Search This Blog

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Thursday Night at the Arcade: Maniac Mansion


Once upon a time in 1987, a little company known as Lucasfilm Games released a video game called 'Maniac Mansion'.  It proved to be a huge hit, and was released on quite a few different video game consoles.  For the sake of argument, I will talk about the Nintendo version, but really, there were hardly any differences between the Nintendo version and the Commodore 64 and Apple II versions.

(Well, okay...some copies of the Nintendo version wouldn't let you microwave Weird Ed's hamster...but that was probably a good thing, because what vile horrible person would microwave a rodent?)

(Wait...WHY are you staring at me?  I'm innocent!)

Okay, so the basic plot of the video game is almost similar to one of those B-rated horror/science-fiction films that would often air at 1:37 in the morning.  Evil mad scientist kidnaps young cheerleader and decides that he wants to drain her brain for some experiment he is performing.

The cheerleader's name is Sandy, by the way.

As Sandy's boyfriend Dave, it is our job to break into the mansion, save Sandy and live happily ever after at the next high school pep rally.


The trip will not be easy going.  For starters, Dr. Fred Edison isn't the main antagonist here.  You also have to get past the equally nutty Nurse Edna, who may or may not be Dr. Fred's wife.  I'm not exactly sure, as my memory of playing the game left the answer to that question a bit muddled.  Dr. Fred somehow ended up with a son, Weird Ed.  Let's just say that Ed lived up to his name.

Oh, and then there was Cousin Ted, who lived in the bathtub wrapped up in gauze.  He didn't speak much.

Yet, the two octopus tentacles (one in green, the other in purple) could talk.  One could even sing!  And if you fed him fruity stuff, he'd be the Nicole Richie to your Paris Hilton.

Have I completely lost you yet?

Okay, so if you can get through that contrived plotline, I'll talk about Dave's friends.  There's six of them that tag along, and of the six, you can play with two of them along with Dave.



Okay...in order of the friends, there's Dave, Razor, Bernard, Sid, Wendy, Jeff, and Michael. 

The reason I want to talk about Dave's friends is because I share good qualities with quite a few of them.

(Well, okay...not Jeff.  All Jeff can do is fix the telephone in the library, and well...you don't want me anywhere near a phone hook-up.)

It is true though that I can see myself in most of these characters.

Take, oh, let's say, Michael for instance.  While I may not be able to develop film, I do like photography, and Michael definitely was a master at it.  Oddly enough, his soundtrack in the game kind of sounded like a retro 80's Michael Jackson song...wonder if there was inspiration there?

Bernard was a total nerd of a character.  At first, when playing the game, I rarely used him.  He was awkward, I always managed to get him caught by Nurse Edna, and whenever he ran into one of the tentacles, he would run away in fear, leaving me stuck.  However, if you could somehow get Bernard to face his fear (or avoid it by letting someone else meet the tentacles instead), Bernard could fix phones, radios, even call intergalactic policemen.  I guess in many ways, I could be kind of the physical version of Bernard, right down to the dark hair and glasses.  I guess in many ways, I too am fearful of certain things (not tentacles, but other stuff), and I guess in reality, I'm going to have to overcome my fears to get to whatever I am meant to do.

Razor and Sid were interesting characters in the sense that both of them did the same thing.  Razor and Sid were musicians, and if you brought them with you, you could get the Green Tentacle on your side by helping him win a recording contract using a cassette tape, a pre-recorded record, and an envelope and stamps (which might I add were some of the most frustrating items to find in the whole game?  Seriously, the only way you could get the stamps was by waiting by a mailbox to get a package before Weird Ed did, with a doorbell being your only warning.  It was doable, but you really had to plan ahead).

So anyway, Razor and Sid used their creative genius to get through their biggest hurdle, and it ended up being a big success.  Though, you have to make sure that the recording contract goes to the Green Tentacle, and not Razor or Sid themselves...because then you die.

Seriously, somehow the Green Tentacle kills you off.  Don't ask me why, but it does.

There's another character that uses their skills to get through the game, and it's also a character that I strongly identify with.

Most people when they played Maniac Mansion avoided Wendy the same way people with nut allergies avoided peanut butter.  Not I though.  Any time I played Maniac Mansion, Wendy was usually always the first kid I chose.  Why?  Because Wendy loved to write.

As you know by now, I love to write too.

More importantly than that, Wendy loved to edit other people's work.  Somewhere in the game, you find a manuscript written by a meteor (I can't believe I even typed this sentence out, but if you've played the game, you'll know that the meteor is the REAL antagonist, and not Dr. Fred).  Anyway, apparently space rocks do not have a great grasp of grammar and basic spelling skills (gee, you think?) and you have the option of having Wendy fix up the manuscript for the meteor.  If you do, and mail it away, the meteor will get famous and stop terrorizing the mansion.  He/She/It'll even release Dr. Fred from the meteor's control, and you can rescue Sandy!

I told you it was a weird game.

But hey, at least Wendy used her skills for something good.  That's where Wendy and I are similar.  I can't begin to tell you how many homework assignments I've edited for classmates.  Or how many words I helped people spell in their journals.

And unfortunately for both Wendy and I, we didn't really get credited for our contribution.  The meteor (and my classmates) took all the glory, while we were left in the cold.

(Maybe I should've fed the meteor to the pirahna plant inside the typewriter room instead...)

I did manage to come up with a rather unusual blog entry on one of my favourite video games, and managed to tie it to my own experience somewhat.  I'll admit I was kind of struggling for a topic for this entry, but I think I made it work.

I mean, if the game inspired (but never had any similarity to the video game whatsoever) a TV sitcom, it couldn't have been all that bad.


Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Across the Pond and Beyond: Little Mo Mitchell from EastEnders

WORD OF WARNING:  This blog entry is going to contain some video clips that may not be suitable for young ones to view.  They can be quite graphic and disturbing to watch.  You have been warned.

You see, part of the reason why I've grown to love international television so much is because they have more of a tendency to tackle controversial subject matter.  Whereas most American television shows shy away from controversy, shows from Britain, Australia, and even Canada have been more daring with the topics they cover on their programming.

Homosexuality.  HIV and AIDS.  Euthanasia.  These are controversial topics that have been broadcast on various programs across the pond.  And many of these plots have been written in such a way that really inspires emotional reaction.  Emotional reactions so strong that your heart breaks for the poor characters that have to go through that.

There's one show that I've discovered that had tackled all three of the subjects that I discussed above and more.  I suppose you'd like to know what show it is, don't you?


EastEnders.  Shocking people to the core since February 19, 1985.

EastEnders has garnered a bit of a reputation in its twenty-six year history.  As I said up above, they tackle a lot of controversial subject matter.  They diagnosed a character with HIV, and he was subjected to a hate-filled campaign by the owner of the local pub, claiming he was 'diseased'.  Very controversial, but at the same time it educated people that HIV was nothing to be afraid of.

They showed a longtime character agree to help her long suffering friend die.  At the time, euthanasia was a really touchy subject to tackle, but I thought the show handled it well.

And although we're years behind the UK schedule here in Canada, I hear that there's a very popular couple who happens to be the same sex, so it's nice to see that some international shows aren't afraid to showcase a gay relationship, even if it is still considered taboo here in North America.

