#my brother's school (which he attended up until last year) still uses vhs

[runandhideguys]

I feel like those "only people born before *insert date probably in the 80s or 90s* remember this" are so ridiculously middle class usamerican... (and wishful thinking but that's besides the point)

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #85: “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” | December 7, 2003 - 11:30 PM | S08E04

Happy 20th anniversary, Adult Swim. And, boy, what a momentous episode of Ghost do we have here to celebrate. There are a number of episodes where the guest is an event unto itself and this is truly one of them. Frequent punchline William Shatner is an absolute cunt... and a proper legend. His cuntiness and legendary status are two things that seem to be at odds with one another, and the Space Ghost crew have managed to come up with an artfully idiosyncratic episode to match Shatner’s weird-guy-ness. It’s a classic for sure, and important. But (making a “smug dipshit” face) is it funny?

YES! It’s FUNNY! I will admit though, the first time I saw this episode I didn’t quite know what to make of it. This is partially because I’m very much a Star Trek agnostic. I’ve never been into Star Trek. In the last few years I’ve watched most of the pre-Next Gen motion pictures for inane list-making reasons, and I enjoyed them to varying degrees, but Star Trek is truly not for me. I’m more of a... well, I’m not a Star Wars guy either. What’s the other one? Uh... Spaceballs. That’s it. I’m more of a Spaceballs guy.

But I feel like I’ve absorbed a lot of Star Trek lore through cultural osmosis. I vaguely understand that William Shatner has had some deliberately-paced choreographed fight scene on those rocks from Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey. When I hear music similar to the the music that Jim Carrey hums in The Cable Guy, I’m pretty sure whatever it is I’m watching is doing a Star Trek thing. And yes, I’ve watched every single Red Letter Media “Mike and Rich talk about Star Trek for 4 hours” video. But even today, after having picked up more Star Trek knowledge on my journey to the grave, I still have this nagging feeling of “I only sort of get this”.

Still, this episode has a handful of screamingly funny lines, and the episode ends wonderfully, with Space Ghost in his death throes, suffering the ultimate indignity of dying in front of William Shatner. There’s also the part where Zorak asks why everyone in Star Trek is black, and a part where Moltar nervously reads from his fan fiction (from a book labeled TARD WARS, hahaha). Shatner, who has a reputation for being arrogant and difficult, is as good a sport as one could hope. The show makes good use of his hammier moments, and only shits on him slightly in the process. The most notable moment is when Shatner says to Zorak “didn't you and I fight to the death?” to which Zorak replies “That sounds pretty dumb, man”. I’ve actually quoted this line many times. It’s one of the best.

Also, for those of you who like to track these things: the show features callbacks to other episodes and shows; the handimen at Zorak’s apartment are clearly extras from Sealab 2020/2021, one of the Leprechauns from Aqua Teen Hunger Force shows up, and there’s a poignant callback to classic Space Ghost episode “Banjo”. 

The title motif of this season is naming the episodes after Allman Brothers songs, and I always wondered about this one. Maybe I’m reaching, and it’s probably too disrespectful to be true, but I always thought that it was somehow a veiled reference to Shatner’s wife, whom he supposedly killed or let die. It’s simply too dark to be true, but it’s the first thought that immediately jumped to my mind when I first heard the title of this episode. Am I stupid for thinking this? Am I stupid because it OBVIOUSLY is a reference to that?? I simply do not know. I would like to know.

MAIL BAG

The big anniversary is upon us. What are your 20 favorite things about adult swim for 20 years going. Don't sleep on this question!

I gotta do SOMETHING special, so I might as well do this. More thought could have gone into this, but I spent about an hour trying to come up with episodes or moments from 20 different shows and putting them in rough chronological order. I limited myself to one episode/scene/moment/joke/whatever per show so it’s not all Space Ghost jokes. So, here we go:

Sealab 2021: “I, Robot”. Adult Swim proved it could be brilliant right out of the gate with the stealth premiere of “I, Robot”, but for Sealab it’s all downhill from here. (2000)

Space Ghost Coast to Coast: Space Ghost stops in his tracks to reminisce about the time Bobcat Goldthwait said "crack a window". The entire episode “Kentucky Nightmare” is brilliant, but this moment in particular so uniquely captures my sense of humor that it’s inexplicable. The dumb look on Space Ghost’s face when he stops in his tracks. Goddamn. (2001)

Aqua Teen Hunger Force: “Mayhem of the Mooninites” I tried very hard to make this all be individual jokes or scenes or whatever, but this is another episode where the entire thing is just line after line and I can’t really pick. This, “I Robot”, and “Kentucky Nightmare” is like a perfect trio illustrating how good Adult Swim really was right out of the gate. (2001)

Home Movies: Jason casually reveals that his parents have no idea who Brendon and Melissa are and that he spends most of his free-time making movies with them. This is the episode “Storm Warning” which is overall one of the best episodes of Home Movies, but this scene is probably my favorite. Illustrates how simple and hilarious the comedy is on this show. (2002)

Tom Goes to the Mayor: the end scene in “Undercover”, where they’ve shoddily reversed Tom’s various unnecessary surgeries and called him “Taumpy Tears” to boot. Positively sublime. (2006)

Metalocalypse: Dr. Rockso’s music video. From the episode “Dethclown”. I was never in love with this show as much as the true fans were, but there were a handful of incredible episodes. This episode basically tells one joke over and over and it’s very funny. It really ends with a bang showcasing Dr. Rockso’s shitty music video that celebrates cocaine use. His singing voice is hilarious. (2006)

Assy McGee: I am the only person in the world that defends Assy McGee as being “actually pretty good” and it’s all entirely due to this one line: Assy McGee (a pair of naked buttocks with legs, whose ass functions as his head) is forced to attend a black tie event and is just milling around wearing nothing but a black bow tie. Through clenched anus he delivers the line “I can barely breathe in this penguin suit”. The whole show is worth it for that joke. I don’t even know what episode it is except that it’s from one of the first few. I might not even have the line exactly right. But, I remember laughing so hard. I may not have laughed at Assy McGee again. (2006)

Saul of the Mole Men: The opening theme song. And nothing else. (2007)

Tim & Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!: Jim and Derrick. I should pick something more user-friendly maybe, since this episode almost entirely relies on being familiar with Tim & Eric’s previous episodes. But goddamn, this episode is such a funny concept (which is basically Tim & Eric doing an alternate MTV-ified version of Awesome Show) (2008)

Moral Orel: “Numb”. When Moral Orel suddenly stopped being a quirky Adult Swim comedy and suddenly started doing episodes that resembled art films. This episode is a fucking masterpiece. I remember sobbing the first time I saw it. There are a few in season 3 that are like that, but this one is my favorite. (2008)

Check it Out! with Dr. Steve Brule: Terry Bruge-Hiplo reviews “Dumpster’s Children”. Another bit of comedy that I’d describe as “inexplicable” and “sublime”, and it all hinges on an old man’s mouth. Holy fuck. I don’t think I’ve laughed harder than this at a TV show since. (2010)

Delocated: The ending of “Mole”, an extended Face/Off riff where Jon goes undercover as the scary mobster Sergei. In the final moments of the episode he marries a woman, fathers multiple children with her, and only then is pulled out of the mission. The episode is a tour-de-force of comic acting by Steve Cirbus, who is graciously allowed to shine for most of the episode. But man, that ending is fucking wonderful. (2010)

Venture Bros.: The ending of “Operation P.R.O.M.” a flurry of emotions hit me when “Like a Friend” by Pulp starts playing. The scene is so well done and weirdly touching. Brock realizes that deep down he gives a shit about the Venture family and is genuinely terrified something might happen to them. And then he gets to slaughter a bunch of Zorak monsters, which is also weirdly sweet. It’s even touching on a meta-level knowing that Jackson and Doc tried many times and failed to include licensed music in the show. I love Venture Bros, but I think we’d all be better off if this were the series finale. Sorry. I had to say it. (2010)

The Heart She Holler: The first scene with Patton being taught the way of the world posthumously by his father on a VHS tape. The first season of this show is amazing, but that scene, especially where Patton does a little Japanese bow and says “oh, hot dog!” is just hysterical. Literally every time a hot dog comes up in conversation my wife and I quote it. Please, do not scorn her, it’s not racist when SHE does it. (2011)

Eagleheart: The All That Jazz inspired finale. “Paradise Rising” is mostly a masterpiece, and how it ends is so fucking incredible. Easily the most under-rated show on Adult Swim and I’m not just saying that because... you know (mimes dick-sucking) (2014)

Rick and Morty: I watched the first two episodes of Rick and Morty, thought it was good, but for some reason didn’t become a devotee until my wife made me watch the Mr. Poopybutthole episode. It’s still my favorite episode, I think. (2015)

Brett Gelman’s Dinner in America: The “Dinner with” specials are all really good, but goddamn, this one hits. Should be shown in schools. I am going to go to every grade school in my county with an AR-15 (to get past the guards, of course) and I won’t leave until they call an assembly and they let me fumble around trying to find it on vimeo and play it for the students. (2016)

The Eric Andre Show: Eric interviews Steve Schirripa. The bit where he has an intern dip his balls in Steve’s spaghetti sauce is hilarious, naturally, but I’m here to showcase the running gag where every time Steve complains how hot the studio is, Eric just wordlessly hands him an ice cube until Steve explodes. It’s one of the most childishly hilarious things I’ve ever seen. It’s perfect. (2016)

Million Dollar Extreme Presents: World Peace: The Pick-Up artist sketch. I’m mostly unimpressed with MDE, and all but a few Sam Hyde bits leave me cold. But this sketch is a crowning achievement. I mean, I think these guys suck politically and are more mean than funny, but their sensibilities yielded one really incredible piece of comedy. Okay, I laughed at the blackface sketch too. There. You dragged it out of me. (2016) Joe Pera Talks With You: This show is beautiful and I love every episode. But the episode “Joe Pera Reads You The Church Announcements” Wherein Joe discovers a new-to-him song and can’t stop listening to it, is one of the most joyous episodes of television I’ve ever seen. A gateway episode. I tell everyone to please watch this one first. (2018)

[gibelwho]

Top 5: Nostalgia Movies

This Top 5 is taking a trip down childhood memory lane to choose the best Nostalgia Movies - films that I loved as a kid and continue to love to this day. The film must have been watched multiple times during my youth and continue to be associated with a memory or tradition that was an important marker of growing up. Therefore, any film produced past 2004, when I graduated high school, has not been considered - and, to even make the cut, the film must be associated with more than just constant re-watches in our downstairs rec room (arranged with a HUGE - well, big for the ‘90s - screen with actual surround sound that my dad installed); rather, these films must be an essential part of my childhood progression into adult-hood and laid the groundwork for a future of loving cinema.

