'Tis the month of Halloween, hallowe'en, hallows eve....so, let's talk costumes!
Growing up, I was usually a tiger. Obvs.
But since ca. 1999, I've kind of skipped the costuming. Halloween is fun enough on its own, the almond joys (step off, kitkat), the wine, the PS3 demos. Plus, it's hard when you have big dreams of being Mulan but you can't find a stupid wig that fits or an authentic Chinese Jian (the General of all Swords) without entering the top 50 on the CIA's "Strange Persons of Note" list.
But this year...it's year of the Tiger. Metal Tiger actually. So I'm thinking about bringing the old throw to costume back. . . FutureTiger style!
And don't worry, Reeses, I am not afraid of the dark this year! Well as long as I have my FutureTiger laser bow & arrow. fshwing,fshwing!
(I'm the one on the left)
This year, it's going to be my best costume yet. Unless I forget.
Why when people ask you what kind of music you like, do you scramble to think of the most obscure band you can think of and probably classical, rather than the Celine Dion album that's been on repeat in your car since 2004? Confession...? Anyone?
I don’t want to say I’m the new Oprah or anything, but I have favorite things.
And a best friend named Gail.
Okay, I don’t have a best friend named Gail, but there was a girl named Gail with severe behavioral issues who lived across the street from me in her parents’ mansion. Her mom played for the Portuguese women’s Olympic soft ball team. Her dad’s family were brain surgeons. Gail is now a debutate slash hipster at some “liberal” ivy league. She’s basically a gossip girl character. But she’s not my best friend. Sadly.
I do have favorite things though. One of them is oranges. I have this orange peel TOOL that is like, the greatest invention since the cake wheel (just let that marinate…great invention, right?) because I can peel an orange in under two minutes without becoming covered in sticky juice rubbish. Also, the pips don’t fly all over the everywhere, which is nice. Pips are seeds. I like British TV, sue me.
That’s another one of my favorite things; British TV. Not all of it, but the older stuff like from the mid-80s to mid-90s. The Vicar of Dilbey and Black Adder. Absolutely brilliant – I wish they were my parents. Well Dawn French, anyway. Rowan Atkinson would never let me get away with staying out past curfew.
My third favorite thing is self-help (I know what you’re thinking. To answer your question, of course I include Robert E. Howard into this category. Doy). Reading is fun. Reading to learn is even funner, i.e. Learn Condescending Phrases in Ancient Greek.
But reading so you can develop new powers of communication and unlimited comprehension of your own mind (how meta is that?!) is like enjoying a cake wheel while shopping for British Knights.
Second of all – well, let me preface this by saying that I was always the first kid at school to say “Tyrannosaurs Rex” as my choice for favorite pet, but seriously you guys, we are so freaking lucky that we don’t have dinosaurs roaming the streets. Dinotopia? More like Dino-we’re all dead so there’s no language to even reference Utopian civilization or books about said civilization so just-Rarr.
I do want to say that if given the chance ever to go into a Jurassic Park type scenario, I would be the first one on the chopper. Mostly because I fully trust my nunjutsu skills like I trust my grandmother. But let’s evaluate some of the key terror factors that make it such a frightening prospect to have to deal with dinosaurs in every day life.
1). Teeth. All right, my teeth stay in my mouth where they are intended to be of use. There is not a lot my teeth can do outside of my mouth. Most carnivorous dinosaurs have teeth that not only reside mostly outside of their lips, but they also inflict the most damage while attending to things that are not yet in their mouths. Terror. Also, how are they going to drink out of a Starbucks cup? That lid is getting torn to shreds and probably not enhancing the flavor of your macchiato.
2). Foot size. I think we can all agree Manut Bol and Shaq have about the biggest feet we ever hope to see. Their foot size is impressive and maybe a little intimidating (I think I can fit my arm up to the elbow into one of Shaq’s Keds) but certainly not life threatening. Now imagine a brachiosaurus. Not only could I fit one of my arms into one of his shoes, I could fit all of me (starring Lily Tomlin) and several of my friends and our deluxe Jacuzzi tub into one of his shoes. And still have room for a wet bar. And a penguin. So…I don’t exactly thing it’s going to be easy for Mr. Brachiosaurus Kahn (sounds like a basketball player’s name, right?) to daintily step around the millions of cars, pedestrians, dog parks and macchiatos we humans have planted all over the everywhere. Things are just going to get smashed. Not just smashed. Smooshed. Shmooshed. Including the penguin and the Jacuzzi and frankly I don’t want to be around to see it.