I think I started watching EastEnders on PBS about six years ago.  So, that would be back around 2005.  The catch is that PBS is about seven years behind UK pace, so when I was watching in 2005, the episodes were actually from 1998.  I think the ones that are currently airing are from Christmas 2003...so we're way behind.  Oddly enough, there's another station that also airs EastEnders from 2008 and onwards.

So, before I go on with this note, I should mention that I have only seen EastEnders up until December 2008 episodes, and have not seen any episode that aired between 2004 and 2007.  This will make my character spotlight seem a little bit skewered, as she happened to leave the show in the period that I have never seen yet.  But, it's just as well...her character was very big the first couple of years she was on the show anyway.

 But, enough babbling.  I'll introduce you to her right now.


Say hello to Maureen Slater-Mitchell.  Though, on the show, she was (affectionately?) referred to as 'Little Mo'.  You see, she was named after her maternal grandmother, who was also named Maureen, but went by the name 'Mo'.  So, that's how she came to be called Little Mo.

Two words can describe Little Mo.  Tragic heroine.

On the surface, it seemed like Little Mo had it all.  A home.  A husband.  A family who loved her.

Underneath that facade were many, many, skeletons.  Skeletons that caused Little Mo lots of stress and pain.



You see the above family portrait?  Well, it's Little Mo and her 'sisters'.  There's Little Mo in the pink.  Next to her is Kat.  Zoe happens to be right next to Kat, and at the end is eldest sister, Lynne.

But why is the word 'sister' in quotation marks?  Well...there was a little twist to this family tree.  It's like that Sesame Street song.



Yes...one of the Slater sisters was more like a Slater...daughter.  Apparently Kat got pregnant when she was thirteen and gave birth to Zoe.  The whole thing was a disaster when the secret was revealled, and it's such a huge story in itself that I'd need a separate blog entry for it.  The point is that Zoe had absolutely no idea that Kat was her mother...and neither did Little Mo.  If I remember correctly, Little Mo was absolutely hurt and furious that everyone in the family had kept it a secret from her, and she felt as if nobody took her seriously.

Of course, she didn't realize that at the time of Zoe's birth, Little Mo was only seven, and couldn't possibly understand what was happening.  It didn't matter though...she felt very hurt that her family didn't tell her.

I can relate to Little Mo in this case, because as the youngest child in my family, I sometimes felt as though I was left out of family discussions because of my age, and it really bothered me at the time.  There were instances in which I felt like maybe I wasn't a part of the family because everyone else in my immediate family was so much older than I was, and didn't know how I could make my voice heard.  It was a frustrating period in my life, but nothing I couldn't handle.

Eventually, Little Mo got over it too, which was a good thing.  For, her biggest challenge was yet to come.

As mentioned before, EastEnders is a show that tackles a lot of controversial subject matter.  And Little Mo probably had one of the more controversial storylines that ever took place on the show.

Little Mo was a victim of domestic violence.

It was odd at first because when Little Mo debuted with the rest of the Slater family in September 2000, she couldn't stop gushing over how much she loved her husband Trevor.  You could tell in her eyes that she had nothing but love for this man, even though we never saw him on screen.

But then Christmas came, and Little Mo's eyes revealled a different feeling.  Fear.


This was just the beginning of a nearly two year long storyline.  (And, people thought American soap operas dragged on and on)

This storyline had all sorts of twists and turns to it.  Little Mo tried to leave Trevor, but Trevor came back and begged her to take him back.  Then she would go back to him, he'd hit her again, and she'd leave.  It was a very vicious cycle.  A cycle that Little Mo desperately wanted to break, but Trevor kept breaking her down over and over again.

It wasn't until she met Billy Mitchell that things started to go for the better for her.  She and Billy became firm friends, and soon Billy found himself falling for Little Mo.  Little Mo really started to like Billy too, but her fear of Trevor really prevented her from leaving him.

As fate had it, Billy had discovered that Trevor was cheating on Little Mo with another woman and had gotten her pregnant.  Little Mo refused to believe Billy at first, but she soon found that Billy was telling the truth.  And with Billy and the rest of her family behind her, Little Mo started to find her backbone.


I tell you, I was cheering right along with Little Mo when she did that.  In that split second, she told Trevor that she wasn't going to take him using her anymore. 

Unfortunately it didn't last.  Shortly after that, the news about Zoe and Kat came out, and as a result of it, Zoe ran away from home.  Zoe had managed to get in contact with Little Mo when she found herself in a sticky situation, but devious Trevor deleted the message, and Kat and the rest of the Slaters turned against her as a result of it.  But Little Mo was conflicted.  She really wanted Zoe to come home, and actually went to visit Zoe begging her to return, but at the same time, she knew that Trevor didn't like it.  In actuality, Kat and Zoe's secret was revealled BY Trevor as an attempt to blackmail Little Mo into coming back to him.

That's how sick Trevor was.

Things got worse as Christmas approached.  Not so much for Kat and Zoe.  They ended up reuniting with each other, and Little Mo had decided to pop over to the Slater house to celebrate Zoe's homecoming and Christmas at the same time.  As it happened, Little Mo lost track of time and forgot that she had promised to be with Trevor for Christmas dinner.

The below scene you're about to see is incredibly disturbing to watch, but in order to say what I want to say about this blog entry, it's one that I feel that I have to show, or else you won't know exactly what Little Mo was up against.


Christmas 2001 wasn't a very happy one for Little Mo.  She was abused by Trevor to the point where at one point he actually raped her.  To make matters worse, Zoe developed a case of pneumonia from being on the run, and Kat squarely blamed Little Mo because had it not been for Trevor erasing the message, they could have found her before she got sick.

Little Mo was really starting to lose it.  She was at the point where she was so sick and tired of taking abuse from all sides.  She just wanted to put an end to it.  On New Years Eve, Little Mo and Trevor got into yet another argument, and Trevor was getting ready to attack Little Mo physically once again.  This time, Little Mo fought back.


She grabbed a nearby iron from the kitchen and smashed Trevor's head with it a couple of times, knocking him out cold.  Upon first glance, Little Mo believed that she had killed Trevor, and she immediately tried to look for her family to help dispose of Trevor's body.  When they got back to the house, they found that Trevor was nowhere to be seen.

Trevor meanwhile had survived, but decided to turn Little Mo into the police, and she was arrested.  Despite testimony from the Slater family, Billy, and even Trevor's mistress (whom he also abused), Little Mo was found guilty, and was given a sentence of eight years for attempted murder.

Told you she was a tragic heroine.

While Little Mo was sent to prison, Trevor decided to take out his anger on his mistress, and on one such occasion, the mistress ended up in the hospital.  By then, the mistress had given birth to Trevor's child, and Kat and the rest of the Slaters decided to take care of the baby while she recovered.  When Trevor barged into the Slater home to get his son back, Kat ended up getting in the way, and Trevor attacked her before getting arrested by the police.  Kat made a deal with Trevor though.  Trevor could avoid jail time if he retracted the abuse charge that got Little Mo sent to prison.

When Little Mo was released, she was emotionally scarred, but through the support of her family as well as a budding relationship with Billy on the horizon, things were finally going Little Mo's way.