Gibelwho Productions Presents Nostalgia Movies:

5. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

4. X-Men

3. The Little Mermaid

2. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

1. Newsies

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986): As my high school career began to wrap up and I was looking ahead to college (where I had already committed to attending film school), my mother informed me of a proclamation - I was not allowed to leave her household without watching Ferris Bueller. Perhaps she knew that she needed to instill a little bit of rule-breaking encouragement into her straight A / type A child before I was to head out into the unruly world of college, but nonetheless, this film left a mark with it’s delightful adventures of Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane. Years later, I attended an LA rooftop screening where the audience all danced during the Twist and Shout parade, bringing me straight back to the joy of discovering this film with my mom. In the same tradition, I will be sure to make my kids watch this film before they leave our household for the wide world so they can learn to cause a little innocent rule-breaking. Save Ferris!

X-Men (2000): I had a secret obsession when I was a kid - I LOVED Marvel Comics. I had read all of my dad’s comic book collection from when he was a kid, I started my own collection, and had even started tracking the value of each issue. But I was a girl, and did not share this particular passion with my fellow elementary school friends (ahhh, the fear of being judged by your peers). So when I entered a movie theater as a freshman in high school (with my secret still intact) to see an X-Men film and the place was PACKED, I couldn’t contain my excitement that maybe, just maybe, more people would be into these characters and storylines. Then, when I went into my summer theatre program and my friends used X-Men characters as improv inspiration, I thought...this is going mainstream! I still didn’t confide my true colors until the MCU began and my college friends discovered that I knew a...lot more about Iron Man’s backstory than should be possible and I was officially outed. So, fully embracing my nerdom, I traveled to San Diego to the sacred ground that was Comic Con, truly cementing my love of Marvel. And now the rest of the world has caught up to why these characters are so special. That first inkling of a wider world loving what I loved started when I watched X-Men in theaters - seeing my heroes on the big screen, fighting their super villains, and the packed crowd around me was digging it!

The Little Mermaid (1989): One of my earliest memories of opening presents was from my 6th birthday, sitting in the living room and ripping open the wrapping paper to discover the VHS for The Little Mermaid - a film I had seen at school and LOVED - and now it was mine to watch at any time! Truly a special Disney moment, which is also matched with many other memories of Disney animated films (the momentous opening to Lion King and the cut to black that took my breath away in the theater, playing the Mulan soundtrack on cassette over and over singing Reflection, and identifying with Belle’s obsession with reading). I was very much the target audience for the Disney Renaissance, and I ate up all the music, the (slightly) stronger portrayal of women, and our VHS collection only grew to include all of these modern classics. The Little Mermaid kicked off a golden age for Disney Animation and little Katie grew up on the Alan Menken soundtrack.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989): Our family had three fancy VHS boxed sets for three different franchises and we watched these flicks on repeat - Star Trek movies (TOS with Kirk and Spock), the Star Wars trilogy, and the Indiana Jones films. Literally any one of the movies from these collections could make this slot, but since both of the Star franchises have already gotten love in these Top 5 lists, I’m going to pick representation from our resident archaeological professor / international adventurer. My favorite of the bunch is the third - from the thrilling opening of young Indy, to the dynamic between father and son, and the epic ending of selecting the correct Grail (“you have chosen...wisely”). Watching any one of these films is just comfort food for my soul, taking me back to the family settling in to watch in our downstairs rec room, setting the foundation for the nerdom that my parents instilled into me at a young age and that has continued to guide my interests and movie-watching to this day.

Newsies (1992): Growing up, my family had Friday movie nights, where we ordered from the Pizza Hut that was right next to a Blockbuster; my brother and I were allowed to each choose a movie to rent for the weekend. I went through a phase where I just rented Newsies on repeat. It was as though this film was made just for me - a musical, set in a historical time period, with cute boys singing and dancing, music by the magical Alan Menken - what is not to love?!? I was so obsessed with this movie that in the pre-Internet age, I wrote down the lyrics by meticulously listening, pausing, writing down, rewinding, and repeating - which was an onerous process when one was working with manual VHS tapes. I eventually got a copy of my own, the DVD when it came out, the CD of the soundtrack, and also the piano sheet music. I knew all the lines to the songs, and could probably to this day quote the majority of the movie. Years later, imagine my delight when Disney produced a Broadway musical of the movie - we took a special trip to New York on my birthday to see the show (which of course, doesn’t match up to my love for the film, the true effect of a nostalgic love for a piece of your childhood). Living in LA affords us the opportunity for magical movie-going experiences, and my husband and I scored tickets to a special showing of Newsies at the Disney El Capitan theater - and then the traveling Broadway company of Newsies the musical that was in town and performing just up the street at the Pantages theater made an appearance and performed for the audience after the movie wrapped. This film has held a special place in my heart and is the epitome of nostalgia love for a movie from childhood.

Honorable Mentions:

The Music Man (1962): The two music genres we listened to growing up were 90s country (Garth, Reba, Trisha, Wynonna!) and also musicals. Our family was very much into theater and starting at the age of twelve, I started acting in musicals at our local performing arts program for youths. Our family also watched many of the classic musicals that were filmed in the 1950s and 60s, such as Hello, Dolly, Oklahoma, and Music Man. This last film stands in as a proxy for all those classics, but was also selected in particular because I performed in a production during a summer in junior high, where I was in the background chorus (and featured in the Wells Fargo song!). The music and lyrics of this story, written by Meredith Wilson, are of such cleverness and variety - from the 4-part harmony barbershop quartet to the love song ballads, the pre-hip hop rhythmic talking song to the genius opening number of the salesmen on the train. The translation to film is serviceable and very much in the style of the musicals brought from stage to screen in the 1960s - nothing too clever and some blocking that sought to recreate a theater stage on the film set, but these series of musical films cemented my love for the genre in an accessible way just as I was starting myself to perform on stage.

Jurassic Park (1993): Oh, the raptor in the kitchen stalking the two kids stills brings me chills thinking about it. Watching that scene as a kid, I (more than once) fled the room because it was so scary! This film had it all - creepy dinosaurs, a smart teenage girl and an even smarter heroine that was a scientist, great music (whose theme I diligently learned how to play on the piano), and plenty of action! My family definitely had this on repeat in the VHS player, but I loved the movie so much that I ended up reading Michael Crichton’s novel to experience the source material - and became more aware of how a film is an adaption of a novel’s storytelling, translating from the page to the screen. I do fall in favor of reading the novel before seeing the movie, but if a film helps you discover an incredible book, it can be like diving into an extension of the world beyond what the screen can fit.

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th - January 2020

What have been your efforts in the campaign for SaveWOY and what are your upcoming plans to save WOY? Now this is a question worth answering!

In the past, I made a little list of the things I did to support SaveWOY and bring awareness to Wander Over Yonder’s existence and its third season plans. Since then, I’ve done a whole lot more from hand-drawn art to more intricate art. Some of them are almost as special as that signed poster @peepsqueak got from the WOY crew as a token of their gratitude.

Here’s an updated list of everything I did for SaveWOY so far:

Attended the SaveWOY picnic at Griffith Park, where I got to sign a banner.

Pointed out various higher-ups involved in the business of Disney television.

Sent several letters to the higher-ups, some of which had envelopes with an image of the downed space pod taped to them.

Started a weekly Twitter post series, SaveWOY Thought of the Week.

Made Lite-Brite art of Wander and Lord Hater, which Craig McCracken and Francisco Angones liked.

Attended D23 2017 with an Operation: FORCE drawing of Hater, a colored page of Wander and Sylvia and a few facts about WOY, and an orange pen with a green hat (I got the hat from the aforementioned picnic) - there, I signed a bench with Wander and the phrase, “Never hurts to help.”

Signed my name, drew Wander (and my own character, Jacken DeBox), and wrote, “Happiest place in outer space!” on the highest beam for Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.

Wrote a letter (and drew Wander) for the victims of the Las Vegas tragedy with the message, “The darkest times call for the sunniest smiles!”

Got Craig to reveal the name of the ship (said to play a BIG part in S3, made a cameo in Future-Worm) when I commented that we’d have to figure out the name - his response: “The ship is called The Star Nomad.”

Wrote a couple of cards to two Disney higher-ups with the message, “A little nice makes naughty think twice!”

Drew Dominator in a situation that might take place several seconds after she passes the downed space pod, just in time for Noël Wells’s B-day.

Made the Star Nomad with LEGO Digital Designer.

Made three images in the style of the original Star Wars trilogy VHS set.

Posted 50 WOYS3PredictionPolls on Twitter.

Made an image of “The First 5 Years” with over 140 individuals (including the question marks for 3 new mains and 2 new regulars - I still want to know what they look like!) and one cleverly made Hidden Mickey.

Shared WOY-related images from my 1st 5 Years fan art on Twitter acknowledging the B-days of most of the voice actors (Charlie Adler, Kevin Michael Richardson, Ken Marino, Josh Sussman, H. Michael Croner, James Adomian, Jason Ritter, and Piotr Michael clearly noticed).

Typed a summary of how I think the S3 premiere would go.

Typed lyrics to “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’,” a song from my aforementioned S3 premiere summary. Wouldn’t it be great if Andy Bean used it?

Made a microgame with WarioWare: D.I.Y. where the player has to spin the fan to make the Star Nomad fly. Part of a chorus from “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’” included.

Started FanCharacterFriday on Twitter - more Tumblr users seem to like Dr. Otmar Vunderbar.

Made a short comic page of Lord Hater trying to break out of the DTVA vault plus a sly reminder that Disney owns the rights to WOY.

Shared a list of potential episode titles for S3.

Made an actual LEGO Star Nomad based on the model made with LDD. Hopefully, those who worked on WOY have noticed. In case you missed it, here’s a picture...

Now, the ideas I have in mind for further boosting support for the campaign. I may not be able to do most of them myself, but they are certainly for everyone’s consideration.

Provide updated information of higher-ups (if any).

As soon as we find out what Kid Cosmic looks like, expect fan art of him saying, “Watch my show and tell your friends so we’ll make that Mousey Company pay for what they did to my half-brother!”

