Written Saturday Night/Sunday Morning
New day, new problem. I’m making myself run late because I got in the mood to stay in bed while my cell phone’s alarm kept going off. I figure that I’d go into the business center for online time . . . but now they’re open from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. on weekends. How is that convenient for guests? So I wait a few minutes, get online for as short a time as I can (especially because the guy at the desk is now charging me), troop down to Union Station, wait several minutes on line to satisfy a muffin craving (where I could’ve just gone under the hotel for a quick trip to Tim Horton’s), and then I head off to the con. One of my biggest flaws is my ability to do stuff that goes against me, where I have the ability to use common sense.
I’m still trying to have fun, going with the flow when I can. I get shut out of the panel for DC Comics’ 52-book relaunch? Well, the panel for Dragonball Z voice actors has some open seats. I haven’t seen the series since Dragonball GT wrapped up in the States. The abbreviated version of DBZ -- Dragonball Z Kai doesn’t interest me, but I am a fan of “Dragonball Z Abridged.” This is a group of YouTube folks who squeeze several episodes of the series in neat packages at or around ten minutes. Also, it’s funny as all hell. Naturally, I’m not the only fan of that series, because the talent – Chris Sabat, Colin Clinkenbeard and Mike McFarland – is inundated with “Abridged” questions. They do try to play along as much as possible . . . I’d go into it, but it requires lots of context, so stuff like “Are you a Yoshi?” and “Naaaaaaaaiiiilll!!!” should be researched by going to TeamFourStar.com or Youtube.com/TeamFourStar.
Aside from the “Abridged” stuff, the fan questions can get wacky. One person asked what male characters the actors would involve in yaoi . . . guy-on-guy romance. MacFarlane suggests two characters – Vegeta and Piccolo – for some sweet Sabat-on-Sabat action. A few of the actos have met their counterparts in Japan, and it turns out the character of Chi Chi was renamed “Milk” in Mexico, because “Chi Chi” means “Boob” in Spanish. It was a good panel, and I wasn’t that bummed I missed the DC panel.
I continue wandering the aisles aimlessly, acquiring sketches whenever I can. I wind up getting my “ROM at ROM” sketch from Greg Hyaland. I wound up paying $3 for an issue of Power Man & Iron Fist with ROM in it. I probably could’ve gotten a cheaper issue of ROM’s title, but it’s an issue where ROM blows away a bunch of Dire Wraiths (his enemy) posing as New Yorkers, including one resembling a prostitute. Hilarity follows. I mean it . . . it’s from 1981, and the vengeful pimp looks like a total stereotype of a pimp.
Anyway, I started running out of money, so I sought out an ATM and a place to eat. I’m desperate enough to actually think of getting overpriced food. But the lines for food and money are long no matter where I go. I wind up going to Simcoe Place – a mall of sorts that I’ve hit both other times I’ve been in Toronto – to get filled up.
Really, I can’t think of a standout moment from today. I wound up acquiring five sketches, running my total to twelve after three days. I don’t think I’ll reach my four-day record of 20 (Comic-Con International, 2009), but it won’t be for lack of trying. I also had to leave again, this time to head back to the hotel to squeeze in some computer time. Yes, I am an addict, but at least it’s cheaper than drugs. Happily, I manage to catch the latest episode of DBZA, and it was some fun stuff as usual.
After a long day of walking, I had another box from the Scott Pilgrim books to check off: Sneaky Dee’s, a Tex-Mex restaurant, that’s frequently visited in the fourth book (Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together). In my morning online session, I loaded the relevant info into Google Maps, and I wrote down directions. Turns out I could have done a better job. I got off the train around Carlton Street, and I was assured that it was the same as College Street. So I walked. And walked. And walked. I had gotten a transfer at the train station, thinking I could use it on the streetcar. It turned out that I couldn’t. Eventually, I got lost. And lost. And even more lost. In one stretch of time, I passed by a cemetery as the light dimmed; in other, I was walking in almost total darkness through a residential neighborhood. I kept thinking that I was going to pull the plug, but then I would figure that I was on the right track. If I had infinite endurance, I would have wound up either at the US/Canada border, or in the Arctic Circle. Eventually, I gave up and plopped myself down at a random restaurant. Conceding total defeat, I followed that up by taking a cab back to the hotel. Expensive option, I know, but I wanted to get back before dawn, and I was damn tired. I will not be surprised if I wake up to find my feet missing with a crudely scrawled note reading “FUCK YOU!!!!!”