The climax of this storyline happened on Halloween night in 2002, when Trevor kidnapped his son and Little Mo and held both of them hostage.  Trevor was determined to make Little Mo pay for everything she had done.  His plan was to throw gasoline all over the Slater house and then light the place on fire, killing everyone inside the house.  What Trevor didn't count on was Little Mo's prison stay making her a lot less fearful of him.  I couldn't help but include this scene, because this truly was Little Mo's finest hour.


Well okay...except for the part where the house actually went up in flames, Little Mo really did a lot of people proud.  She stood up for herself and let Trevor know that he couldn't hurt her anymore.  She was done being abused by him, and it was time for her to live the rest of her life the way SHE wanted with people who DID love her.

Little Mo survived the fire, as did Trevor's son.  Trevor...not so much.  Would you believe that when he died, Little Mo actually wanted to plan a funeral for him?  Eventually people convinced her that the person she should be mourning was the fireman who died trying to save her, instead of the husband who did nothing but hurt her, and she ended up marrying Billy two months later.

Of course, as I later researched online, the wedding of Little Mo and Billy wasn't one that lasted, and Little Mo herself left the show in 2006.  I haven't seen these episodes yet, so please don't spoil too too much. 

The main question one has to ask is...why did it take two years for Little Mo to decide that she wanted to be free of an abusive son of a bitch like Trevor?

Because Little Mo was bullied for so long, in some of the cruelest ways possible.  It's only natural for someone like Little Mo to have such low self-esteem about herself when one is bullied and humiliated every day.

While I thank my lucky stars that my experiences were not nearly as traumatic or devastating as what poor Little Mo had to endure...I know exactly how she felt.  I was humiliated and bullied by quite a few people.  They called me names, beat me up, made me feel so ashamed of myself.  I literally lost about a decade of my life because of what some of those people put me through because I was so ashamed to show myself on the street.  I didn't even really like talking about what I went through at the time because I thought that if I told anyone that the bullying would get worse. 

The thing that Little Mo and I realized a little late in life is that nobody is worth getting abused on a day to day basis.  All Little Mo really wanted was to have a husband who loved her and honoured her.  Instead she ended up with an insecure coward who thought that by beating her, she would stay with him.  Eventually, Little Mo realized through her romance with Billy and the support of her family that she was far better off being alone than being stuck in a relationship where she was constantly getting her heart broken.

I would try almost anything to be friends with people in grade school.  I even went as far as letting the so called 'cool kids' bully me and tease me just so I could be acknowledged by someone.  I was pretty insecure about myself to begin with, and having constant name calling and abuse directed towards me did nothing to erase that insecurity.  It did the opposite actually.

The more I tried to be nice to some of those kids, the meaner they treated me.  I'd offer to share my cookies with them at recess, and they repayed me by washing my face out with snow during a chilly January recess.  But when you're a kid, you just want so desperately to be accepted by people that you just sit back and take it, hoping that they'll grow out of it, or that they'll see that you're strong and then they'll like you.

It took me almost eighteen years to have my Little Mo moment.  It wasn't until a couple of years ago that I realized that I had wasted so much time on those pathetic losers because I let them get to me.  It hasn't always been easy to forget what they did...some of the stuff they did should really have been considered criminal behaviour as far as I'm concerned.  I am getting better at handling it.  I'm now starting to realize that I'm not as pathetic as they lead me to believe for so many years.  In actuality, I think I might have come out of this better than they could ever have hoped to be.  Because while I might not have as much money as they do, or live in as nice a place as they do...my experiences with them have made me realize that I shouldn't settle for anyone.  I should search for the best people for me to be around, because I deserve the very best.

YOU HEAR THAT, PEOPLE?  I DESERVE THE VERY BEST!

Everyone deserves the best things in life for them.

Even Little Mo Mitchell.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

What Marble Cheese and Chocolate Milk Taught Me About Myself



This could be one of the weirdest entries that I may end up writing. 

I mean, yes, the Tuesday theme for this blog is leftovers.  Pot Pourri.  Miscellaneous stuff that doesn't quite fit in anywhere else.  However, I bet you weren't thinking that I would use actual food for a subject.

Fear not, cats and kittens.  There is a method to my madness, and I plan on introducing a couple of pop culture references along the way.  Won't that be fun?

So before I kick off this entry about what cheese and cocoa-flavoured milk beverages have taught me about myself, I think we need a little flashback action going on here.

Does anyone remember the old game show 'Supermarket Sweep'?  No?  To refresh your memory a bit, I've taken the liberty of posting a couple of clips from both the American version (which I've never seen), and the Canadian version (which I remember watching on days when I was home sick).

Okay...first the American version, hosted by David Ruprecht...


...and the Canadian version, hosted by Tino Monte...


(and, just on a related note to the second video, was that not one of the most epic endings you have ever seen on a game show clip?  I just hope the lady in the purple has great dental coverage.)

As you may have guessed, the show is all about shopping in the supermarket.  The way the game worked was that the first two rounds involved answering questions about food products, or having to go into the supermarket set to retrieve a certain product.  Each time a team got a correct answer, they would earn ten seconds on their own clock.  The time would then be tallied up, and that would be their total time for the next round, which was probably the most popular round in the whole game.

As you can guess, both clips above showed the round I'm trying to talk about.  The goal of the third round was to have earned as much time on the clock as possible, because the more time you had, the more time you had to throw things into your shopping cart.  And the more that a team had in their cart, the higher their totals got.  If your total was the highest, you got a chance to play in the bonus round for even more cash and prizes.

So naturally, you'd have contestants doing everything possible to try and win the chance for cash and prizes.  During the shopping cart round, you had contestants throwing everything possible into their carts, narrowly crashing into each other in the process.  It was like all the rules that applied to grocery shopping went out the window, and we saw fairly normal people devolve into savage behaviour in order to get something that they really wanted to get.


Kind of like the dreaded Cabbage Patch Kid epidemic of 1983 where people were trampled and stomped on just to get their hands on one of these (precious?) dolls up above.

You kind of have to wonder what makes people turn from one emotion to another...don't you?

I mean, surely, on the game show 'Supermarket Sweep', the people had an excuse to resort to such incredulous and bewildering behaviour to get what they want...they wanted to be the last team standing at a chance to win even more.

But what happens when you find yourself in the middle of your own episode of 'Supermarket Sweep'? One that happens to be like the show only without the television cameras, manager's specials, or a game show host with a smile so white, you'd swear that Clorox bleach paid his salary.

I work in the supermarket section of a store.  I love my job most days.  There are some days where I wish I had stayed in bed with my head under the covers, but everyone has days like that.

The only thing I don't like having to deal with are people who basically act a lot like some of those past contestants.

I would say that on any given day, whenever I provide customer service to someone, a whopping ninety per cent are kind, friendly, and seem genuinely appreciative of any service you give them. 

There are those ten per cent that are anything but.

You know how it is...say you have an item that you run out of, and you try everything you can to get the item back in stock.  Most of the time, the customer is understanding.  Sometimes though, they end up like this.


They can get angry.  They can get boisterous.  And, yes, they can even point their fingers right at you.

Or even worse.  I won't go into too much detail here, only that I have had to dodge flying objects in a couple of instances.

So, what does this have to do with the original posting about chocolate milk and marble cheese?