Another SaveWOY picnic - if there’s one in my general area, you can count me in.

LP album artwork of My Fair Hatey.

A mural identical to that of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate consisting of not just characters from WOY, but also characters who were said to debut in S3 and characters who’d fit in perfectly, namely some of my OCs.

Pumpkin stencils of the main characters for Halloween.

Drawings of various WOY characters stuck on the ex-secret planet explaining why they need to leave said planet. Maybe I could also show how the galaxy’s villains would react if they learn that Lord Dominator’s been bested by Lord Hater.

Drawings consisting of SaveWOY-related messages spoken by the main characters from Disney shows that got at least three seasons (e.g. DuckTales, Fish Hooks), tons of love from the viewers and the executives (e.g. Gravity Falls), or both (e.g. SvtFoE, Mickey Mouse ‘13).

Example with Phineas and Ferb:

Phineas: “We may be creative and famous, but we’re not the ones who came up with the Star Nomad. It’s the ship powered by orbbles! Orbbles! I’d LOVE to see it take flight, wouldn’t you? If you let Mr. McCracken end the show his way, and not the executive way, which, truth be told, is the absolute worst, Wander will surely be elated!”

Ferb: “The Orbble Transporter was invented by conjoined twin brothers, voiced by the performers of the theme song.”

Irving (peeking in from the side): “Speaking of voices, the titular main character sounds JUST LIKE ME! How could you possibly resist?! And look, just because I’m the biggest fan of these guys (gesturing to P&F) doesn’t mean I have no interest in what’s planned for the furry orange fella!”

Since I’m a full-time Disneyland cast member, I should be able to make contacts with anyone who might have more clues about what S3 would entail. It might be a long shot, but if I’m able to convince Disney that WOY’s influence on my life boosted my chance at gaining employment at the company, they should understand.

A weekly Jeopardy-type pop quiz on Twitter - here’s the catch: you must refrain from finding information online when you read the answer (I bet you that the most hardcore fans of the most popular shows will get most of the questions wrong).

Example: This arachnomorph got his name from a dog tag he swallowed when he infiltrated a fish-shaped ship. He later became Lord Hater’s beloved pet.

-Who is Captain Tim?

Summaries of S3 episodes I made up myself a while back.

More fan-made characters - my most recent is an elected official of Cluckon, Mayor Spye C. Drumstick.

Conjuring a logo that best fits the status of S3/TV movie - Wander Over Yonder: The New Galaxy (the center would have the silhouette of the Star Nomad with Wander and Sylvia on it).

Brainstorming possible ideas for the three new main characters.

If all else fails, I suggest we make a web comic based on the hints we accumulated back in 2016 and what we learned from the cameo in Future-Worm’s finale. Team Sea3on has been taking that approach for SatAM Sonic the Hedgehog S3, though they are also making an animated version.

That’s about all I’ve got so far. In closing, I have several questions to ask as the new decade kicks off.

Disney executives: Are you even listening to us WOY fans? What more do you want? I’ve done so much for the campaign that I feel I’m entitled to know everything that was planned for WOY’s third and final season, especially now that I’m working full-time for your company. If you tell us what your demands are, we’d be happy to oblige.

@crackmccraigen: Are you aware of how hard the fans and I have been trying to talk Disney into giving you the chance for true closure? We’ll make sure we watch KC when it comes out on Netflix. If we’re lucky, we might see WOY get added to Disney+, where it should get that closure, assuming you’ll have finished KC your way before then.

@suspendersofdisbelief: I know you’re super busy with DuckTales and you love the plans for WOY S3 so much that you can’t bear to reveal it all in one post, but it’s been waaaay too long since we got any hints from you. Are there any other WOY S3-related facts you could describe in much greater detail? The campaign could do with more motivation.

Non-WOY fans: Are you convinced? Need I remind you what’s in the end tag of the “last” episode of WOY? You know there’s much more to life than tales from the land of Ooo, a blue middle school cat boy in a world of unusual individuals, adolescent twins in an Oregon town filled with oddities, a half-gem half-human protagonist, a coming-of-age princess of Mewni, a trio of ursine trend-followers in San Francisco, and all that jazz. If you’re not one bit interested in Hater’s origin story and all that was planned for S3, it’s your loss.

Pessimists: Will you please dispense with this unnerving “Wander is dead” talk? As a certain Popeye would say, “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more!” You’re not trying to let the Disney bosses win, are you? You probably used to think previously canceled shows like Hey Arnold!, Samurai Jack, and Young Justice could never be brought back. The point is, all is not lost.

@peepsqueak and WOY fans/SaveWOY supporters: Have I been of assistance? Almost every remark I’ve ever made shows wit and perception. I mean, just think. Wander is still stuck in that vault where his goal of reforming Lord Hater remains incomplete, and he has no idea of what threat awaits him. He says, “Glorn, help us.” It’ll take something big and extraordinary to convince every Disney fan (and perhaps every Netflix fan) to talk some sense into the higher-ups. Not to mention the replacement/back-up voice actors we’ll have to find if Disney takes even longer (we already lost one - René Auberjonois). We shan’t rest until we get the answers!

@disneyanimation

[talix18]

November 22

Today I learned what a Japanese tuxedo is (in terms of tattoos) and that David Lee Roth at 65 has more energy in one hour than I’ve had in my entire life put together. I started listening to his appearance on Marc Maron’s WTF? and spent most of that time laughing or with my jaw hanging open. I lost track of Diamond Dave after his stint as an EMT. Now he’s an entrepreneur with a line of skin products formulated for tattooed skin. Gods bless.

Listening to Dave describe his formal music education made me wonder if that’s not what I ought to go back to school for. Music is the thing I love the most but have little actual education in. I took a beginning theory class in college and some sort of classical music appreciation course in grad school; I even played viola for two years in junior high. I guess by the time I got to college I’d ruled music out as a thing one could start studying. One of my high school friends had been playing cello for her entire life and I remember her missing various activities because she was practicing. She’s now making a living with her cello and I guess her example made me assume it was already too late.

Katelyn and I were talking about going back to school the other night. She’s learning young just how hard it is to make new friends once you’re out of school and I think she’d enjoy it, but we’re both looking at our wallets wondering how to pay for it.

School is one of my happy places. I loved learning, I loved feeling my brain work, I hated studying for exams but loved the feeling of understanding the material. I loved explaining to the class what the teacher meant when they couldn’t parse it and I loved making outline after outline of my study notes until I’d whittled the course down to bullet points. I love having conversations with people who are smarter than I am.

I briefly considered pursuing a Certificate of Higher Learning from Oxford because how cool would it be to be able to say I’m an Oxford alum? The majority of classes can be attended virtually, which is where I admit that I don’t just want to be taking classes by myself. I have a wealth of Great Courses available anytime I want to go ahead and start taking them. I want to Go To School. I want to meet smart people. I want to be surrounded by that energy and excitement again.

Now I’m looking up Eddie Van Halen and learning that he’s been in radiation therapy for his cancer for five years and was just in the hospital after a bad reaction to the drugs. Getting older, as my Gram used to say, ain’t for sissies. Love died for me when Eddie and Val got divorced but I’m glad they’re still friends and I’m thrilled he’s been sober for eleven years. I’m not sure I would have survived a rock and roll lifestyle, but then again, I’d rarely be driving.

(Speaking of the brothers Van Halen, how did I never know their mom was Indonesian? Now I understand why Alex’s eyes have looked vaguely Asian to me for all these years. Apparently Valerie has a cooking show and shared Mama VH’s recipe for something that grabbed Mom’s fancy so I can look forward to that!) (Don’t tell her that I’m a little meh on ham for Thanksgiving. She’s finally cooking Brussels sprouts a new way and I am calling that a win.)

(Mom found a recipe YEARS ago that uses Guinness and had faithfully made her “Relapse Brussels sprouts” every year since. They are fine, but they are mushy, and having seen the way, truth, and light of fresh Brussels sprouts roasted with salt and olive oil, I don’t have the heart to tell her that the Relapse BS just aren’t my favorite.)

This is my fourth day in a row of feeling pretty good, and that’s on less sleep than I normally get. I really hope this is because the medication is working. It’s hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other when you feel like you’re doing it in three feet of water. But I’ve been productive at work and at home and actually considered taking on a work training challenge today. I even started my Christmas shopping! (I hate much of what Jeff Bezos stands for, but goddamn if Amazon doesn’t alleviate most of the Christmas crazy.)

The increased meds are not helping the words come out! I have rare free time in front of a keyboard and nothing to say? Maybe that *is* a sign of increased mental health.

December is flat out insane in my family. Thank goodness my aunt moved away with her 12/4 birthday! There were birthday dinners with Mom (12/2), my aunt, me (12/20), and my dad (12/26). My brother’s birthday is also on the 20th and he’s continued the tradition in the latest generation – my niece will be five on 12/1. Her Aunt Lindsay has decided it’s time we start taking her out for birthday dinners. Basically, the fulcrum of the year tips at Thanksgiving and is just a steep slide into New Year’s. (Which I actually have plans for!)

Christmas shopping is so anxiety-laden for me that I have bad dreams about it all year long. (It’s always the same: December 23rd, I’ve purchased nothing, and the only place open in Walgreen’s.) I can’t enjoy the holiday season until I’m relatively sure what everyone’s getting and honestly, I don’t need any more stuff. Just being together and enjoying yummy food is enough for me. The holidays also mean the Hebert Christmas punch tradition from which I’ve been excluded for this will be the 24th time (I can drink anything I want! I choose not to!). My family are all wine and spirit drinkers and most of the time I look around it, but the holidays really make me miss that fuzzy festive feeling.

So how does one achieve that without using? I need to get back on a meditation routine and I need to make upside-down yoga part of my weekly life. Upside-down yoga always made me a little giddy and we rarely invert in the class I take now. I also need to try on my New Year’s Dress and assess how vigilant I have to be between now and then to make it work. I was having some success with an intermediate fasting routine where I’d restrict my calories for two (non-consecutive) days per week. The beauty of that schedule is that I can maintain it through the holidays. I should have just started this week after the colonoscopy.

But I also had a pretty severe mood crash last year and fasting is not for the unstable. Yes, I’m an emotional eater but you know, I’d rather eat my feelings than wish I could opt out of life. I know how to lose weight; necromancy is above my spell level.

