever I can get. Plus, Prince Charming might beat the crap out of me.
2. Snap a pic with Winifred's spellbook from the movie Hocus Pocus. I know they keep it in Planet Hollywood, so I MUST hunt it down.
3. Try something I've never ever ever ever ever tried (open to anything)
4. Yell at a rollercoaster full of arm-waving women: "all you single ladies, put your goddamn hands down!" [see blog post #3]
5. Make it out of Toronto alive. Seriously, their janitors have knives.

Wish me luck!! I'm pretty used to navigating Disney World, so I think I'll be able to stalk Cinderella, find a spellbook, and outrun Prince Charming with little to no trouble. 'Til next time, have fun freezing while I'm toasting to a nice, light brown by the tropical rays!


*Bloggies = collective term used to refer to all the smart, attractive people who follow this blog

The Bathroom Peeper

Have you ever been in so much of rush to shower that after you're done you throw back the curtain and the rod comes crashing down? Then, trying not to lose your balance as you teeter, naked, with some stupid steel pole, you look up and see someone WATCHING you?? Like some bathroom peeper?!?! And so you try covering yourself up with the gross shower curtain before realizing it's just your reflection in the mirror staring back, practically saying "what the fuck, dude?"



yaaaa...

wait -- what was that? you think that happened to me??
psshh whatever. no way. nuh-uh. forget it.