I would’ve gone back to my room and lapsed into a mild coma, but there was one more event I wanted to see. Turns out the Fairmont Royal York was playing host to “Ultimate Fan Expo Canada Party.” Basically, it had a DJ dressed as a Highlander, a cash bar, and enough people dancing and having a good ol time. I’m serious . . . off the top of my head, I can’t remember the last time I saw so many geeks – many of whom were still cosplaying – getting down so hard and funky. I didn’t really interact much, and I don’t dance, since I’m still a little too neurotic for my own damn good. I’m more into taking pictures, especially if the costumes are interesting (“Holy shit, is he dressed as Captain N the Game Master?!?”) I kept mostly to myself, save for when I convinced myself to play a few hands of a card game that involved trying to trade cards to other players to get a hand of all of the same kind. I wound up lucking into winning once, and I got a set of Star Wars action figures. I mentioned that a. I haven’t collected that stuff since around the time Return Of The Jedi was in theaters, and b. I actually saw the Ewok Village playset on sale at one booth, which was something I had as a kid. Before I knew it, one guy at the table was telling me that he had that as a kid as well, and I showed him the picture I took with my digital camera. I wish that it was easier for me to interact with people like that on a regular basis.
What am I forgetting? Oh, right . . . fucking Irene. My mother told me that it’s on the way, hitting the area on Sunday. Before hitting the party, I called the front desk. Turns out staying one more night here at the relatively cheaper convention rate wouldn’t be out of the question. Where I hate the idea of paying for an extra night, I’d rather not comparison shop with places near the airport. Plus, if my feet haven’t revolted, I can try and make up places I didn’t have time to see. The main problem is that I tend to suffer letdowns once a convention ends, and I try to get the heck out of town the following day. But with a cosmopolitan city at my disposal, maybe it won’t be such a bad thing.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Jason Vs. Irene
Last year, there was an episode on South Park titled “Poor and Stupid.” In it, Eric Cartman (the show’s go-to teen-year-old asshole) gets it into his head that he wants to be a NASCAR driver. He winds up going to a race, commanding a vehicle, and immediately crash it. As he’s airborne, he exclaims, “Well fuck my ass!” Eventually, he managed to get his own car and race for real. Just as he’s about to win (after committing a few acts of vehicular manslaughter along the way), he gets bumped and thrown into the air. His final words before hitting pavement? “Well fuck my ass again!”
It’s early afternoon at the Metro Centre. I’m waiting on line to ask Ty Templeton if he could sketch on a blank cover of Daredevil #1. Thinking myself clever, my idea revolves around Daredevil (known as “The Man Without Fear”) riding on top of Man-Thing (tagline: “Those that know fear BURN at the Man-Thing’s touch!”) I get a call from my mother. We exchange words, and then she hits me with the news. Apparently, Hurricane Irene might be heading for the New York area on Sunday. Turns out that Mayor Michael Bloomberg is shutting down the transit system, and the city is getting ready for the worst. That means that there’s a good chance that the airport in Newark might be shut down on Monday. That’s the day I’m supposed to fly back home.
Well fuck my ass again.
I can’t believe it. New York City isn’t a magnet for hurricanes. They’re not as rare as earthquakes, but if one swings by the area, it’s usually classified as a tropical depression. Aside from hoping my mother and grandfather will be okay, I face the grim prospect of having to spend at least one more night in Toronto. Granted, there are worse places to stay, but out of all the possible outcomes, three bad ones keep popping up in my head.