Did I ever mention I was a witch and practiced in a coven for a decade? I’ve just gotten to the 20K word mark and it’s likely I’ll start repeating myself any time now. The coven was made of some amazing people but the actual business of witching just felt too much like work. I went in looking for a spiritual experience and what I got was a delightful social experience. That required a lot of time and 40-mile drives and the stagnation of my 12-Step recovery in that decade was not a coincidence.

Yesterday I got to whip out one of my favorite recovery slogans on a friend: “Religion is for people trying to stay out of hell. Spirituality is for people who’ve already been there.” It doesn’t hold up once you consider religions that don’t have conceptions of hell, but it’s catchy.

(The NaNoWriMo website helpfully breaks down how many words one has to produce per day to get to 50K by next Sunday and it is a little overwhelming. I only need 2235 more today to stay on target! [I am not staying on target.])

Somebody give me a topic! (Give me a beat!) Oh! Yesterday I emptied out one of my spare room dressers, which is something that’s been on my project list for, oh, a long time. All I have to do is patch the hole and that room will be ready to paint, which will let me do the floors in that room and the front. With that done I’ll have my closet annex and yoga station all set up and I will finally live in my entire house. And it should inspire me to do the last three rooms.

I’m excited to set up these last two rooms as functional spaces. I can’t tell you what’s taken me so long to surrender to the idea that I need a room-sized closet extension but look…I have to grab joy wherever I can find it. Waiting for the big stuff to fall into place just takes too long and this bizarre timeline provides plenty of reasons to despair. I don’t understand how people can spend eight hours a day in cubes that aren’t decorated and I am not going to limit myself to one of my life’s compulsions if I have room to store it all. (Vanessa is in Tennessee shouting “You’ll never have room for another person in your house that way!” and I’m shouting back “You and your person bought a new house!”)

I do love my house, though, and getting me out of it is going to take some extraordinary conditions. With any luck I’ll meet a life partner who also loves their house and we can commute and share. I still won’t have enough wall space to hang everything I want to; perhaps a rotating gallery space is required. Says the girl who can’t manage to swap the screens out for storm windows and vice versa every year.

[eldritch-babe]

the human delusion

a self-indulgent character study of my Newman and the neurological con job of love, with a squeeze of MCxJonny at the end

(note: vague sexual references as well as an unwanted but avoided sexual advance)

Her first relationship is in kindergarten. The boy who ate glue in her class gave her a frog, she threw it as hard as she could into the dirt to see what would happen, and then the boy declared that they were married.

Considering Eve doesn’t remember divorce proceedings, she’s still technically married.

Then came the fairy tales, the romance movies, the thousands of stories shoved down her throat about lovely princesses with true loves. She could hardly tolerate them, mostly confused as to how humans can become so attached to one another, so ready to sacrifice themselves for something as fleeting and ineffectual as monogamy. “Love” is tossed around a lot, as well as “like-like” with her classmates, which seems to mean one and the same thing and convinces Eve that words are meaningless and romance is a scam.

The part where kitchen sculleries and maids become princesses in castles just by batting their eyelashes at some boy with money sticks with her, though.

.....

In second grade, she gets ice cream with Livvy and someone whistles from a car. She doesn’t hide her confusion, and Livvy explains in that strangely roundabout way she does with certain topics that she’s not allowed to discuss in public until she’s older. Something about how “boys are creeps” and will treat her poorly.

She doesn’t bother to tell Livvy about her three boyfriends, or how she doesn’t like any of them.

Anthony’s mother gives him cupcakes in his sack lunch, and being his girlfriend means in exchange for holding his sweaty hand, she can get a cupcake whenever she feels like it. Min-soo is the fastest runner in their class, which means a lot of other girls like-like him, so she also declared him her boyfriend to upset them. And Nathan is easy to cheat off of during spelling tests, so she wears the stupid flowers he picks for her in her hair until the petals fall off.

Boys may not treat her well, but Eve will treat them worse, and so she only nods along to Livvy’s words and finishes her ice cream.

.....

Her first kiss happens in sixth grade, at a birthday party. In a corner of the backyard, away from prying adult eyes and with the sun setting, a glass bottle spins around a circle of prepubescent students. Eve is less than impressed with the whole affair, as the first three people to spin it then refuse to follow the rules and kiss who it lands on, because it’s so “embarrassing.”

When her turn comes, she spins it on the concrete patio, watches it land on a boy with curly hair whose name she never bothered to learn, and she leans forward and plants her lips against his, the rest of the circle breaking into gasps and hollers.

The boy blushes, the girls sitting next to her giggle into their hands, and Eve still doesn’t get the appeal of kissing.

Later, when she’s waiting for her mom to pick her up, that same boy comes up to her, still blushing and stammering, “S-so do you want to, um, be boyfriend-girlfriend?”

She looks over at him, sizing him up with an unimpressed once-over. He can’t make eye contact, is shorter than her, and she still can’t be bothered to remember his name.

“No.”

He looks hurt by the venom in her tone, and she doesn’t speak to him again.

.....

Her second kiss is in eighth grade, at a sleepover party her mother forces her to attend.

Of the girls in attendance, Eve is pretending to be friends with the three most popular of them, and of those three she really only tolerates Rebecca, or “Becky” as she prefers after entering middle school with a new wardrobe. Their relationship has been forged on mercilessly teasing the boys in their health class and being the only two relatively unaffected by the sex ed portion of the year.

They set their sleeping bags next to each other, sitting close throughout the night, with the sleeves of their pajamas brushing against each other. When the group turns off the lights to watch The Exorcist, courtesy of an older brother who snuck them the VHS, Becky curls into Eve’s side. At several points, she hides her face in Eve’s shoulder while Eve delights in the sickening effects and the screams of the other girls.

She thinks, off-handedly, that Becky smells nice. Most of the other girls smell too sweet, but whatever shampoo Becky uses on her dark hair is pleasantly citrusy.

When they all settle in for the night, Eve makes sure she’s the last to fall asleep, to avoid whipped cream or a bowl of warm water. As snores fill the living room and she gives up trying to get comfortable on the carpet, the sleeping bag next to her shifts.

“Are you awake?” Becky whispers, and her breath is right in Eve’s ear, and it sends a shiver down her casket’s body.

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause. “Can we talk?”

They’re careful not to disturb the others, tiptoeing around sleeping bags and fleece blankets. Eve follows Becky as she leads them to the coat closet in the front hallway, opening the door.  

Eve blinks, brows furrowing. “Why in here?”

“I want to talk in private.”

Eve considers for a moment, decides that she could easily take the smaller girl if something were to happen, and steps inside, flicking on the light switch when Becky shuts the door. The space is cramped, winter coats on hangers shifting as they face each other and Becky takes a deep breath.

“Be cool about this.”

“Spit it out, Becky.”

The girl flinches, takes another breath, and crosses her arms tightly. “My cousin...we found out she likes girls,” she mumbles, looking up at Eve through heavy lashes, voice small as she continues, “Like, she’s a lesbian, or whatever.”

That word is vaguely familiar, and Eve shrugs. “Okay.”

Becky brightens, straightening her back and loosening her arms. “You don’t think it’s grodie?”

Eve shakes her head. Truth be told, she’s never understood humans who get so hung up on what other humans do – do they not realize how short their lifespans are, how insignificant all their actions end up being?

“I just...” Becky trails off, retreating into herself once more, voice below a whisper now, so that Eve has to lean forward, bringing them even closer in this already small space and that nice citrus smell back in her nose. “I kind of want to try it. Don’t wig out on me, but I thought, maybe...”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Part of her almost doesn’t want to go through with it, remembering her last lackluster experience with kissing and undecided if it’s worth her time.

However, Becky’s lips are soft, and her hands cradle her face, and when they leave the coat closet, Eve finally gets the appeal of kissing.

They go to sleep and when morning comes, Becky doesn’t look at her. When Eve brings up wanting to try kissing again a week later, Becky giggles nervously and tells her to stop being weird, looking at her as if she has three heads and then uninviting her to a sleepover. They don’t speak again, but Becky and the other two popular girls whisper about her when they pass in the hallway at school.

Eve realizes girls will treat her poorly, too.

.....

By high school, she has her flirting honed, using it to her full advantage.

It’s almost boring with how easy it is, so she cycles through relationships as she pleases. One month she’s wearing the varsity jacket of the quarterback, reveling in the awed whispers and smirking at the envious glares. Then the next, some Junior got a nice car for their birthday and she’s on their arm, claiming that passenger seat and getting free rides to wherever she desires.

At one point, she kisses some drop-out in the making, Henry, beneath the bleachers in exchange for getting her a six-pack for a party.

He decides to spread a rumor that she did unspeakable things to a certain limb of his, and she gets a less than complimentary word written on her locker in Sharpie, the rumor haunting her for a month.

So she claims it’s true, and slips in some details about a strange sexual fantasy and the underwhelming length of that certain limb.

That rumor haunts Henry right up until he drops out a year later.

After that, boys are more wary of her, and she shifts her focus.

She finds out, through weeks of gossip and tracking down secrets and slipping into different groups, that Becky from eighth grade has her eyes on a pretty girl in her art class with ash brown hair.

And having Becky open the door of a coat closet at a party after prom, only to find that pretty girl with her tongue down Eve’s throat, ties up her high school experience in a neat little bow, sending her off to college more than confident that the humans around her are pawns with fragile hearts and a weakness for skirts.

.....

This is when she really gets the kissing thing down, amongst other things, and realizes that despite the limitations this human form places on her, she can also wring out some pleasure from it.

Still, even that gets boring after a while, and so what might constitute a dating life begins to settle into something sparse with her. The occasional fling gets her through especially boring times, and she still goes for a twirl of her hair and bat of her eyelashes to get her way or out of trouble, but the challenge of it all is mostly gone.

Humans, she has found, are disappointingly simple to bend, figuratively.

It becomes especially apparent at the few frat parties she attends. Girls in tight shirts attract boys in loose pants, and the whole thing is nauseatingly stupid, with no finesse, nothing really to it besides some alcohol, puffs from something being passed around, and physically rubbing bodies together.

And some of them will still naively believe that love exists, that love is separate from the hormones coursing through their bodies now, that a different kiss could matter.

Eve stands in a corner, watching the party before her with a red cup in hand and an openly disgusted look on her face. She finishes off the warm beer, deciding she’ll convince that cheerleader with a symmetrical face to kiss her and become the center of attention for a moment, when a body slams into the wall next to her.

