Check It Out

Posts Tagged ‘weird’

Remember those creepy dolls from when we were kids that would cry if you shook them, or leak water from their crotch when you stomped on them?

Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about; maybe you didn’t have to abuse your dolls to get them to work properly, but my cousins and I always had the generic knock-off dolls, and they required very strict parenting in order to live up to their full potential. Anyway, remember those dolls? Looking back, you probably think they were pretty creepy. Well, in the words of that song by a group apparently called Bachman-Turner Overdrive (Thank you, Google) b-b-b-baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet!

I submit for your examination, Exhibit A:

This is a set of plush dolls that you can apparently buy in Japan, and on Amazon when they’re not sold out. They come as a set and retail for $40-50. In other words, that’s some fancy shit. Can you imagine being tucked into bed with these when you were a kid? This is an example of where potty-training by positive reinforcement has gone WAY too far.

Get ready, because Exhibit B is a very disturbing image, imho:

From China (or perhaps Japan again, I’m not so good at identifying the characters) we have another appallingly misguided attempt at a body-function educational toy. I’m not even sure where to start on this one. It’s a baby, growing pubic hair and some kind of funky ankle hair. I wonder if it’s a one-time use toy, or if you can yank its hair to make it grow and shave it all off again, like that Barbie whose hair you could yank and cut to the tune of four feet.

The jury will now direct its attention to Exhibit C:

I’m not sure what this toy is actually called, because I can’t read Japanese, but it’s basically a game of Russian Roulette, except instead of a bullet, plastic feet come out and kick you in the head. Needless to say, if this happens, you lose. I guess if you buy this game, being kicked in the head is the only reasonable course to take from there, anyway.

Exhibit D at least deserves an honorable mention for the concept:

At first glance, this is any old beach ball with a vaguely creepy religious message emblazoned across it, kind of like the lame favors they give out at Vacation Bible School (because when I think vacation, I for sure think Bible!) The thing that strikes me is that it’s a beach ball. Are kids supposed to think they’ll be able to walk on water while they play with this? I hope they test it in the shallows first.

And now Exhibit E, for your consideration:

This toy is called “Sixfinger”, and it is apparently supposed to look like a finger that can write like a pen, shoot missles, and who knows what else. I don’t really understand why this toy finger does all these things, but I can tell you, looking at this picture, a finger wasn’t the first thing that came (ha) into my head. Tell me I’m not the only one, here.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please view Exhibit F:

I present to you: Facebank! Yep, that’s what this is supposed to be. A bank. Look, I was never a very brave kid, I’ll admit, but I can’t be the only one who would have been completely terrified to stick my hand in this thing’s mouth. I’m not sure I want to know what you have to do to the thing to get your money back out of it? I hope it doesn’t involve the Sixfinger.

And at last, we have Exhibit G:

That is not a real cat. It is a toy robot cat. It has been programmed to act like a real cat, except without the puking and hating you. It purrs and rolls over, and just generally looks at you in a creepy, dead-eyed way. They have a version on toy shelves here called “Fur real” friends, and let me tell you, walking past a toy aisle and having that thing reach a paw for you is seriously creepy.

That’s all for today, but I saw so many creepy toys that I may have to return to this topic some other Wednesday.

What’s the creepiest toy you ever saw/owned?

Also, side note: If anyone knows how to make it so that I can align text and images side-by-side without having the next paragraph of text ride up to be alongside the first picture, please let me know! I tried for so long to make my comments next to the images, but the text and images wouldn’t stay lined up the way they did in my preview.

So most of us have a pretty decent idea of when something we say or do is generally socially acceptable or not, right? For example, you wouldn’t normally walk up to a stranger and punch them in the face, or flip your neighborhood sexy librarian the bird, would you? (Your answer to that one better be no, or I’ll walk up to you and punch you in the face.)

So what do you do when someone else completely flouts those rules, and leaves you in a position where you have to react to something you’re not sure how to handle?