1. I wind up staying at the Fairmont Royal York, but they decide to charge me the full rate for the extra night, as opposed to the affordable-by-comparison convention price I have right now.
2. I call Continental Airlines, and I wind up having to pay full price for a hotel room near the airport. Even if I get a discounted rate, there’s no real tourist stuff I could do without throwing in a long bus trip into the city.
3. Here’s the worst scenario I can think of happening within reason . . . after getting stiffed by the hotel and airline, I wind up being forced to stay at least one night in the airport. Alone. I can nap while sitting down, but I can’t imagine sleeping overnight. I don’t even camp out for real. Would I have to use my full backpack as a pillow, or should I swipe some from the hotel before checking out?
I know that there’s a chance that everything might work out all right, and that I’ll get home to an undamaged house and uninjured mother, but I tend to make mountains out of molehills . . . . then the enlarged moles go in for the kill.
The Mixed Bag Project continued apace, as I wound up paying a little too much for waffles and orange juice at one of the hotel’s restaurants. On the bright side, the OJ didn’t cost $7, or whatever the price of that was at the place I stayed in San Diego two years ago. The convention experience went okay today, though I did do some aimless wandering later in the day. I wound up going to just one panel, centering around DC Comics’ Flashpoint miniseries. I also hit what I thought would be a panel for Supernatural: The Anime Series, but it turned out they were just showing episodes from the DVD without any back-and-forth, and I already saw those episodes. On the sketch front, I got the Daredevil/Man-Thing concept fulfilled by Ty Templeton. I also got sketches of the Face of Boe and Lady Cassandra (from Doctor Who) by Katie Cook, Hawkeye by Valentine DeLandro, Captain Britain by Leonard Kirk (who drew the character in the short-lived/critically acclaimed Captain Britain & MI:13, and Matthew Patel (Ramona Flowers’ first evil ex) by Adrian Alphona (best known for his work on Runaways). Truth be told, a lot of today was a blur. I do remember coming within three seconds of running smack into Nichelle Nichols. In the second I saw her, I recognized “Uhura” by her hair and what I think was a Starfleet insignia necklace.
I did hit one snag, sketch-wise. I came to Greg Hyland (creator of Lethargic Lad) with the concept of the Spaceknight known as ROM in front of the Royal Ontario Museum. In other words, ROM at ROM. Hyland didn’t know what ROM (the character) looked like, but I had the reference ready . . . or I thought I did. Two minutes of rustling in my backpack and totebag (newly acquired for $3, with the Fan Expo logo on it), later, I had to bail. It’s either in my room, I missed it in my bags, or I lost it. Worst case, I’ll find a cheap back issue, and Hyland could work with that.
After getting lost trying to get to the hotel (the Skywalk shuts down at night, which complicates matters), I got to go online in the business center and post my first two blog entries from my flash drive, as well as pictures of the sketched I acquired so far. Going out, I got turned off at the prospect of paying out the butt for dinner. After two restaurants displayed high prices, I wound up wandering to Union Station, where I committed what I believed to be a sin: going to McDonald’s. I mean, I’m in another country, and I’m going for a fast food joint that’s commonplace back home. Granted, going to McDonald’s in Canada isn’t as sad as, say, hitting one in Italy, but I should know better. Worse, I was prepared to get Chicken McNuggets and fries, one night after I had chicken wings and fries at a sports bar. But then I saw that they had the McRib sandwich, and I got that meal instead. I don’t know if that made things better or worse.
I can’t believe it’s after 11 p.m. now, and I’m getting ready to shut down the computer. I didn’t get any calls from Sylvia, though from my brief time online, I saw that she understood why I dropped my would-be rescue plan without telling her first. Between the laptop and the impending hurricane, I’m pretty sure I can’t take much more. Still, I should have a good time in the second half of the convention . . . and here’s hoping that statement doesn’t bite me in the ass.