She looks over, into the eyes of some guy with patchy facial hair and an ill-fitting polo. His breath reeks of cheap alcohol as he leans far too close to her, purring over the music, “You must be Eve.”

He doesn’t continue, and her patience is wearing out quickly in the face of his audacity. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m hurt, babe.” Even his laugh is slurred, and she inches her body away, but that only seems to incentivize him to step forward. “You haven’t heard of me?”

“No and I don’t want to.”

This should be the end of the conversation, and to make that abundantly clear, Eve turns, intent on heading towards the staircase and leaving. Before she can get even two steps away, however, a hand grips her upper arm, tight enough that she involuntarily winces. The stranger pulls her back toward him, forcing her to face him as his voice is a step away from a growl.

“Don’t be like that.”

It’s not the first time someone has been a creep, like Livvy warned all those years ago. Eve laments the loss of her true form, wishing for the hundredth time just this week that she had it back. It’d certainly get his hand off of her, and probably break his feeble mind into a dozen pieces before he simply ceased to exist.

But she can make do in this form, can puff out her chest and drop her voice to its own growl, the consonants clear as she chews the syllables through grit teeth. “Let go of me.”

He doesn’t. “Sure,” he says, and his balance falters for a moment, and she has to shift her weight along with him as he readjusts his stance, “Just give me a kiss.”

Eve’s stomach rolls in disgust and she has to breathe in through her nose, out through her mouth. Then, she forces her body to relax, opening her eyes and making her gaze soft as her hand falls over his on her arm. She caresses it, leans into the touch with an astonished giggle. “Oh, you’re too strong.”

Men like that, when they’re too much. It’s one of the tools she’s picked up, always gets them smiling at her with their machismo as she coos about how they’re too strong, too funny, too smart.

This one is no different. He grins like her words mean anything, like he might mean anything to her, and it’s downright pathetic that he’s so willing to believe any of it.

She grips his fingers, and her smile grows sickly sweet.

“But I’m stronger.”

Humans, she finds, are disappointingly simple to bend.

Figuratively and literally.

That night, a young man gets treated for a broken wrist he refuses to explain, and Eve makes out with the cheerleader with the symmetrical face to applause before leaving the party alone.

.....

Her mother stops asking about her dating life after she moves out. Livvy still mentions it, especially when she practices flirting to get what she wants and to keep those muscles from atrophying.

Eve comes up with a different answer every time, keeping the truth to herself.

She’s on the edge of finally leaving, of returning to her true form – she can feel it. To get into some entanglement, to decide on giving anything serious an actual shot now would be a waste and just complicate things. Besides, if she’s expected to commit to something, it better be worthy of her, interesting to her, something other than most of the residents of St. George.

The occasional fling comes her way, and every once in a while, she stumbles on someone who’s interesting enough to pick apart for a bit, dissect until she has them unraveled before her. At some point she goes out with a bartender that her mother doesn’t like for a few months, because it means she gets discounted drinks and spites her mother. It’s the longest relationship she has, and she suspects it’s only because they work opposite hours and don’t actually see each other much.

She breaks it off when she finds out she’s being cheated on.

The bartender is confused when she remains stone-faced and near emotionless throughout the conversation, and Eve shrugs.

“Did you think I cared in the first place?”

Then they start yelling at her and she rolls her eyes, leaving without another word. She only becomes mildly upset when she realizes she can’t go back to that bar, and they had a pretty good happy hour deal.

.....

Jonny Escudero makes just about the worst first impression and she can’t stop thinking about it long after their disaster of a conversation.

He’s tall, which she’s always liked, and there’s a curve to his spine, the hunch that all tall men who don’t actually want to be that tall get. His hair looks soft, if a little greasy, and it’s long enough that she can easily imagine giving it a pull in a less public setting. It’s his eyes that really get her, a shade of green that she hasn’t seen before and that softens the sharp edges of his face.

All in all, he’s interesting to look at, and their Saturday night at Hellbender’s with Roach has her thinking that he’s interesting in plenty other ways, too.

When she visits him at work, he asks her if she’s serious, and she answers quickly and simply that she is. Of course, she’s said that to plenty of people before; it’s an easy lie, one that’s necessary to rope a lot of people in. Besides, words don’t mean much, can be twisted as easily as a wrist, and so she works that ambiguity in her favor. They don’t have to know that she isn’t in it for something as abstract and human as “love,” or “like-like,” or whatever new word they invent to encapsulate a chemical reaction to procreate.

With Jonny, though, the words sit differently in her mouth.

She realizes, belatedly, that it’s a lot closer to the truth than she realized.

Part of it is just her fascination with him going deeper than it has with the others. It’s not that he’s disinterested, but he fumbles so much and keeps his distance in ways that make it much harder to gauge his interest exactly. He’s a challenge, and Eve likes a challenge, and this one comes with a nice face and sharp tongue.

There’s another part, though, that picks at something soft in her.

Because as much as she uses others, she’s also familiar with getting used. For a while, they wanted her status, the story she could offer them to tell their friends about one wild night, how they charmed their way into the tennis skirt of little Miss Popular. Sometimes it was less insidious, someone looking for a genuine connection, but they tried to mold her into it, tried to cut off the parts they didn’t like and make her smaller.

But Jonny doesn’t want anything from her, not really.

It’s actually nice, a lot nicer than she expected. When he looks at her, there’s a weight and warmth to it that’s nice. Talking to him, getting to flow between teasing and debating and just talking to him, is nice. The quiet moments, when they’re sitting close and she leans her head against his shoulder and smells the laundry detergent he uses is nice.

And Eve doesn’t know what to do with nice, with genuine, lasting, impactful nice, the type of nice that distracts her at work and has her thinking up ways to make someone blush in her spare time.

Still, she tells herself that’s all it is – nice. Nothing more, nothing less than a change of pace that’s keeping her occupied and taking the edge off of being actively hunted once more.

.....

By the time she kisses him at Luna Ridge, she can’t pretend it’s a game any longer, can’t pretend she isn’t in this just as much as he is.

It’s not the best kiss she’s ever had, but she gets her fingers in his hair like she’s wanted to for days now, and he’s nervous and responsive and gentle to all her tugging and suddenly it’s the best kiss she’s ever had.

Roach teases her for it, and she rolls over in bed, pretending to fall asleep, but she stays up very late that night, thinking about his voice and his hands and his eyes.

He still doesn’t want anything from her, and she finds that she doesn’t want anything from him.

She just wants him.

And she still doesn’t dare indulge in the human delusion of love.

But she thinks, maybe, the idea of it is nice.

[dixonspeaker-blog]

6th Grader’s Weren’t Allowed to Play Sports

By Dixon Speaker

For Paulette Speaker

6th graders weren’t allowed to play sports. That was the rule. Maybe they wanted us focusing on the radical transition from elementary school, where one teacher taught all subjects in one single classroom, to the middle school format where 8 different teachers taught their own specialized subjects in 8 different classrooms. This was difficult, especially for young boys who latch onto any new distraction like rodeo clowns to a loose bull. Or maybe the reason was something simpler, like they didn’t want us playing contact sports with 8th graders who were significantly more developed than us. In football, for example, the middle school league was called “The Unlimited League,” as in, wow, that guy who is about to hit Dixon looks like he weighs unlimited pounds. I did play Halfback in high school, and during one game a missed down block by our center created a free sprinting lane for Garnet Valley’s 315-pound nose-tackle. I’ve never been struck by a moving car but this was the closest thing to it. Anyway, regardless of the reasoning, the rule they had was no sports, so everyone in 6th grade had to find other things to do. For me this created a problem. I played a lot of sports growing up. You could say my life was made up of finding ways to pass the time between games. Most 6th graders just went home and played with their brothers or sisters. This wasn’t an option for me. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I still don’t. On top of that, both my parents worked full time: My Dad travelled 3-4 days a week selling purified natural gasses while my mother worked until 6 o’clock at night as an executive in a furniture company. So every day after school I took the bus to Mom Mom’s. Mom Mom’s house was located literally on the edge of a cliff, sandwiched on the other side by a busy highway that she would never dream of letting me cross alone to seek out comrades in the surrounding neighborhoods. I was therefore left to occupy myself at Mom Mom’s cliff-side abode, which had several acres of fenced-in backyard to run through, but no other children to share it with. There was only so much a 12 year old child interested in sports and videogames and a 70 year old woman who grew up with a pet raccoon could do together before they both got bored. I had to find something to do with my time, and what I decided to do was to try out for the school play (This was allowed. No sports, but any and all other after school activities were acceptable). The play that year- the “fall drama” as they called it- was an adaptation of The Little Rascals.  You can guess what the play was actually about, because I don’t remember. I was not an actor. I was never in a play before. No one in my family had any type of performance background. In fact, the only time I remembered stepping foot inside a theatre was once when I was very young. A bearded man in a yellow costume darted across the stage and terrified me down to the most central whispers of my being. I cried so hard my mother had to take me home early. A picture of that man remains vivid in my memory, even today. I joined the play anyway. I had a The Little Rascals movie on VHS tape that I would watch from time to time. Also, trying something foreign and failing badly still outweighed spending every day after school alone watching Disney in a dark corner of Mom Mom’s house. Now, before trying out for the play you have to think about trying out for the play, which was much more stressful than the tryouts themselves. Being in the school play was not considered “cool” by any standards, something I was very much concerned with in 6th grade. Middle school was a weird time for me. There was a lot of figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be going on, and I knew precious little about either. What others thought of me, how I appeared, was something that consistently occupied my thoughts. It was this type of thinking that lead to the events of this story. The day before tryouts I was approached by one of the deans, Mr. Sag. We locked eyes across the hall. I knew that I was toast. Mr. Sag was old, so old that he actually taught both of my parents when they attended that same middle school many years before. Pennsylvania teachers got generous pension benefits, at least they did back then, so it was common to see strange old men like Sag in schools throughout the state. He shouted my last name as he approached me. Speaker! I didn’t say anything, just stared up at him and blinked. He was a big man. His face was a slab of wet meat hanging in a butcher shop. I heard you’re trying out for the play he said. Well, I was, you know, just thought I. His eyes fired up and he took a step closer. His head blocked all the light in the hall. He took a deep breath before he spoke. Are you an athlete, or are you some thespian? Spit flew out of his mouth in all directions. He stomped off without waiting for a response. I turned slowly just in time to see the back of his enormous head bob down the stairs and out of sight. Students were walking all around me but I might as well have been standing alone on the moon. I was impressionable and crushed to pieces. I sat quietly through the rest of my classes without answering any questions or writing a single note. I went straight to the bus after school. At Mom Mom’s I ate a TV dinner and watched Disney in the dark until my mom picked me up at 6. In the car I told her I had changed my mind. I didn’t want to try out for the play anymore.