They just happen to be the two items that appear to be on sale in our store more often than any other dairy product.  More often than not, we'll have blowout deals on the items that are so good that people will flock to the store to stock up on as much of it as they can...kind of like the shoppers on 'Supermarket Sweep'.

That's fine and dandy for the first few days...but woe is us if we ever run out of stock, for then we have to face the wrath I call the angry mob.


The ones who pitch a fit because they can't get the item that is on sale.  The ones who pitch a fit because they can't get a substitute.  The ones who leave behind a heaping cartload of stuff and curse and swear at anyone who will listen because they cannot get a carton of chocolate milk or a portion of marble cheese.

Some of them get really nasty.  They take out their anger on everyone around them, especially those who they happen to be dealing with.  As bad as I feel that they can't get what they like, I don't think that it's entirely fair to be dealing with such irrational anger from someone.

Being disappointed about not getting an item, or even mild frustration over it is something that I can deal with.  In some cases, I'll even sympathize.  But when someone throws a five-year-old style temper tantrum, that's not all right with me.

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I've learned something about myself just from the two food items I've mentioned in this blog, as well as the people who can't purchase them for whatever reason.

I've learned that no item is worth making yourself look bad over.  I don't understand how dairy products can provoke such rage in people. 

But, then, I try to see it like this sometimes.  Quite possibly they were having a bad day at work, or home, or what have you, and when they went shopping and couldn't buy everything they needed, they lost control of their emotions.  It happens to the best of us...even myself at times.

Or, perhaps they really needed to get marble cheese for a wedding feast or birthday party or bar mitzvah or some other event and they waited until the last minute. 

Or, it's entirely possible that that the people are complete jerks who have absolutely no grasp of how to act impeccably in a social situation and therefore end up humiliating themselves in the meantime.

Honestly, I've dealt with all three.  And all three can be handled in exactly the same way.

Service with a smile.

It may have taken me some time to try and figure this out, but I think I'm getting better at handling conflict resolutions with customers.  As long as I keep my composure and not lose my cool, and maybe flash my pearly-whites, I can handle any situation with ease.

At best, the customer calms down and is understanding about things.  At worse, the smile makes the customer angrier.  But whatever the case is, I no longer let people who are upset over a lack of dairy in their diet bug me anymore.

Because if I did...well...I really wouldn't be much different from them now, would I?

Now, if you excuse me, I'm gonna kick back and relax with a nice glass of chocolate moo juice and a grilled cheese sandwich, to think about all the types of people I will meet tomorrow.

90% of them can't be bad.  I know from experience.

The other 10%?  I'll be ready for them. 

:)

Monday, June 13, 2011

Monday Matinee: The Waterboy

I bet you never expected to see an Adam Sandler movie being featured in this blog entry, did you?

Truth be told, neither did I.

The thing is...there's a lot that I have in common with one particular movie in general.  In order to proceed, I'm going to do things a little differently here.

Picture it.  Elementary school.  1988. (And try to ignore the fact that I just had a Golden Girls moment here)

There was a young boy who once hated gym class so much.  I mean, he really, really, hated it.  If he could have, he would have gladly never taken another gym class again.

You see...this may come as a shock to some of you, but I was never a great athlete in school sports, or any kind of sport for that matter.

(Which explains why this blog celebrates pop culture and not touchdowns)

The point is that growing up in a school district that seemed to put as much if not more emphasis on sports programs as they did with academics was rocky for me.  It almost seemed like if one wasn't athletically gifted, people didn't seem to want anything to do with you.

It started off around 1988, as I said earlier.  I tried my hardest in gym class.  I bounced those basketballs as hard as I could.  I ran as fast as I could.  I rode those little wooden scooter things to my heart's desire.  The end result?  The only C on my report card. 

At least the effort was there.

Unfortunately, effort didn't really matter very much at school.  At my school, I think the majority of my teachers graded solely on athletic abilities instead of effort, and I felt that was the wrong thing for teachers to do.  I mean, yes, it would have been nice to have had athletic skill, but shouldn't the fact that I shed more sweat and tired myself out trying to compete with the other kids mean anything?

In elementary school, it wasn't as bad.  Sure, I had to deal with kids teasing me over my athletic ability, or lack thereof, but I could handle it.  Some days were more fun than others, so I just tried to focus on that.

High school was even worse though.  Ninth grade was okay, but when I got into tenth grade, it was horrible.  It almost felt like I was the ninety-eight pound weakling, even though in reality, I was about 170 pounds heavier and could probably throw a concrete brick through a window.

(DISCLAIMER:  I have not, nor ever, thrown a concrete brick through any window, though I've admittedly been tempted.)

I'm sure that I would have had a better time in gym class if one teacher in particular didn't outrightly tell my parents during the parent-teacher interview that my grade in the class would remain fixed at the same grade no matter how hard I tried, or how much perspiration was shed.

Certainly didn't make me feel any better about myself, that's for sure.

I never did take gym class again, and I really didn't care if I ever got any exercise ever again.  I mean, no matter what, I had people telling me that I was mediocre and that I would never improve, so why bother?

This probably would be a great time to bring up the subject for the Monday Matinee.


One might think that the choosing of the 1998 film 'The Waterboy' is somewhat of an unusual choice.  For me though, it makes perfect sense to talk about this movie.

I mean, listen to the description of Adam Sandler's character, as quoted on 'the usually unreliable, but since I've seen the movie, I know it to be gospel' Wikipedia.

Bobby Boucher is a socially inept, stuttering water boy with hidden anger issues due to constant teasing and his mother's (Kathy Bates) excessive sheltering. He became the water boy for the University of Louisiana Cougars[2] after being told his father died of dehydration in the desert while serving in the Peace Corps. However, the players always torment and the team's head coach, Red Beaulieu (Jerry Reed), eventually fires him for "disrupting" his practices. Bobby then approaches Coach Klein (Henry Winkler) of the South Central Louisiana State University Mud Dogs and asks to work as the team's waterboy. Coach Klein has been coach of SCLSU for years without success, after his brilliant playbook was stolen by Red Beaulieu.

The blue hyperlinks are an added bonus, courtesy of the copy and paste feature.

You know something, let's just come out with it right now.  Aside from the stuttering part, and that my social ineptness could never be as bad as Bobby Boucher's, I'm almost like a carbon copy of Bobby.

Think about it.  It makes perfect sense.  Bobby was picked on by everyone around him.  So was I.  Bobby's social skills were not really all that developed.  My social skills aren't quite as bad, but I didn't really have much game.  I'll come out and say it.

Bobby had an incredibly sheltered life due to an overprotective mother.  While I can thankfully say that my mother was NEVER as bad as Bobby's, there was some protectiveness there that I really didn't need.  Though Kathy Bates was awesome in the movie, I must admit.

Even the part about the head coach getting on Boucher's case resonates true with me.  For the coach was basically every bad gym teacher that I ever had combined into one arrogant, prickly pear of a man.

I just felt so bad for the guy.  No wonder he had anger issues.  When I was in high school, I admit that I had anger issues myself.  We both ended up getting a raw deal in the world of sports just based on things that we felt we had no control over.

In the movie, it wasn't until Bobby got on a different team as the waterboy that his fortune began to change.  When his new team began to harass him and make fun of him, the new coach urged Bobby to fight back against them.  That advice awoke something inside Bobby, and what he did was tackle the quarterback with such force that the QB got K.O.'ed.