PS: It's Saturdy morning, and I found out that the damn business center is open from 10-6 . . . meaning if I want optimal online time, I'd have to bail out of the convention and beat feet back to the hotel. In other news, I should probably check myself for bleeding in really inconvient areas.
It’s early afternoon at the Metro Centre. I’m waiting on line to ask Ty Templeton if he could sketch on a blank cover of Daredevil #1. Thinking myself clever, my idea revolves around Daredevil (known as “The Man Without Fear”) riding on top of Man-Thing (tagline: “Those that know fear BURN at the Man-Thing’s touch!”) I get a call from my mother. We exchange words, and then she hits me with the news. Apparently, Hurricane Irene might be heading for the New York area on Sunday. Turns out that Mayor Michael Bloomberg is shutting down the transit system, and the city is getting ready for the worst. That means that there’s a good chance that the airport in Newark might be shut down on Monday. That’s the day I’m supposed to fly back home.
Well fuck my ass again.
I can’t believe it. New York City isn’t a magnet for hurricanes. They’re not as rare as earthquakes, but if one swings by the area, it’s usually classified as a tropical depression. Aside from hoping my mother and grandfather will be okay, I face the grim prospect of having to spend at least one more night in Toronto. Granted, there are worse places to stay, but out of all the possible outcomes, three bad ones keep popping up in my head.
1. I wind up staying at the Fairmont Royal York, but they decide to charge me the full rate for the extra night, as opposed to the affordable-by-comparison convention price I have right now.
2. I call Continental Airlines, and I wind up having to pay full price for a hotel room near the airport. Even if I get a discounted rate, there’s no real tourist stuff I could do without throwing in a long bus trip into the city.
3. Here’s the worst scenario I can think of happening within reason . . . after getting stiffed by the hotel and airline, I wind up being forced to stay at least one night in the airport. Alone. I can nap while sitting down, but I can’t imagine sleeping overnight. I don’t even camp out for real. Would I have to use my full backpack as a pillow, or should I swipe some from the hotel before checking out?
I know that there’s a chance that everything might work out all right, and that I’ll get home to an undamaged house and uninjured mother, but I tend to make mountains out of molehills . . . . then the enlarged moles go in for the kill.
The Mixed Bag Project continued apace, as I wound up paying a little too much for waffles and orange juice at one of the hotel’s restaurants. On the bright side, the OJ didn’t cost $7, or whatever the price of that was at the place I stayed in San Diego two years ago. The convention experience went okay today, though I did do some aimless wandering later in the day. I wound up going to just one panel, centering around DC Comics’ Flashpoint miniseries. I also hit what I thought would be a panel for Supernatural: The Anime Series, but it turned out they were just showing episodes from the DVD without any back-and-forth, and I already saw those episodes. On the sketch front, I got the Daredevil/Man-Thing concept fulfilled by Ty Templeton. I also got sketches of the Face of Boe and Lady Cassandra (from Doctor Who) by Katie Cook, Hawkeye by Valentine DeLandro, Captain Britain by Leonard Kirk (who drew the character in the short-lived/critically acclaimed Captain Britain & MI:13, and Matthew Patel (Ramona Flowers’ first evil ex) by Adrian Alphona (best known for his work on Runaways). Truth be told, a lot of today was a blur. I do remember coming within three seconds of running smack into Nichelle Nichols. In the second I saw her, I recognized “Uhura” by her hair and what I think was a Starfleet insignia necklace.
I did hit one snag, sketch-wise. I came to Greg Hyland (creator of Lethargic Lad) with the concept of the Spaceknight known as ROM in front of the Royal Ontario Museum. In other words, ROM at ROM. Hyland didn’t know what ROM (the character) looked like, but I had the reference ready . . . or I thought I did. Two minutes of rustling in my backpack and totebag (newly acquired for $3, with the Fan Expo logo on it), later, I had to bail. It’s either in my room, I missed it in my bags, or I lost it. Worst case, I’ll find a cheap back issue, and Hyland could work with that.