Halfway through school the next day I changed my mind again. Screw Sag, I was trying out for that damn play. When the 2:30 bell rung I talked a bit with my friends and by three I was headed to the auditorium. It felt strange to walk the empty halls. Like I was in the same place only very far away. Another universe, maybe another time. How the tryouts went is unimportant. I forget what it is they made me do. I don’t remember rehearsing any lines, so I probably just had to read something. I got a speaking role but it wasn’t a big role and I wasn’t even a real Little Rascal. My character was just called Dixon. When the thing was over I walked down the hill to where the busses picked us up. These were called the “Five O’clock Busses,” and they had and different numbering and routing system than the traditional busses that took most of the students home at 3. The Five O’clock Busses were for kids doing activities. I asked around that day and found out what bus dropped me off closest to my Mom Mom’s house. I had not thought about being dropped off on the wrong side of the busy highway. You’ll soon see why that didn’t matter. As I stood there, a bus which was not my bus careened into the loop and stopped abruptly. The door swung open. I looked up into the bus and saw a large woman with long blonde hair wearing a baseball cap. Her hair was flying all around. She scowled down at me. I immediately recognized this woman. Her name was Millie. I knew her because she drove me to preschool and I was her first pick-up of the day. We grew close and even had a song we would sing together until we reached the second pick-up. In elementary school I turned heinous one day and she had to pull the bus over. We never spoke again until this day. She shouted at me to get in. Silently seated on that bus, bumping forward, hands in lap, the few seemingly minor decisions and the radical consequences they created began to set in. It went like this: The night before I told my mom that I was definitely not trying out for the play. So, to her, life would proceed as usual and I would take the bus home after school to Mom Mom’s. The next day I changed my mind- now this is key- and didn’t tell anyone. If something like this happened now the change of plans could be easily communicated through a simple text message. But when I was in 6th grade cell phones were just starting to be widely distributed, and I didn’t have one yet. So I stayed after school without telling a soul. It’s also important to know that I never did anything like this. I was a thoroughly responsible child, exactly where I was expected to be at the time I was expected to be there. You can imagine the shade that descended over my poor Mom-Mom’s heart when the bus pulled up to her house that day and she watched the doors swing open, then swing slowly closed, without her precious grandson exiting. Slamming shut, they sent an impossible sadness throughout her house and therefore her life as well. This set off a series of events that moved very quickly, all while I was sitting in the middle school auditorium waiting to read my lines. Mom-Mom called my mother and told her I didn’t get off the bus, and probably that she suspected someone snatched me and that I was more than likely dead. My mom, trying to remain calm, thought to herself that I just changed my mind about the play. She called the school to check. The ladies in the office told her they could call for me on the PA system and tell me to come to the office and they would call my mom back and tell her that I was all right. In many cases that would have been the end of it, but for reasons unknown, the PA system in the middle school couldn’t be heard in the auditorium, something both of the ladies in the front office were unaware of. So, when they called my mother back 20 minutes later with the news that I had not shown up, the assumption by all parties was that I was not in the school at all. This was when my mother began to panic. She quickly flapped her arms at her desk, something she does when scared. She called my dad, then Mom-Mom again, then the school again, then several friend’s houses where I could have been. When these searches turned up empty she called the school again and it was decided that all they could do was wait to see if I somehow turned up at The Five O’clock Busses, and if I did then Millie the bus driver, who knew both me and my Mom Mom, would make sure I got onto her bus and make a special one-time drop off at a road near Mom Mom’s house. If I didn’t show up at the busses I guess they would have called the police. As I got off the bus I saw Mom-Mom’s  El Camino sitting on the shoulder up the road like a cop car on a stake out. When I got home later that night there was a newly purchased cell phone sitting on the kitchen table. . . . This was one of many events I lived through while I was younger but couldn’t fully understand until I was older. I needed distance before I could evaluate the true emotional recourse of the thing. What I immediately thought was a gross overreaction I now look back on and view as a reasonable response. Of course they were going to worry. I’m their only son. My mom still tells me to this day, “I don’t have a replacement.” Even when all signs pointed to a non-event, pointed to the likelihood that I was safe, when intense love is present, it makes perfect sense to be attracted to that worst thing, to losing that love. I believe that’s what my mom and dad and Mom-Mom experienced that day, and over time I’ve learned to love them back for it. . . . I don’t know much about life, but what I do know is that it’s something like a river. You may see different sizes, shapes, speeds, but what’s certain is that it’s always flowing forward. To resist is a temporary exercise. Water finds its way. What I have also learned about this river is that although a great distance may exist between points, it can look quite the same. The beginning can resemble the end, the end the beginning. What one experiences now is not the only time the river may break in that direction. It returns to itself. At least I think it might. This is what I mean. In 2015 my Mom decided to move to Spain for a month. She wasn’t feeling particularly happy with her job, or possibly even her life (she never said this explicitly), so in the evenings she would click through Airbnb listings in Barcelona. She would even click the heart buttons, relegating them to her “favorites” so she could go back later, look at the pictures of Spanish rooftops, and for a few moments imagine herself living in a foreign land, and by extension inside a life filled with slightly more adventure. An exercise like this is probably common inside of American homes. Perhaps your mom or dad is doing it right now. And it would have forever remained an exercise if my cousin and I weren’t living with my parents at the time. My cousin was taking nurse anesthetist classes at Penn, so Monday through Friday she would stay with us in the suburbs and commute into the city by train. She slept in my childhood bedroom with a floor to ceiling baseball mural on the wall. With Cait around we would sometimes get into the wine during the week if we were bored. One of these nights we all ended up in my mom’s office, cups in hand, ooh-ing and ah-ing over saved Airbnb pages. There was one we knew was her favorite because she had shown us before, it had the best reviews, and the host spoke English. A few moments later she had her credit card out and was asking us both if she should just do it, to which Cait and I responded with a resounding yes. So she clicked the button and just like that she had a flat for a month in downtown Barcelona. My father wasn’t present for the booking and didn’t find out until several weeks later, and even then not from my mom’s mouth but from a girl I was dating at the time. It’s not that my mom didn’t want him to know, it’s that she had never done something like this before. She was waiting for the appropriate time to break the news. Well, my father didn’t get mad because he is a sweet, sweet man. Instead he decided to support my mom’s leap of faith decision by joining her for a week of the trip. When that happened I decided to join too. How it happened was both my mom and her sister would fly over and stay for a week. This was a big deal for my mom. She had never been outside of the country except for her honeymoon in Mexico and one time to Canada, and those don’t really count. Even though she didn’t admit this to me until her sister had left and she was alone for a week, I knew my mother was scared. Making big changes when you’re older has got to be scary for most people. It’s probably because you’re not as dumb as you were when you were younger and therefore not as invincible. The second week my mother would be alone, and I would fly in for the third week. The fourth and final week my dad would come and we would all be together as a family. When my father arrived she arranged for a car to pick him up at the airport and drop him off in front of the apartment. It was the same driver who dropped her and her sister off on the first day of their trip. There was an elevator in the flat but it was old and small so he carried his luggage up the stairs. When he entered he was out of breath. Rooms are scaled differently in Europe. You can tell if you see it. It’s as if everything was measured with a different ruler, which I guess is true. These optics, coupled with his outfit, a nondescript athletic material shirt from Walmart, a blank hat, cheap sneakers, all made him seem like even more of a gigantic white person than he already was. Like Gandalf inside Bilbo Baggins’s house in The Shire. Sweat poured down his face as he unpacked his bags. When he was finally settled in my mom laid out some olives and cheese and we drank wine and talked about our trips. It was still early and I had a few places I wanted to see downtown. There was a café where Hemingway and other Ex-pats supposedly drank, some church with interesting origins. We decided to part ways. I would head out on my own while they finished unpacking. They would see a few things and we would all meet back at the apartment for a short siesta. So that’s what we did. A friend told me that everyone should travel by themselves at one point in their life, but I forget why he said everyone should do it. I remember the afternoon being extremely quiet in a city full of noise. I talked to no one. Soon enough the voices of the city began to fade. I felt light and detached, like when I would go sit in my car during my break and stare out into the brown grass moving carefully in the wind. After a beer and a long sit in an alley that I could never find again, I headed back to the flat. Honestly, I missed my parents here, even if it had only been a couple of hours. I had reached a period with my parents that would last for a while longer but not forever. Like two planets coming into view every night for a few days across a warm and cloudless August sky. This is a period I hope everyone gets to experience with their parents but I’m afraid too many seldom do. A time where you are no longer too young but they’re not yet too old. When you can drink together, make jokes together. When no one takes themselves too seriously. With this thought I bounded up three flights of stairs, heart fluttering in my chest, full of hope. I flung open the door and when I saw their faces it was this same hope that came crashing down.  