Today I went out to lunch, and I had just such an experience at the restaurant. I had just receieved my plate with a grilled cheese sandwich and french fries (I love the Kids’ Menu. I will never stop ordering the under-12 specials. NEVER!) when this elderly woman, who has been sitting kitty-corner from me, but whom I haven’t been paying much attention to, comes out of the bathroom. She takes her seat again, and all of a sudden starts talking to me. Now, I’m a pretty friendly person, so naturally I answered.

She said, “Boy, that looks good. What is it?” Now, most people can identify a grilled cheese sandwich and french fries in a single glance, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. “It’s a grilled cheese sandwich with french fries,” I said. I didn’t even talk with my mouth full, because I am polite and aware of social etiquette like that.

“It sure looks good,” she repeated, “Can I have some?” And then her hand started reaching for my plate. Bear in mind I have never seen this woman in my life, AND she had just come out of a public bathroom!

“Uhm,” I managed intelligently, “No.”

I sort of thought she was kidding, because she looked like a perfectly respectable, slightly awkward elderly lady — you know, the kind that always asks you how school was, even when you’re twenty-three?

“Oh come on,” the lady said, inching her fingers closer to my plate, “I just want a few. No, just one. Just that little french fry right there. Can I take it?”

“Uhm, no,” I repeated, certain I could still hear the toilet flushing behind me. “Come on,” the woman said again, “You’re really not gonna let me have a french fry?”

When I shook my head again, she finally gave up, and decided to amuse herself by asking the waitress for more sugar packets, which she then proceeded to stuff into her pockets.

The worst part was when I had about ten french fries left and I was totally full, and I had to force myself to eat those last 10 french fries, because I totally knew the lady would call me out for not sharing otherwise.

The whole amusing episode made me think, though. Generally, there are accepted responses to all sorts of situations, but what do you do when a situation comes up that you’re not prepared for? How do you handle someone else’s faux pas? Normally, I just roll with it, but when it comes to someone wanting to put their fingers in my food, I totally have to draw the line!

Now share with me (ha)! Have you ever had to deal with with someone else’s total lack of comprehension of what’s socially acceptable and what’s not? What did you do?

OK class! Time for show-and-tell! I want to hear about the craziest, weirdest dream you’ve ever had.

I’ve had a lot of really strange dreams, but I think this one I had a few weeks ago takes the cake. I’ve forgotten some of the details, but I’ll try to give you the gist of it.

So I was working as a security screening agent in an airport. For some reason, part of my job duties required that, in between looking at X-Rayed images of baggage, I had to go into a room filled with bureaus and dressers and clean them with a lint roller. I was performing just such a duty when someone called my name to come back out to screening. I set the lint roller down on the floor, and blood started pouring out of it! I freaked out and hid it in one of the drawers, and went out to start scanning bags.

The next passenger I had to scan was a midget, and he had a speech impediment, and seemed… well, simple. Mentally handicapped? Whatever, I’ll come out with it: He was a retarded midget. He stood on his tiptoes and told me that he knew my secret. He then revealed that the lint roller was actually… get ready… a midget Japanese ambassador in disguise, on an undercover mission.

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Shouldn’t she have realized, at this point, that it was a dream?” And the answer is, yes, I absolutely should have. But I didn’t. Instead, I freaked out. Then the midget (the one I hadn’t inadvertantly killed) said he would keep my secret if I quit my job as a screening agent and became a maid for the airport instead. I agreed to his terms, but the guilt weighed on me. Especially since that blackmailing midget seemed to be flying in or out every day, and he always dropped some hint about what I had done. Eventually, I came to a double conclusion: that I couldn’t live with the guilt of what I had done, and that the midget was too retarded to keep my secret for long, anyway.

So, I called Japan on a pay phone, and miraculously, the Emperor or whatever they have over there answered! I told him what had happened, and he told me…

Not to worry about it, because the lint-roller-midget-ambassador was going to be executed anyway, because he had had an illegal abortion a few months ago.