This instance really helped Bobby grow as a person.  He went back to school, and went behind his mother's back to join the college football team as a linebacker.  With Bobby's help, the team, whose previous success was inadequate at best, was on their way to the top.  Bobby even managed to attract the romantic affections of his childhood friend, Vicki as a result of it...something that would have never crossed his mind before.

You see...without spoiling the ending of the movie, that's what the lesson I've learned is all about.  In Bobby Boucher's case, he had almost every possible thing working against him.  Yet, because of some support from a caring coach, it really changed his attitude towards everything.  He started to like himself.  He started to break out of his sheltered upbringing.  He started to explore things that he never thought possible.

He found all that with encouragement from someone who supported him instead of bringing him down.

As for me?  Well, I found that too.  After years of avoiding it, back in 2009, I had heard about a charity walk that my workplace was a part of for quite a while.  It was something known as the 'Walk for Miracles'.  You basically headed to the site of the nearest children's hospital all across Canada and participated in a five kilometre (or for you non-metric types, about three miles) walk.  You raised money for the children's hospital of your choice, and all the money went towards the purchase of new equipment for the hospitals as well as funding research for new treatments.

Back in 2009, I didn't think I would be able to do the walk.  I got winded walking down the street, let along walking five whole kilometres.  When 2009 began, I was very heavy, and I was so out of shape.  After seeing a photograph that was taken of me at the 2008 Christmas party and seeing how horrible I looked, I knew that I needed to make a change.

So, with the help of some very caring co-workers, I made the choice to try and get in shape for a better lifestyle.  I ate better, exercised more, and really stayed focused on the goal.  As a result, by the time the Walk for Miracles came around, I had lost a significant amount of weight, and felt confident enough to do the whole walk.

Sure, when I got to the walk site, there was a 1km walk option, but by doing the 5km walk, I would be challenging myself...stepping out of that comfort zone to better myself. 

I not only did that walk, but I finished at the front of the pack!

Take THAT, you fixed mark making gym teacher.

In fact, I've managed to do the same walk for three years in a row.  It's a great cause, and I love raising money for a hospital that has saved thousands of lives because of the work we've done for them.

And, maybe...just like Bobby did...maybe that's what I needed to feel better about myself.  To do something out of my comfort zone so that I could help others along the way.

A purpose for a purpose.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Sunday Jukebox: "Things Can Only Get Better" by Howard Jones

I suppose some of you are wondering why today's blog post is called 'Sunday Jukebox' and not 'Sunday Funnies'. If you scroll down below to the Bobby's World entry, the explanation is there.

I just felt that in discussing all things pop culture that there was one topic that remained largely undiscussed.

Music.

I can't imagine a world without music in it. What kind of a dull place would it be if we didn't have any music whatsoever. During one six-month period, the music at my workplace just stopped working. It was hell.

So, I started thinking to myself. “Self,” I said, “why don't you have any sort of music feature in this blog?" Music is a universal language that everyone in the world understands. Whether a song has lyrics or is just an instrumental, the way it is presented can have a big impact.

Certainly in my lifetime are songs and artists that stick out. Perhaps it was a Top 40 song that I couldn't get enough of. Maybe it was some obscure B-side that nobody knew existed. Quite possibly, I was touched by the meaning of a particular chorus, or moved by the imagery presented in a music video.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought that I needed to have a category that celebrates nothing but music. Since the Sunday funnies day was sort of made redundant by the fact that many comic strips have been turned into cartoons, I made the decision to move the comic strips to Saturdays and free up Sundays for music discussion.

Hence the creation of the 'Sunday Jukebox' feature!

A couple of points to explain this new day. Most of the time, I'll be featuring a song that really resonated with me, or one that reminds me of something. Sometimes I'll do an artist spotlight. Sometimes, I'll do a band spotlight. I may even throw in a couple of references to albums and television clips for children. After all, most shows for kids usually have a couple of musical numbers in them. You all look at me like I've lost all my hearing in one ear as you read this, but it's amazing what songs for children can teach you about yourself!

Have you got your quarter in your hand? You do? Great! Stick it inside the coin slot and push A-1 to get this feature started.

The first song?



ARTIST: Howard Jones
SONG: Things Can Only Get Better
ALBUM: Dream Into Action
RELEASED: February 9, 1985
PEAK POSITION ON BILLBOARD CHARTS: #5

I was born a little too late to appreciate Howard Jones when he was first releasing music. His debut single was released when I was all of two years old, and back in those days, I believe the only singer I ever listened to was Raffi.

(Suffice to say, it may have taken some years for my musical tastes to mature)

Whatever the case, Howard Jones was one of those artists that had quite a bit of success in the 1980s. In the United States alone, he had eleven singles chart on the Billboard Top 100 between 1983 and 1992 – two of which made the top five.

One of those songs was “No One Is To Blame”, which was Jones' highest charting single at #4 in 1986. The other song is the one that I'm featuring in this blog entry.

The song 'Things Can Only Get Better' was initially released in the United Kingdom in February of 1985, and a month later hit the North American charts. Oddly enough, although Jones was born in the UK, this particular song charted higher stateside than it did in his own country.

And it was a pretty decent song at that. It had every element of a quintessential 1980s hit. Synthesizers. Big hair. Catchy and upbeat. The song and its accompanying video had all of these things and more.

Of course, as I mentioned before, I was a little too young to appreciate Howard Jones' music. Back when the song was hitting the charts, I was likely hitting the sack with my little yellow blanket inside my playpen. I probably couldn't tell the difference between Howard Jones and Jughead Jones back then.

It wasn't until recently that this song crept back into my life in a way that I never would have thought possible.

On February 9, 1985, Howard Jones released 'Things Can Only Get Better'. Twenty-six years later on February 9, 2011, I was in some of the most severe pain that I had ever experienced in my whole life.

About a week prior to this, I had been having some problems with my stomach area. There was this sharp, pulsing pain in my gut that no matter what I tried, I could not get rid of. If you can picture a Ninja dressed head to toe in black tossing shurikens directly at my mid-section, you would probably get an idea of how bad of shape I was in. It was absolutely unbearable.

After suffering from this for almost a week (and after several trips to the emergency room), it was on February 9, 2011 that I made the decision to go to the hospital and I was not going to leave the emergency room until the doctors did something to help me.

Picture this. It was roughly eight-thirty in the evening. I was in so much pain that I was literally out of breath as I was walking to the car. My mom agreed to take me to the emergency room because I was in really bad shape, and I didn't know what was going on with me.

It was an incredibly scary feeling to have, you know.  The feeling of being so incredibly sick and not knowing what was wrong at all.  I didn't know what to expect, and I was worried as to what would happen to me.

As soon as the car started, the radio kicked on, and what song came on the radio?


Yeah, you pretty much figured it out, right? 

It seems like such a random moment, and it seemed like a random song that was playing on the radio.  Somehow though, it calmed my fears a little bit.  It almost seemed as though someone was trying to give me a message of some sort.  I don't claim to be a religious person by any means, and I'm in the camp that thinks that there might be a God, but yet there's no proof that such a deity even exists.  Yet, after hearing that song play through on the ride up to the hospital, somewhere inside me, I kind of knew that like Mr. Jones was singing on the song, that things would only get better from here.