She told me the story backwards, starting with the result: My father had been robbed. It happened right away. The entire afternoon while I was meandering narrow streets buzzed on pinkish wine, they had been dealing with crisis. After he unpacked they left the flat for the subway. They were going to the city center, possibly following the same route I had taken just one hour before. To get there you had to transfer lines at one of the busiest stations in the city. They boarded a car on the yellow line and were followed by a throbbing mass of bodies. Person after person squeezed into the car, bumping them, touching them, limiting the space in which they could not only stand but also even breathe. My mother was wise to the thieves of this city. She had all of her belongings inside of a zipped and clipped handbag lined with mesh steel. She could have used it to block a bullet. She had it tucked up into her armpit. Now, the extreme caution she took on her part she transferred to my father, but the focus fell on his physical well being instead of his belongings. As people smaller than him piled into the car, he stood there swaying like some giant who misplaced his mammoth. He looked at my mother and smiled. Hold on to something, she shouted, just before the train jerked forward. I’m sure she envisioned him toppling over as the car took motion. He was in the middle surrounded by bodies, so he grabbed onto the only thing he could, the ceiling rack above his head. The car rounded a soft curve. Bodies and limbs pressed against him like a lung. The car came to a stop, the doors opened, and the throng of people leaning against him (all small women, incidentally) filed out of the car. The doors closed and the subway continued. My father’s wallet, which had been held in a zipper pocket of his cargo shorts, was gone. He felt its absence as the car left the station. And that was that.   My dad alerted my mom, who stood in shock as the last week of her trip exploded in her mind. They rushed not home but to the Barcelona Crowne Plaza. My dad had memorized its location before stepping foot onto the plane. He was a Holiday Inn rewards member, and inside a network hotel he felt more comfortable, he felt at home. Without acknowledging those working at the reception desk he marched directly to their business center where he used their phone and internet services to cancel his credit cards and place alerts on all of his accounts. He printed out pictures of sensitive documents he had emailed himself before the trip. On his way out he did acknowledge the staff, but only to ask them to call a cab for him and my mother who had been sitting quietly in the lobby, still very much in shock. They bought several bottles of wine next door before both trudging up the steps to the flat to drink and forget. To try their best to, anyway. This is how I found them. As they told me this story emotions grew inside of me. Not sorrow, not fear or panic. What grew was an overwhelming sense of frustration. Not in them, but in myself, at the thought that if I wasn’t off on my own, if I was just with them watching, this could have all been prevented. And as we sat there for a few more hours, as my mom and I poured glass after glass of wine, as dad moved from counter to couch and slowly fell asleep, whatever energy or forces that existed between the three of us changed. What I saw and felt were not two people who for 25 years existed as protectors. What I saw for the first time were vessels of some new responsibility. . . . My father recovered from the robbery and was able to enjoy the rest of the trip. I was extremely proud of him for this, another new emotion. Two days later they were off on their own again. We were to meet in a central plaza at two o’clock. At 10 minutes past they still hadn’t shown up. I began to sweat. I kept looking at my phone even though I had no service. Dreadful scenarios formed in my head. But as my mind raced I saw them turn the corner, smiling and holding hands. I told myself to relax. I told myself that they would be okay and I began to believe it. Would I continue to worry? Of course. But I knew it was an emotion I could learn to accept. On the second to last day of the trip I took the subway to the far north end of the city, the last stop on the purple line, and I went to the beach. I spent the day laying in the sand reading Charles Bukowski stories on my Kindle. A very old couple placed their bags next to mine. The woman put on a white swim cap and they waded into the shallow waves to perform calisthenics. I finished my book and when I looked up again the old man and the old woman were dancing hand in hand along the shore. There was no music, just the roar of the breakers slowly crashing at their feet. I looked at the couple and I thought that to worry was not so bad, because behind that worry were embers of love. As I looked down the beach I saw myself dancing, real slow, very old. And what I felt again was hope. Hope that one day, when my parents are gone, when my aunts and uncles are gone, there may just be some youngster sitting on some faraway beach, listening to the sounds of the same waves, worrying about me too.  

[attract-mode-collective]

Memories Of Mom & Dad Playing Video Games

So no game culture wrap up this week, due to aforementioned on-going health related complications. Nothing serious, though it’s been enough for me to not only miss the majority of Death By Audio Arcade’s latest shindig, Deathmatch By Audio IX (perhaps some of you might recall my mention of XIII), but I also have to sit out on DBAA’s upcoming appearance at the Smithsonian this weekend. And that sucks.

At the very least, I’m able to catch a screening of the one film that truly encapsulates the New York City experience, that being the criminally underrated Bill Murray vehicle Quick Change, with the girlfriend. I should also be able to post something this Sunday, which is somewhat of a special day for Attract Mode, but more on that later.

In the meanwhile, wanted to share something that caught my eye on Reddit, the image above obviously. Not surprisingly, what results are various folks sharing their own fond memories, of mom or dad playing video games. Here are the stand outs…

“In 1989 my parents got divorced. I was 6. My dad went to go stay with a friend who had a kid my age, and we went there on nights we visited him.

One night I was sleeping in my friends room, my dad woke me in the middle of the night and brought me downstairs.

He and his buddy had been stuck on World 2-1 in Super Mario Bros for an hour, and had eventually got so frustrated that waking the kids seemed like the appropriate course of action

I cleared the level for him and went back to bed.”

-

“I was about 6 or 7, my step-dad had rented SMB2 for me. He eventually pried me away and sent us to bed that evening. When I woke up the next day, I found my 4yr old sister playing, and she was in a level I'd never seen before. Next thing I know, she was battling Wart. I knew this thanks to Nintendo Power. I watched in complete amazement as she battled him, but then I realized her movements weren't quite syncing up with what I was seeing on screen.

That's when I realized I'd been had. My step dad had stayed up until 5am beating the game and recording it on VHS - then set my sister up for the ultimate prank. He really had me going for awhile.

Another time he found a clipart collection of popular commercial logos and started sending out letters on official looking letterhead. He sent his cousin one from Coors about getting to attend the SuperBowl, and sent me one from Nintendo saying I'd been selected to beta test their upcoming 32-bit system. It had a secret code I was supposed to use when I called the number on the paper. I ended up calling a vitamin company and repeating my passphrase to one very confused customer service rep.”

-

“I remember my mother waking me on a school night at 2am to watch her kill Chaos in FF. That was pretty cool.”

-

“Dad bought a Gameboy in the early 90s for my brother and I to keep us quiet on road trips (it didn't work cos he only bought one...) And my mom got hooked on Tetris. Most of the accessories we got were bought by mom. Battery pack..a bigger battery pack. The light. The magnifier. All of it so she could keep playing Tetris.

Little while later we got Dr Mario for NES and mom got hooked on that too. I still remember the last time my mom ever played a video game. It was 7am on a Wednesday morning. I walked into the den and there she was sitting on the floor, playing Dr Mario.

‘Mom where's breakfast’

‘What're you doing up? What time is it!? Oh my god!’

She'd played Dr Mario for the entire night. She called in sick to work so she could sleep, and traded the game in for credit at a local game store the next day. Never touched Tetris again either.”

-

“I remember one of the first games I got for N64 was Star Wars: Shadow of the Empire. Sometimes when I'd get stuck on a level I'd ask my dad to beat it for me. I don't think he really liked video games or anything - I'm sure he'd much rather have played catch or something outside - but he'd play for hours to beat those levels for me because he wanted to spend time with me and my brothers, and that's what we wanted to do. It's one of the fondest memories I have of him. Anyway, at some point I asked him to beat the sewer level for me, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take down that tentacle boss. Then one day I managed to do it for myself. After that I knew what I had to do. I killed him and took his place as ruler of the family. Old man shouldn't have shown weakness.”

Now, this isn’t the first time that such imagery has been shared in such a forum, far from it. And still to this day, my absolute favorite example (as evidenced by the fact that I’ve written about it multiple times, for multiple places, so it’s finally Attract Mode’s turn) remains the time some dude came home to discover his mom drunk and playing Link To The Past, around 2 in the morning. Which he also had to take a picture of and share on the internet. Naturally…

And here we have my favorite responses from that, the ones that are not quite so vulgar…

“I’m just going to say it, I’d bang your mom.”

“I played A Link to the Past with my mom when I was a kid. I used to come home from school and she would tell me about all the progress she made while I was gone. >:c”

“Sweet CRT man.”

“my mom was playing Ducktales when I was conceived.”

“HEY OP THANKS FOR TAKING A SEXUAL PUIC OF YOUR MOM. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK EVERYONE WHO USES THIS SITE”

“Dude, clean your house.”

“Marry her”

“Seriously, Plasma and LCD prices are so cheap now. Buy a new tv, there is no excuse. A buddy and his wife had that exact tv until may this year. I got so sick of watching hockey on it at their place I went to best buy and dropped 800 on a new 50 inch plasma for them just so we could have a proper hockey party. Really people the 90′s are over it’s time to ditch the crt.”

“COMMENTS SUMMARY: EVERYONE WANTS TO FUCK YOUR MOM.”

Oh, so back to the original subject, that being folks sharing stories about a parent playing a Game Boy… I’ve got one of my own.

It was Christmas time, 1996. Up till that point, I was a freshman in art school, in New York City, my first significant chunk of time away from home. But instead of flying back to Washington State, to spend the holidays with my parents, I instead went down south to Louisiana. You see, there was this girl from high school that I was friends with, and we were just friends… until I began to develop feelings during our long phone conversations, which sprung from both of us being homesick in college (she was attending some major school in the midwest).

So the plan was for me to spend time with her, at her parents, who had just relocated down south (since it was a military household, they were reassigned). I came up with a bullshit cover story to my dad, about how I got a gig on a Rugrats motion picture, hence why I was staying put in NYC (it’s worth noting that my first legit job in school was being a telephone psychic and I accidentally predicted The Rugrats Movie years before it actually happened, yes sayin’). I had assumed that my holidays would be spent a close friend from back home, who wasn’t my girlfriend, but would become one.

Well, that didn’t quite happen. I would discover in the most awkward way possible that she didn’t feel that way about me, and early on into my two week stay. So to pass the time, I ended up just playing Game Boy… as in, I played with her dad’s Game Boy. And quite a bit. Tetris was the game, which her dad was obsessed with it. Him and I would pass it back and forth, to top each other’s high scores. The old man basically felt sorry for me;  he knew why I was there, i.e. to have sex with his daughter, but because I was so clearly crestfallen from being rejected, he tried his best to keep me distracted.

Though it’s a safe bet that he would have figured out other ways to keep me occupied if his daughter was indeed into me. Though in the end, I’m happy to say that my Game Boy Tetris skills are so good that it’s enough to beat a legit 4 star general in the United States Army.

Don’t forget: Attract Mode is now on Medium! There you can subscribe to keep up to date, as well as enjoy some “best of” content you might have missed the first time around, plus be spared of the technical issues that’s starting to overtake Tumblr.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Hola, hablas espanol? Muy poco.  Music is playing right now, isn’t it? What song? Nope, you’re wrong try again next time. Do you use AIM? What’s your screen name? AIM died years ago, like it literally doesn’t exist anymore. I haven’t even used it since like 2009. I don’t even remember my screen name.  How many cell phones have you gone through in your life? Like 6 or 7. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? No.