And that, folks, was the craziest, weirdest dream I ever had! Now it’s your turn.

Like everyone else that has trouble sleeping, I have a lot of time at night to lie awake and wonder about things. I decided to get a few of them off my mind by blogging them here, so that way YOU can lie awake at night and wonder about them. If you actually have an answer to any of these mysterious questions, please fill me in in the comments!

Why do people always leave the “59Fifty” stickers on the brim of their baseball caps? Is that like leaving the tag on the Beanie Baby or something? Does it lose value if you take it off? Or is it more like “accidentally” leaving the price tag on your new designer dress? (Seriously, who does that anyway?) Is it just so people know that you overpaid for a stupid little hat that probably cost $0.34 for some Mexican toddler to make? SOMEONE TELL ME.

Why are bathtub doors more expensive than shower doors? I mean, they’re smaller so they technically use less materials, and yet they cost about 30% more in every style at Home Depot. Add this to the list of things-that-cost-more-in-miniature, like sexy underwear and dogs.

What’s up with Coach handbags lately? Every one I’ve seen is uglier than the last! Are the designers just making bets with each other now? Like, “Hey, let’s make this ugly shit-brown bag and just put a giant letter ‘C’ right here, and then this vinyl puke-green shape next to it. Someone will buy it.” And then the other guy goes, “I’ll do you one better. I’m just going to make a poop in this handbag, and put the ‘C’ logo on it, and people will be lining up to buy it.” Now look, I like handbags as much as the next girl, but if you’re going to charge upwads of $500 a pop, at least make them something I’d be willing to be seen carrying around!

Why does every single clothing company have different size guidelines? I’m sick of having to know my size for each store I go to. I thought the point of having clothing sizes was that they were supposed to be the same across the board? I need a cheat sheet whenever I go shopping, like “Okay, I’m a New York & Company medium, but an American Eagle large… I can wear medium tops at the Gap, but I need large pants…” GUYS JUST PICK A STANDARD SIZE PLZKTHX.

Do exotic dancers get a union? If so, how do they elect a union rep? I’m guessing a wet T-shirt contest, but mind you that’s just a guess!

Also, why do we need to call them exotic dancers? What’s wrong with “stripper”? I mean, no disrespect, but it’s just faster to say! And when I have boobies in my face I have a really hard time remembering to be PC!

Why do muffin tops taste so much better than the rest of the muffin? It’s not just the extra-baked part, it’s like even the cakey inside is sweeter on top. Also, I saw “muffin tops” for sale in a bakery and seriously, what’s the difference between a muffin top and a scone?

Still on the topic of muffins (sort of), why do some women call their bellies “muffin tops” where the pop out over the tops of your pants? To me it seems sort of counter-productive. I grab my belly to complain about it, and then the phrase “muffin top” pops out of my mouth and suddenly all I can think about is food. Mmm, muffins.

Cottage-cheese thighs, though? Not so appetizing.

There should be a list of foods it’s cute to compare your body parts to, and then a list of foods it’s disgusting to compare your body parts to. No confusion that way. I mean seriously, a guy comes up to you in a bar and says  “You have a peachy bum” (Okay so it’s never happened to me, but it MIGHT, you know, someday) do you smack him or say “Thank you”? We need an agreed-upon list we can reference when and if this ever happens. Always be prepared, I say.

And the last thing on my mind for today, is thongs. The underwear, not the shoes. I keep seeing things with satin ribbon, with strings of pearls, with soft fuzz in the back. Is it just me, or is WHATEVER your thong made out of going to be uncomfortable as hell? It doesn’t matter what the material is, does it? It still feels like you’re flossing your buttcrack with sandpaper by the end of the day. RIght???

Okay, guys, your thoughts? Do you have an answer for any of these questions? What keeps you awake at night? Share your musings with me!