After hearing that song, I was at peace with whatever the outcome would be.

The end result was that I had a severe gall bladder infection.  So severe that it had gotten fused onto my liver.  My surgery was three days later.  The surgeon actually had to cut around the liver to get the gall bladder out.  It meant a hospital stay of sixteen days total, and the end result was that I ended up with this sexy scar.



Isn't that a beaut?  My apologies for the lack of six-pack abs and abundance of chest hair.  Metrosexual I am not. 

It's been four months since I had my surgery, and the only souvenir I have of the experience is that scar.  When you consider that had I let it go any longer, I could very well not be here to write this blog entry, that's a very big deal.  I'll greatly wear my scar with pride, and hope that others will see it as a badge of honour and not an ugly disfigurement.

Seriously, you insult the scar, you insult me. 

So what have we learned from this?

Howard Jones may not be a fortune teller, or a psychic.  Heck, he hasn't had a hit song on the charts in almost twenty years.  He was right about one thing though.  Things could only get better...and they did.

It was the power of positive thinking.  Listening to the Howard Jones song on the radio kickstarted my belief that I would get through my medical scare of February 2011 because I kept telling myself that things would only get better.

I'm thinking maybe I should adopt this song as my own personal mantra.



God bless you, Howard Jones.  :)

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Saturday Morning - Bobby's World

Before I go ahead with this blog entry, I'm going to announce a slight change to the weekly schedule.

It dawned on me while I was writing my entry on U.S. Acres last Sunday that I could have really used the show under the Saturday Morning cartoon feature.  The Saturday morning and Sunday funnies feature are almost the same exact thing, as many comic strips and comic books have been turned into cartoons.  Similarly, many Saturday morning cartoons have been turned into comic books.  Therefore, I have made a decision to change the focus of the Sunday entry.  The Saturday Morning and Sunday Funnies Section will combine into the Saturday Morning feature.

So, what will I do for Sundays then?  It also dawned on me that I never really had a music spotlight in my blog, and there's lots of music videos that tell a story.  So, Sunday Funnies will now become...

SUNDAY JUKEBOX!

I think you'll like the change, and I think you'll enjoy the new Sunday feature.  I already have a great artist lined up for tomorrow's entry.

We still have to get through Saturday first, so let's see what show we'll be featuring today.


Ah, Bobby's World.  A cartoon that I used to adore as a child.  A cartoon that was well-loved by many, many people.  A cartoon that many people want to see back on television.


It seems hard to believe but Bobby's World first aired over twenty years ago in the autumn of 1990.  It ran until 1998.  Almost unheard of for many Saturday morning cartoons.  Just goes to show just how creative a show it really was.  The show centered around young Bobby Generic (pronounced JEN-a-ric), a four year old boy who had a rather normal upbringing in a rather normal family.  One might say that the Generic family could be rather generic (pronounced djinn-AIR-ick) in nature by this description.

The one thing that set Bobby apart from the rest of his family was...ah...well, I'll tell you later.



Bobby's World was created by Howie Mandel, who those of you probably remember from the television show St. Elsewhere.  Or, if you're a bit younger, you may know him as the host of 'Deal Or No Deal' and current judge on 'America's Got Talent'.  Back in the days when Howie actually had hair on his head, he used to do the voice of young Bobby.  In fact, here's a clip of Howie and Bobby in action.



I really tried to find one that actually appeared on Bobby's World, but had very little luck finding one of decent quality, so I inserted this clip from Deal or No Deal.

Those of you who DO remember watching the cartoon know that it always started and ended with a live-action/animated clip where Howie Mandel talks with his creation about the theme of the episode and what lessons they learned.  I thought that this was kind of a neat way to introduce the show.  Not a lot of cartoons that aired combined animation with live-action and lived to tell the tale, but somehow it worked.

I think part of it could be the fact that Howie Mandel also played the role of Bobby's father in the show, and I think that Mr. Generic was meant to be the actual animated version of Howie himself.  You even had some instances in which live-action Howie morphed into cartoon Howie and vice versa.  It was interesting to see, because back in those days, not a lot of us were able to see what voice actors looked like.  Bobby's World did start airing before the days of widespread Internet service and Blackberries, so around that time, voice actors were mostly shrouded in secrecy.  To see the voice actor turn into the cartoon he voiced was interesting to see.

That's my little nerd freakout for this week.  I am entitled to at least one per week, you know.

Being a kindergartener in the show, Bobby sure had to stand out in order to be heard.  His family was absolutely huge.  There was his father, Howard.  Then there was his mother Martha, who looking back on it now sounded a lot like Sarah Palin.  He had two older siblings, Kelly and Derek, who found Bobby more of an annoyance than a help.  Later in the show, he became a big brother to his twin siblings born during the early part of the series.  He had a beloved uncle who used to give him noogies (something that I myself admit to giving all of my nephews when they were younger), and of course his dog Roger.



Aside from the whole having younger siblings (I am the youngest of three), Bobby's family was surprisingly like mine was.  Granted, I never had an uncle who gave me noogies.  I did have two parents and two sisters who like Kelly and Derek were considerably older than I was.  And, yeah, like Kelly and Derek, I imagine my sisters considered me more of an annoyance than a help too.  I was the youngest child though, so I guess it happens. 

Oh, and I never had a dog.  Not since the one we had when I was born tried to bite off half my face at a year old.  I've been a cat person ever since.

Of course, if I were to say that my family was kind of like the Generic family, then it would make for a really boring entry.

I think the thing that really made me feel like I was a lot like Bobby was something that Bobby and I shared.

We both had a vivid imagination that would take us to places that nobody else could ever visit.

Bobby had one of those overactive imaginations that many four year olds develop.  If he wanted to, he could dream up a place where he could go, and with a little brain power, he would transport to that place.  In his mind, I suppose he was goin', was goin', was goin' on a trip.


And, that's just one example.  Check these out as well, just to see how imaginative a boy Bobby was.



Yeah, Bobby was kind of a weird child according to some people.  Then again, so was I.

When I was a child, I tended to keep to myself.  Not having siblings close to my age, and not living in neighbourhoods that were filled with kids, I pretty much had to entertain myself.  And, how did I entertain myself?  I would pretend to be places just like Bobby.

Whenever I would play with my Fisher-Price little people playsets, I would grab my favourite little person (usually the grumpy looking kid with the sideways cap and freckles), and I would grab my Fisher-Price main street set, and pretend that I was in the downtown area meeting people, doing errands, and having fun doing it.  Of course as an adult, those things are anything but fun now.  When you were a kid, your imagination could take you to tons of places, and do lots of things.

I reckon that I took better vacations in my imagination than I ever did in real life.  I reckon that I created imaginary friends that were better behaved than some of the kids I really did know. 

The sad thing is that a lot of kids who have overactive imaginations are unfairly judged as being dreamy, or being silly, or something else that judgmental adults would say, and I think that's the wrong attitude for adults to have about kids like Bobby (and ultimately me).  Where would we be without our dreams and our goals?  Sure, the odds of me travelling to Mars in a rocket are slim to nil...but in my dreams I could go there anytime I wanted to.  And, yes, I doubt that I could sail around the world in a dinghy, but in my dreams, I could do it in whatever speed I so chose.