Who was the last person you screamed at? Why were you screaming? I don’t scream at people. Can you crack your joints? Which ones? My knuckles.  What’s your favorite name for a guy? And a girl? Alexander. Scarlett or Autumn.  Are you good at answering trick questions? Uhh sometimes. Do you use Myspace or Facebook? Or both? Facebook. Myspace is also dead, even though I think the website still exists.  Do you need spellcheck in order to spell things correctly? No. If I’m unsure about a word I just Google it. Do you do too many surveys? How many have you done today? What would be too many?  Have you ever changed yourself to impress someone? Who? I tried to.  Who was the last person you gave up on? Why did you give up on them? Myself. What was the last thing you printed? Is there even ink in your printer? I don’t remember. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to print something. What’s your favorite number? Is there any reason that’s your favorite? 8. As a kid I used to play this Schoolhouse Rock game and watch the VHS tapes and there was a song about the number 8 that had this little girl figure skating and making the number 8 over and over. At the end she says how if you flip it on its side it’s the infinity symbol and I thought that was cool. The song was catchy and I just loved the video that went along with it. I also thought it was fun to make an 8. From then on it became my favorite number. *shrug*

Side note, those Schoolhouse Rock songs/videos were so helpful. They had catchy songs for various subjects. They really helped me with my multiplication as a kid. What kind of shampoo do you use? Does it smell amazing? It’s some salon style one for red dyed hair. Do you go to concerts? What was the last one you attended? I do, but it’s been 10 years now since I’ve been to one. I like to go to them, though. I’m actually trying to convince my mom to go with me to see the Jonas Brothers this year. lol. I was obsessed with them when I was 16. They broke up for a few years, but they’re back together now, so it would be cool to see them again. I’m turning 30 this year and have just been feeling extra nostalgic.  Have you ever had a conversation with someone through bulletins? That’s a Myspace thing, right? I think I’ve done that. Do you shop online? With your own credit card, or someone else’s? Yeah, quite often.  Who’s your best friend? How long have you known each other? My mom. I’ve known her all 29 years of my life and counting.  Who was your first boyfriend/girlfriend? Why did you break up? Derek. I was 16 and thought I was ready/wanted a relationship and I did like him, but I realized I wasn’t ready and he was moving too fast for me. It just wasn’t working for me and I felt we were better as friends. Have you ever gotten your nails done? Or do you get them done regularly? I got them done one time and that was for my 8th grade promotion, so it’s been quite awhile. Have you been outside yet today? What were you doing? Nope. I’m not going anywhere today. Tell me about the last thing that made you laugh until it hurt. I don’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard. When was the last time you got a new bed? Is your bed comfy? Like almost 10 years ago. What kind of games did you play on the playground when you were younger? Just hanging out with my friends. I don’t recall really playing anything. Well, I did sometimes play 4-square. Have you ever buried a time capsule with a friend? Did you dig it up yet? Yes, I remember doing that in like 6th grade. No, we never dug it up. Never will.  Tell me one thing you’d like to change in 2010. There’s gotta be something. It’s 2019 now, keep up. Do you have or want any tattoos? Of what? I’ve wanted to get free bird on my inner wrist for years now, but I’m too big of a baby. Do you remember the first time you ever drove a car? Who were you with? I never have. Do any of your friends drink excess amounts of alcohol? Do you? No. What color is your favorite hoodie? When did you get it? Black. How many pairs of shoes do you have? Are they under your bed? Like 5 or 6. No, they’re in my closet. What exactly is under your bed? Is it a mess? Some medical related supplies.  Have you ever been in handcuffs? Why, exactly? No. What’s your favorite thing to do when drunk? Would you do this sober? I don’t drink anymore. When was the last time you bled? What happened? Stupid hang nail. I always have that problem because I’m always picking at my nails and the skin around them. Have you ever had to be put to sleep at a hospital? Why? Yeah, for surgeries.  Do you actually have a calendar on your wall? What are the pictures of? I do, but it’s last year’s calendar so I don’t use it. It’s an Alexander Skarsgard one and I  just keep up one of my favorite photos from it. When are you planning on moving out of your parents’ house? No idea. I have no plans to for the foreseeable future.  Tell me about your day today. :) Just a typical day in my life. Are you a fan of dogs? Do you have any pets? I love dogs. I have a 2 year old German Shepherd/Lab mix doggo named Princess Leia. (: Who was the last person in your family to graduate high school? Was it you? In my immediate family it was my younger brother. Have you ever been on a cruise? How many? Where did they go? Nope.

[alonelyintrovertwriter]

The Last Bully I Had as a Kid.

Growing up as a shy, quiet kid in West Auckland, I was an easy target for bullies. Many of the kids that abused me over my childhood years have disappeared into the past, well and truly forgotten. Only a few stand out enough for me to remember their names and what happened, and I want to tell you the tale of my last one.

I was Year 8 (or form 2 for the oldies) so I was just brushing on the cusp of my adolescence at this point. I was going to Swanson Primary school at the time, they included the intermediate years at this primary. I’d already had a few incidents with bullies by this point, after attending this school only a year and a half I was still considered the “New Kid” and thus fresh game for these bullies. I didn’t enjoy confrontation either and had become known for not fighting back.

This particular event happened near to the end of the year, a week or two before leaving for high school. This kid (we’ll call him James) who’d been giving me and others grief all year had turned his crosshairs on me again. This was due to a small scuffle that I had been involved in earlier that day. I had intervened in a fight during recess and pulled someone off a friend. James had taken this as an entry point to starting shit with me.

It was 3:00pm on a Friday afternoon and I still remember how sunny it was. I was leaving out the front gate to get picked up by my parents. They usually waited across the road and down a side-street so I’d usually cross at the school zebra crossing.

Now I’m not sure how other schools in other countries do this but in NZ for these crossings closest to primary schools they would have these portable STOP signs you could attach to poles on either side of the road, these could then swing out to cover a lane when there’s less traffic. Two assigned students working this duty would swing out these signs across the road in order to provide an extra safe path for the younger children crossing the street. Usually a teacher would be on duty standing around and making sure the sign-pushers were safe to swing out. The teacher today happened to be my teacher for this year, we’ll call him Mr. Pink.

So as I left the front gate heading towards the zebra crossing I heard James say something from behind me. Something along the lines of “I heard you pushed (whoever it was) over…?”.

Now James wasn’t even friends with that guy, he was just trying to find a way to Segway things towards his own motive.

I responded in my usual shy fashion, a non-committal shrug and a grunt and an increasing in pace in the opposite direction

See by this point I had already felt James’ fury. During the year he had continually focused his malice on me. One time it took the form of him throwing a basketball at the back of my head during one recess for fun. Just because I didn’t respond or pick a fight with him he continued to do so right in front of teachers and other students who all just ignored it as was usual. But I knew what was coming next was not good.

James grabbed and spun me around a couple meters from the zebra crossing and my eyes met his. He was a big kid with a real mean streak, and being a small skinny kid it made him seem double my height and twice as terrifying.

He grabbed my uniform shirt collar and lifted so that I was stretching on the tips of my toes while I stared into the cruel amusement in his eyes.

I don’t remember what he said but it didn’t matter. All words became meaningless when the weak are in the shadow of the strong at play.

He lifted me higher and started to threaten me, quietly because we were within earshot of Mr Pink. He was standing on the near side watching the crossing and seeming oblivious to what was unfolding to his left.

I’ll never forget the terror I felt. This guy had me held by the throat just like in those movies and TV shows, and when I looked around every damn person child and adult alike avoided any contact with us like the plague.

When the increased height and threats didn’t achieve the results James was looking for, he slapped me open-palm on the right side of my face.

It hurt like blazes and It was all I could do not to cry out, but I looked this bully in the eyes and turned the other cheek, which only made him “even things out” so-to-speak.

After doing this James released me and left, satisfied. I’m fully crying at this point, in pain on both sides of my face and wanting nothing more than to go home. I cross the crossing, still completely ignored by Mr Pink, who I still think to this day saw what happened but decided to act like he didn’t.

By this point my parents were already waiting down the side-street in the car, and my mum noticed immediately that something was wrong. My face was red and swollen. I was near hysterical.

I don’t remember my parents going to see the teachers or principal but sure enough, James got suspended with about 2 weeks until the end of the year.

Now most students wouldn’t mind an extra 2 weeks holiday, but this guy didn’t see it like that. He saw that this little kid who wouldn’t fight got him expelled and I knew he wanted retribution for this imagined insult.

Jump ahead 2 weeks to the last day of the year. For the average student, it was a time to relax and play games with classmates and just generally muck around. Everything had finished up and once the desks and chairs had been stacked we were allowed to do what we want, whether that was watch a movie on the VHS-TV-combo or go out and play sports, while hopped up on cheap soda and candy.

For me, however. I was a nervous wreck. Friends of James who were still at this school told me he was planning to “meet” me out the front of school at the end of the last day, with friends.

Now, these “friends” of his were his older brother and his friends, ranging in age from about 16 to 23 and they were here to beat the shit out of a little 13 year old boy who probably couldn’t take on more than 1 anyway.

As the day got on, I was literally a mess. I was ready to just meet my fate and face this older group but one of my friends stopped me. He was genuinely worried and said I’d probably get killed and with help from a teacher or two eventually forced me go to the front office. I called my parents and filled them in on what was happening, then asked if dad could come in and get me.

I’m ashamed to admit to this, but as a 13 year old introverted boy growing up in a house outnumbered by females, I wasn’t very strong willed nor did I enjoy confrontation. I was fearing for my life because I didn’t think these older kids would have held back, they weren’t known to do so. Needless to say, mum sent my dad to come get me.

My dad is one of those kinds of guys that looks very intimidating at first with his long hair and beard, but is really a huge teddy bear with incredible wit and a boisterous laugh. With this situation though, he decided to play this first impression to his advantage.

He showed up in classic westie fashion. Cargo pants and a Waikato Draught t-shirt and dark aviators to top it off. He walked into the front office to pick me up, huge cheeky grin on his face. Keeping me close, we walked straight past James and his friends. I couldn’t help but smirk at them as we went past because my dad scared the shit out of them, they weren’t gonna pick a fight with this Westie-Biker-Bearded-Man. We barely made it to the car before roaring with laughter, dad put some Suicidal Tendencies on full blast as we backed out and drove home. Good memories.

I’m not happy with how I dealt with this myself, and it forced me to look inwardly about who I wanted to be. James was my last bully during my school life, because I remade myself during high school. I took a leaf from my old-man’s book. I’ve become that good dude that tries to get along with everyone, loves to joke and make people laugh but when push comes to shove I stand up to the shit people and protect my family and friends with everything I’ve got.

I never heard from James again, but this wasn’t what I took away from the whole thing anyway. This event solidified my love for my Dad and I strive to be more like him every day. I owe him everything.