After getting lost trying to get to the hotel (the Skywalk shuts down at night, which complicates matters), I got to go online in the business center and post my first two blog entries from my flash drive, as well as pictures of the sketched I acquired so far. Going out, I got turned off at the prospect of paying out the butt for dinner. After two restaurants displayed high prices, I wound up wandering to Union Station, where I committed what I believed to be a sin: going to McDonald’s. I mean, I’m in another country, and I’m going for a fast food joint that’s commonplace back home. Granted, going to McDonald’s in Canada isn’t as sad as, say, hitting one in Italy, but I should know better. Worse, I was prepared to get Chicken McNuggets and fries, one night after I had chicken wings and fries at a sports bar. But then I saw that they had the McRib sandwich, and I got that meal instead. I don’t know if that made things better or worse.
I can’t believe it’s after 11 p.m. now, and I’m getting ready to shut down the computer. I didn’t get any calls from Sylvia, though from my brief time online, I saw that she understood why I dropped my would-be rescue plan without telling her first. Between the laptop and the impending hurricane, I’m pretty sure I can’t take much more. Still, I should have a good time in the second half of the convention . . . and here’s hoping that statement doesn’t bite me in the ass.
PS: It's Saturdy morning, and I found out that the damn business center is open from 10-6 . . . meaning if I want optimal online time, I'd have to bail out of the convention and beat feet back to the hotel. In other news, I should probably check myself for bleeding in really inconvient areas.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Jason Vs. The Laptop
Written on Thursday, August 26. Saved on a flash drive and posted from a hotel computer the following day.
This is Night Two in Toronto. I think the running theme so far is “Mixed Bag.” Right now, I am not typing this in my Blogger account, but rather on my laptop’s Microsoft Word program. Why? Funny story . . . yesterday, I was in my room, tapping away about yesterday. As I’m starting the part about the Blue Jays, the Rogers Centre and how it ain’t what it used to be, I get a blue screen with writing on it. A fraction of a second later, it reboots . . . and then I get the blue screen.
Oh. Fuck.
I had this problem before. I think I managed to wave it away by using System Restore, but now it’s back with a vengeance. As a result, I can’t get online anymore. Oh, I can go on the Net from somewhere in the hotel lobby, but I only found out tonight after it shut down. The good news is that by tapping F5, I can get into Safe Mode. The bad news: I can’t get online. I don’t know if it’s not possible to do that in Safe Mode, or if I haven’t checked the right boxes in terms of Firefox and proxy services. Last time that happened, I went to the library, got online, and did all sorts of searches for over an hour. I can probably get about 30 minutes in the hotel . . . and even if I can get on for longer periods, there is a matter of a comic book convention happening nearby. You know, the one I decided to hit as part of my yearly big solo trip.
Also, I can’t seem to get the DVD player to work. Check that . . . EVERY player doesn’t work. The gameplan heading north was that I’d bring one movie I got from the library (Black Dynamite . . . gotta see that before I go to Adult Swim’s website to check out the animated pilot), and a DVD I never got to watching at home (Doctor Who: Planet of the Daleks). But I can’t see either one. Sure, there’s a TV set in my room, but there aren’t channels that I would really want to see. For instance, without MTV Canada, I can’t find out who won The Challenge: Rivals (my guess . . . not Leroy & Mike, because they’re good people, and good people don’t win on that show). No Space means that I have no chance to see the midseason opener for Doctor Who. One bright side is that I’m recording lots of stuff at home that I might miss up there (including the new episodes of Children’s Hospital and NTSF:SD:SUV that are airing on Adult Swim now, which I reckon might pop up on Teletoon, another station I can’t get here). Also, if I’m in my room on Sunday night, I can watch the MTV Video Music Awards, which air on MuchMusic. I actually caught most of that when I was staying with Stephen way back in ’05. Yeah, it would be nice if I gave as big a crap about it as I did in the seemingly-distant past, but it’s a good way to kill three hours. I forget all of the nominees for Best Video, but I’m thinking Katy “Lookit Me, I’m Pretending My High Heel Is a Phone In My Proactiv Commercial!” Perry gets the honor for “Firework.” To beat out “Born This Way” (Lady Gaga) and “Raise Your Glass” (Pink) in the Best Video About How Things Really Do Get Better is a pretty big achievement.