3). Brain size. If your brain is not at least the size of your own big toe…chances are reason, logic and compassion are not at the forefront of your priorities. If you’re hungry/sad/need a diaper change/have a thorn in your rear, you’re going to maim or disfigure things until your needs are met. Horribly, horribly met. I speak from experience, dude.
4). According to Jurassic Park 3 (I know) velociraptors are smarter than dolphins.
Just let that sink in.
Now, I know what you’re saying. “But raptors were actually only about the size of a golden retriever, not the basketball player sized monsters depicted in the films.”
Well no doy, smartmouth. But just imagine if you were to encounter something the size of a Rottweiler (already scary) with bigger teeth, fingers and a tail strong enough to swat a miniature horse across the room.
Add to that the intelligence and problem-solving abilities of man’s best friend (dolphins). You’re not getting out of that tangle alive, wise guy. There were tons of different dinosaur types…somewhere along the way a raptor with dolphinesque intelligence could have been born. Maybe he was raised by sharks!
Most dolphins are 6 to 74 times smarter than humans (actual fact). That tiny velociraptor, while it won’t leap on top of your chest and rip out your throat, will subtly kill you from the inside using something like your bad credit history or your difficult relationship with your dad.
There are times in one's life where the meaning is blurry. Where the point of the whole darn thing seems to have waned and an eternal night has descended upon your very being.
Then, you have a moment of clarity, usually brought about by the state of building-jumping depression, and remember who you truly are. Who the little heart of gold hero who lives within your soul really is -- and what he can really do...not just for you, but for the world. And for me, it's this dandy gentleman.
Basically, my inner hero is a ball of pink sugar, a jazzy hepcat with a Liberace streak. A man who lives life hard and fast with his brilliant band of junkie musicians. A man who will be the first to call himself "cool as a cucumber" while obviously being wonked out of his brain on gin during a performance for children that frankly wreaks of wanton sexuality.
Amen.
UPDATE: Sadly, youtube has disabled embedding on the video, but here is the link. Cotton Candy Culprit
It occurs to me that selling things is difficult. A friend was offered the chance to sell tickets for something and upon further mulling, I realized you could probably rake in lots of skrill (see: Cheese, Cream).
However, fat skrill-wad-making is usually contingent upon ones ability to actually sell what they are selling efficiently. And I would just suck at that. Let me break it down for you.
Some people have the gift of Sell. They can completely not care about the ability, the quality, the point of their product and still make it sound like a magic ice cream cone tree.
Me...not so much. If I know this seed will not an ice cream cone tree make, I can't sell it. Here's an impression.
Ding Dong Kindly Citizen: Oh, good morning. Can I help you?
Me: Good morning! Let me ask you a question that I can probably guess the answer to...Are you interested in seeds?
KC: What?
Me: Seeds! And ice cream, too? Wait, I shouldn't tell you that part yet. Let's start over. brief moment of silence as i compose myself mentally Good morning! I have seeds for you!
DOOR CLOSING.
That's just a worst-case scenario for something that i'm not sold on myself. However, if I do believe in the product, well you better believe the gift of Sell is suddenly alive in me as some enzymes after I drink a little watermelon lemonade (trademark: King of Drinks).
Here are a few things I think I could sell the crap out of and make you and your company a fat wad of skrill.
1). John Williams. And I'm not talking about the spanish guitar stylings of some dude with extra long strummin' nails. I'm talking about the man who has provided sound to color our imaginations since the 1960s, and specifically who gave Steven Spielberg that extra goodness that has made him an icon.
Sells itself.
2). Pumpkin lattes. Not only do they scream deliciousness of fall. They also are hot as lava and can be used as a weapon against hobos trying to rob you for change (which you don't have anyway, because you just generously tipped the barista). I love pumpkin lattes (after they're cooled down enough to drink of course. those tongue burns last for a week!) so much, I'm not even going to pick a company here to court me into becoming their spokeswoman. I'm just going to show ALL of them right here and now how they could make millions this season from this drink alone and then may the highest bidder win.