Just because a kid dreams a lot and uses his imagination to escape from the real world from time to time, it doesn't mean that they have no future, or that they're wasting their time.  It shows that they're creative, introspective, and just plain more interesting than someone who never did have that opportunity to explore the world that they live in.

Looking back on when I was four, I'm glad that I did have the same imaginative qualities Bobby did.  I don't think they warped me in any way, or made me any less of a person for it.  If anything, it allows me to look at problems through a different point of view from the average person.  I'm okay with that.

Friday, June 10, 2011

TGIF: Blanche Devereaux from the Golden Girls

This is the third edition of the TGIF series, where we take a look at our favourite sitcoms of yore.  The last two sitcoms that were featured in this space had both previously aired sometime in the popular TGIF block of shows that used to air on the ABC network every Friday.

Ah, but not all of these sitcom features aired on Fridays.  I just borrowed the TGIF phrase because it sounded cool.

The sitcom I've decided to feature in this entry originally aired on Saturdays.  But then again, the show is currently in syndication through reruns on Monday through Friday, so you have a one in five chance to see it on a Friday.

That's my explanation, and I'm sticking to it, anyways.



The Golden Girls ran from September 1985 to May 1992, and admittedly, the show was quite an unusual one.  It was one of the few shows to have an all female main cast (if I'm thinking correctly, only 'The Facts Of Life' and 'It's A Living' could make the same claim at the time).  It was also one of the few sitcoms where each member of the main cast was over the age of fifty.  A remarkable feat, considering how youth-oriented Hollywood could be.

Somehow, it worked.  In fact, it didn't just work...it was one of the most brilliant sitcoms that has ever aired over the past thirty years.

Granted, when the show first started airing, I was only four years old.  Back in those days, I only watched Sesame Street, Mr. Dressup, and the occasional movie shown on 'The Wonderful World Of Disney'.  I hardly was at the right frame of mind at the time to sit in front of a television and watch a bunch of old ladies gabbing at a kitchen table while they chomped down on cheesecake.

I certainly didn't hear kids talking about the latest episode of Golden Girls.  There were no Golden Girls lunchboxes.  No Golden Girls pencil cases.  And certainly, nobody handed out these cards on Valentine's Day.


Okay, admittedly the Sophia one is really funny.

This blog entry is not on her though.  Someday though.

The Golden Girls was a successful show for the seven seasons it was on.  Although it spawned a spinoff with 'Empty Nest', as well as a less successful sequel (The Golden Palace), the Golden Girls was arguably one of the most successful sitcoms of the 1980's and 1990's. 

Recently the show started airing reruns on a cable channel here in Canada called TVTropolis, and it wasn't until I re-watched the show through thirty-year old eyes that I realized how witty and well-written the show was.  As a four year old, they didn't really do anything that was out of the ordinary from my grandparents, but as a man, they were quite entertaining to watch.

I wish I could do an entry on each of the four leads.  All of them really had their own distinct personalities, and all of them have qualities that I myself can identify with...even though I'm a male and about thirty years younger than they were.

Because I enjoy a challenge, I went with a character that on the surface was nothing like me.  Beneath though, it's almost eerie how much in common we really did have with each other.



Blanche Devereaux.

Portrayed by the late Rue McClanahan, she was the youngest of the Golden Girls.  Born and bred in the South, Blanche was one of those girls who always seemed to depend on the kindness of strangers.

Preferably the male kind.

One of the biggest running gags of the whole serial revolved around Blanche's promiscuity.  Although she was physically in her fifties, she had the sex drive of a nineteen year old woman.  Blanche would often get ribbing from Dorothy, Rose, and Sophia about her lust for men, but more often than not, Blanche would let their insults roll right off her back.

I'd tell you how Blanche often saw herself in spite of those comments, but I think this music video montage I found on YouTube explains it better.



On the surface, Blanche didn't seem to care about what people thought about her.  She was a real Southern belle.  An independent woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.  She was the woman who looked beautiful at any age, and who thought she could give women half her age a run for their money.

Was she any of those things though?  I'm sure that Blanche really wanted to be.  As you peel back the layers however, she ends up being a scared little girl who just wanted to be loved and accepted for who she was.

That's probably where Blanche and I are kind of the same.  We both wanted to be accepted and loved no matter what.  We also didn't like to be hurt.  In some ways, I think both of us were slightly insecure just based on our experiences.

The difference is, where I closed up and hid from the world, Blanche literally wanted to open up her world to anybody who happened to be passing through.

The thing is, I think the reason we became that was was because of a traumatic event that happened to both of us.  Something so traumatic that it caused us to act somewhat out of character for years.

In my case, I remember when I was a little kid, I would be happy and carefree.  I would start up conversations with random people in the grocery store, or on the streets, and I was a very outgoing child. 

Then I entered school, and kids were mean to me, and somewhere along the way, I got less and less outgoing.  I tried to talk to them and be their friend, but nobody really seemed interested.  As time passed, I talked less and less to the point where the teasing got so unbearable that I tried everything to get them to leave me alone.  I guess my parents were kind of shocked because I never used to be so closed off from everything.  People who lived near us were kind of nosy, and they thought I was weird because I hardly ever left the house other than school, but they didn't know the truth.  It's taken me years to try and heal from it to have some sort of a normal life, but it hasn't been easy.


Blanche was in a similar experience.  After the death of her husband, Blanche's sex drive really went into overdrive.  Part of me wonders if she acted this way because she was worried of being alone after the death of her husband, and this was her way of not feeling as alone.  It's interesting to note that none of Blanche's relationships really seemed to work out, or last longer than a few episodes at a time.  Sometimes the problem was with the men.  Some of them were real jerks.  Some of them were really nice guys that adored Blanche.  Blanche would always seem to find something wrong with them, though.  They didn't have a good job, or they didn't have the stamina in the bedroom...really superficial stuff.

That's what one might initially say about Blanche with that information.  They might have thought that Blanche was a superficial snob and that nobody was good enough for her.

That's only partially right.

I think deep down inside, Blanche had difficulty committing to a new man because she was still in love with the deceased.  Blanche's husband couldn't be replaced, and I think deep down, Blanche knew it.  I could be totally off the mark here, and this could just be an opinion, but my theory is that Blanche kept going after men for the company.  Blanche really did not want to end up alone.  She just wanted companionship so she could fill the void lost by the trauma of losing her husband, even if only temporarily.

A lot of people don't realize that emotional trauma can be just as debilitating as physical trauma.  On the surface, a lot of us appear like nothing is wrong when inside we might be hurting, or unsure of what may be wrong.  It's nothing to be ashamed of. 

Certainly, Blanche has nothing to be ashamed of.  Sure, she may have a reputation, but she never let it define who she was as a person.  She had a successful job at a museum, and managed to live a fairly comfortable life. 

Though sometimes she would have a slip up...like the time she stayed up late to write a novel.



That was kind of a train wreck, wasn't it?

I'll admit to having almost a similar moment as Blanche though.  No, I never stayed up all night to write a book and then ended up a delerious mess of a man.  I did stay up all night during Frosh week, and ended up passing out on a bus.  I was so lucid and tired when I arrived at my stop that the poor bus driver thought I had been drinking, or had done heavy drugs.  It was...an embarrassing situation to say the least.

