Thursday, September 24, 2015

Back Like Kotter

So a lot of one person has recently informed me that it's been a long time since I've posted
anything on this "blog" of mine, and you can bet your grandmother's hand-wash-only Christmas tree thigh-high wool socks that I've considered all manner of preposterous reasons why this would be the case.
This line of thought comes naturally to you, that one person in Sweden who has unintentionally stumbled across this travesty of psychotic human swill while attempting to google "how can i save time brushing my hamsters".
It's okay. I'm risking my vague sense of integrity to be completely honest here, so I open my heart to welcome your brutal honesty as well.
We're all human here. Well, I am. You're just that guy in Sweden with poor googling skills.
Or you have huge thumbs.
Don't hide them; they're probably what separates you from being mistaken for a walrus. Be proud!

Okay, I digress from my original point, which was this: I could write some crazy make-believe story that could chance a grin or two daringly escaping between those huge tusks of yours, but that wouldn't be honest. No.
And again, my integrity would be completely broken. Shattered beyond recognition.
I wouldn't want that, and neither should you. Shame on you, you sick Swedish walrus man.
Your hamsters are not impressed.

Here's the story. Nothing exaggerated, elaborated, inebriated or overextended.
The whole truth and nothing but the truth. If you think you can handle the truth.

I've spent the past 2 years in the most secluded part of Asia quietly learning how to fight evil and other less popular badness under the careful training of Liam Neeson. He started me out making little pipe cleaner froggies. You know, the ones with cute little googly eyes and they wrap around your toothbrush and let your bowel-happy dinner guests know you have incurable social problems without having to verbally spell it out for them.
Because nobody wants that awkwardness.
I have made 63 toothbrush froggies, so I should have no problem getting my point across.

Then we moved on to harder things.

Okay, so despite my best efforts that particular lesson didn't go over very well. The only thing Liam Neeson taught me that day was that he can get a major case of the cranky bugs. Oh, and he's also very good with a whip.

Surprisingly, things actually got even worse the next day. Liam's brother, Noel, stopped by and was like "We're getting Oasis back together again! Drop the pipe cleaners and get in the van."
Which, I must interject, is not something you hear every day. Well, not in Asia, anyway.
Liam Neeson looked at me, looked at his brother, looked at the little pipe cleaner froggy he was so masterfully cradling in his hands, and shrugged.
Then I watched in utter horror as he dropped it onto the floor, in slow-mo no less, and told me he was going to leave me in the hands of some other guy named Al Ghul.

At least, that's what I thought he'd said. Turns out he said Al Gore.
My bad.

Yeah, you're probably thinking what I was thinking at the time: more pipe cleaner toothbrush froggies. Turns out it was even worse. The most unimaginable horror I'd ever faced in my entire life.
I'm trying not to cry as I write this. Please bear with me here.
My memories will forever be scarred by this horrific chapter of my life.

He had me filling those little plastic toy capsules you get out of the toy machines.

So what began as simple yet deadly pipe cleaner art quickly morphed into a never ending rotation of cheap plastic toys. It was like a complete reversal of one of my favorite childhood pastimes. I felt my mind degrading to the point of insanity with each capsule that I filled.

There were always at least three boxes I had to work with at any given time. They would constantly rotate throughout the week, yet after a few weeks I became all too familiar with the varieties of cheap plastic I was forced to work with.
Party Ninjas, Lil' Thugs, Magix Brand Komby Katz, Transformies, Ghetto Alienz, One Direction Locker Buddies and a bizarre assortment of tie-dye erasers shaped like Amish farm tools.
I remember one month I randomly got a box of The Hobbit mini figures, although I suspected they were pirated knock-offs because Bilbo looked more like Morgan Freeman than Martin Freeman.

And then there was that one night when I managed to sneak away to the television, when and where
this Oasis concert was being broadcast live:
It was obvious the fame was completely going straight to Liam's head. Or it was encephalitis.
Either way I rationalized that I'd never escape this poorly executed menagerie of grammatically incorrect plastic trinkets if I couldn't find a way to get him back here to continue my stealthy magical martial arts training. So I began to sneak rescue messages into the capsules:

Which by now I must apologize because obviously I eventually made it out alive.
Sorry kids and/or Swedish walrus man. I only did about 5,000 of them that way, so hopefully it won't have too much of a negative impact.

So....just how did I escape from Al Gore, you're surely not asking at this point? I know I'M not asking that, mostly because I already know. That would be kind of weird for me to ask myself something I already know. But I'm sure you don't care so I'll tell you anyway.

One dark and snowy night while Al Gore was trying to build some internets I managed to sneak up behind him and knock him out utilizing the same martial arts moves Liam Neeson had taught me between his toilet waxing lessons.
Well, okay, I never actually passed any of his ninja tests...therefor I had to resort to my basic resources instead. Which unfortunately boiled down to me throwing two handfuls of Komby Katz at his head.
Surprisingly the irresistibly soft yet combable nylon rainbow fur formed a knotted web of plastic death in mid-air, subduing him into unconsciousness.
Turns out....are you sitting down?

And stop eating your hamsters.

Al Gore is a robot. Close your mouth.

Once he was unconscious, I turned him over and found this panel:

It was very confusing but after several failed attempts at mashing the Spicy Chicken Curry button I finally took a gamble and tried the "POWER" button.
Yes, I didn't think it would work either. But it did. To my utmost surprise Al Gore completely shut down.
Don't say you ever walked away from this blog without learning something new!

So once this was all accomplished I paused to consider my next move.
You see, I was free to escape but I had absolutely no clue whatsoever how I would do it.
That's when I suddenly noticed this sign on the wall nearby:

I felt SO stupid that I didn't notice this throughout the entire 2 years I'd been locked away in this secluded Asian mansion.
Yeah, I really wasted a lot of time, and I guess some people might suggest it really wasn't necessary to deactivate Al Gore or even try to break up Oasis. But I think those people are nuts.
I mean, you're automatically nuts just for getting this far down this blog post.
Bravo, your hamsters are still unimpressed.

So yeah, I promptly called Christopher Walken on the emergency Walken-Talkie phone, and he immediately brought me back home in a flying '63 Chevelle.
Man, that guy's got some great stories. And he knows where all the Krispy Kremes are.
I really have to get one of those phones installed in my house.

So kids, here's what I learned from this somber experience:
Being stuck for 2 years on a snowy Asian mountain alone with Al Gore will do things to you. Unforgettable things. Scary things. The kind of things you don't tell grandma.
Kids, you don't have to go to Asia to be cool.
They sell pipe cleaners in other countries too.

Now I'm back like Kotter and ready to fight some crime! Or wax toilets.
Whichever comes first.