Sleep was something that was a secondary issue though as far as I was concerned.  Like Blanche was so concerned with getting her manuscript done, I was so concerned with making it through Frosh week.  At the time, my living situation was kind of in limbo, and to try and get my mind off of things, I ended up focusing all my attention into Frosh week and trying to find accommodations for the school year.  All that stress prevented me from taking care of myself, so I would try to take care of others. 

Yeah, that worked well, didn't it?

Everything worked itself out in the end, but it wasn't one of my finer moments.  Much like Blanche.

There's another similarity between Blanche and myself.  We both love our families, but absolutely hate it when we find ourselves unable to get on the same page as them.

I really love my loved ones, but I'll admit that there are times in which I feel like we kind of don't see eye to eye.  Quite a few than I really have space for.

Blanche seemed to have these issues with her family as well, particularly with her children.  When her daughter Rebecca came for a visit, Blanche was shocked to find that the once waif supermodel was now more chunky in appearance.  You could tell that it was something that she disapproved of, but she tried her best to hide it so as not to start a fight. 

I can recall many times where I had to bite my tongue at things where my family is concerned.  Not so much with physical issues as much as it is behaviour issues.  Again, it would take a week of blog entries to get into it here, but maybe one day I'll talk about it.

Blanche would soon realize that her daughter's weight gain was the least of her worries.  Turns out that Rebecca had gotten engaged to a man named Jeremy who basically treated her like dirt.  He made comments about how she was big as a whale, and how unattractive she was, and it made Blanche furious.  In fact, you've got to see this clip to see what I mean.


That clip made me see myself in BOTH those women.

Obviously, I could be considered the male version of Rebecca.  I have been where she is.  When I was at my heaviest weight, I was practically 300 pounds.  I didn't think anyone would want me either.  I took friendship where I could get it, even if they took advantage of me or made me feel worse about myself.  I took the abuse because I didn't think I could do better.

Of course, that way of thinking turned out to be wrong. 

Rebecca saw that Jeremy wasn't the right guy for her, and a lot of it was because Blanche had that heart-to-heart with her.  By listening to Blanche, Rebecca finally decided to make a decision that benefitted her.  I guess in some ways, I can say that about my family.  They didn't always have the right thing to say and sometimes they said the wrong thing (like at the tail end of the above clip), but they at least listened.  I think that's what Blanche did.

And that's how I'm kind of like Blanche too.  I may not have the right answer or even say the right thing, but I will always listen to a friend or a family member.

I may have even been taught a valuable lesson by Blanche as well, which she herself didn't learn until it mattered most.  If something isn't right, SPEAK UP!

You might be surprised by the result.

Thursday, June 09, 2011

Thursday Night at the Arcade: 1-Up Mushrooms from Super Mario

Have you guys ever had a really terrible day where it felt as though nothing ever went your way?  I have.  Yesterday happened to be one of those days.  Not to go into too much detail, but I've had better days.

I think we can all agree that adult problems can sometimes suck the life out of you, especially when they all seem to come at you all at once.  It kind of makes you long for the days when you were a child, and your most pressing problem was having to take a red crayon and a blue crayon to get the shade of purple needed to colour the grapes on the bowl of fruit page in a colouring book.

Or having lost twelve straight games of Clue because you kept getting stuck with the Mrs. White token, as your bratty cousin demanded to be Professor Plum.

Or, if you happen to be playing video games, and you get stuck in one particular level that you cannot figure out how to get past.

The last one was a childhood problem that I kept having...in particular with one particular type of level in any sort of Mario themed game.


The above image happens to be from Super Mario Brothers 3, but really any Super Mario game could apply here.  When I played any sort of Mario game, I absolutely hated underwater themed levels.  Hated them with a passion.  For one, you really had to time your movements correctly, or else you'd swim right into an electric jellyfish or those evil white squid creatures known as Bloobers.

I would have loved to have made a calamari meal out of those blasted diagonally moving beasts.

If I was armed with a fire flower, I could get rid of those monsters altogether (even though in real life, it would be nearly impossible to light anything on fire under the water).  On water levels where I didn't have fire power, I was pretty much doomed to waste about ten chances getting through the level. 

I really despised water worlds.  They were really hard.  They were the kind of level where I wish I could have more chances to complete the blasted thing so I could play on a level that had more control. 
Heck, any of those castle levels were better than underwater levels.  Even if all you got was...




And as anyone who has played any Mario game, we all know how much we HATED that mushroom capped dude by the seventh world...

...that's how I feel about underwater levels in Mario games.

It's also the perfect topic to bring up in...



(I don't know HOW it ended up so slanted...)

No matter.

This week's video game topic is something that during those blasted underwater levels in Mario games I wish I had.  They were better than fire flowers.  Better than Hammer Brothers costumes.  They were even better than those yellow glowing stars.  And, for something to be better than a star that granted you invincibility for fifteen seconds, you know it has to be big.

And here it is.



In most cases, if you were to come across a green mushroom, chances are that if you put it in your mouth, though it might look good to eat, and it might look good to taste, you could get sick, real quick.  Or, so a couple of furry blue monsters told me way back when did...

These little guys don't have any of those poisonous qualities.  Quite the opposite, actually.

Ladies and gentlemen...say hello to the 1-UP Mushroom!

Yes, the 1-UP mushrooms were bright green in hue and although rare to find, were worth seeking out.  For every 1-UP mushroom that one managed to find, one could get new life breathed into them.

No, seriously, each 1-UP mushroom could be redeemed for one extra shot at saving Princess Toadstool from the castle (and yes, I know she's legally changed her name to Princess Peach now, but I'm a traditionalist at heart).  Trust me.  It was worth finding them all.

Sometimes they were easy to spot.  Sometimes they were hidden by invisible blocks.  And, sometimes they were gotten in the most unusual ways...



I tell you something.  I wish that I had a staircase filled with Koopa turtles in every level.  Would have made the game so much easier.

In fact, I almost wish that 1-UP Mushrooms existed in real life sometimes.  You could find them in the produce section in between the portobello and shiitake mushrooms, and they would be somewhat expensive, but worth the price if it meant that you could have a chance to do-over entire sections of your life.  Wouldn't that be something?

Of course, we all know that the odds of creating a mushroom that regenerates life has the same possibility of existing as the Loch Ness monster, dinosaurs, and unicorns.  Still, it's nice to dream, isn't it?

Just as I would have wanted them in huge surplus in underwater levels, I would have loved to have had the chance to pop a 1-UP mushroom to redo some parts of my life.  Would I have liked to have had one when I was making the decision to leave college prematurely?  It might have helped.  I'd probably loved to have sprinkled some 1-UP mushrooms on a pizza anytime I got a bad grade on a test.  And as far as my school years go in general, I would have loved to have had a produce cooler filled with them.

And then some.

 Sadly, 1-UP Mushrooms are a fictional creation.  At least it inspired me to come up with a pretty decent post about what could be.  Because honestly if we fail to look at things from all angles, it doesn't make for a very productive or even well-rounded life.

We don't need 1-UP mushrooms to get a second chance.  We can create our own. 

Or, at least...wait until we can find the Extra Strength 3-UP moons...