I’m thinking that when I get online tomorrow morning, I’m just going to post whatever was saved on my blog at the time, explain the massive fuck-up, then finish it up with details about Wedneday – the Royals/Blue Jays game, the massive storm that awaited me as I left the Rogers Centre, the lightning hitting the top of the CN Tower at least twice to the awe of onlookers, the fucking honor bar where I’m expected to pay $5.50 if I open a damn bottle of Evian – when I get the time. Right now, I want to talk about today. Once again: Mixed Bag. For instance, I decided not to get an all-day pass, opting for tokens instead. Now I know how the government gets most of their money . . . they cost $3 per, and they are friggin’ teeny and look easy to lose.
I wound up getting to the Royal Ontario Museum. I actually bought a discount ticket from Expedia back in ’07, but dummy that I was, I left it in my hotel room (I just remembered that . . . I told Sylvia that I couldn’t find it, but I remembered the lobby). I wound up paying extra for their big exhibit about . . . water. Yes, for real. They said live animals were involved, and I basically decided that was enough for me. Yes, I am a dope. Worse, I wasn’t allowed to take pictures, so I can’t scan through my camera to jog memories. There were a lot of interactive exhibits, though most of them had kids from camp frantically fooling around with them. It’s not their fault, but that gets annoying fast, especially when you’re grumpy already.
The rest of the trip wasn’t a complete waste. I haven’t been to the Museum of Natural History back home in a long time, but ROM would compare nicely. The textiles exhibit was a snore, though some of the stuff was picture-worthy. I got to see coffins made in Ghana that resembled a Mercedes-Benz and a giant fish. I saw interested work involving Buddhism, ancient Egypt and Rome (including high-quality busts) and lots of stuffed animals. I got to feel a raccoon and a beaver. Back home, seeing a raccoon would bring on a call to Animal Control. I couldn’t take pictures of an exhibit that had Bollywood posters and cards, but I liked it a little more than the one for water. And I checked out the dinosaur and extinct mammals skeletons. You know what I saw? An ancestor of moose. Only in Canada.
As I was running close to the opening of Fan Expo, I figured that I wasn’t going to have time to properly explore Casa Loma, a massive castle in the city. Going into my trip, I wanted to see at least one locale in the city related to the Scott Pilgrim books by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Unbenowest to me at the time, Casa Loma was the place where Lucas Lee (Evil Ex Boyfriend #2, played in the movie by future Captain America star Chris Evans) beat the shit out of Scott. Scott wound up defeating him by tricking the one-time skateboarding star to grind the rails of the long staircase outside. Lucas wound up over 300 kph/hr and killed himself in the process. Yes, that did make the movie . . . but I forgot about that. What did I remember from the books? Honest Ed’s.
In a scene that didn’t make the movie, Scott and Todd Ingram (Evil Ex #3, psychic powers coming from vegan lifestyle, played in the movie by Brandon Routh, who would be considered the worst Superman ever if not for Tom Weilling) did battle at Honest Ed’s, a way-too-big discount store. Both guys were struck at the existential horror that was the overwhelming deals. The fight ended when Todd’s psychic mojo overloaded, imploding Honest Ed’s on top of them. In real life, it’s still up, and it is insane. While I only got some Gummi Life Savers, I can see how it became popular. Apparently, “Honest Ed” Mirvish was a local celebrity, given that the area in Toronto was listed on the map as Mirvish Village. Loads of pictures dotted the walls, with A-list celebrities checking the place out back in the day (one example from 1970: “To Ed, I love your Warehouse! Please come and see mine! [signed,] Liberace”) Signs dot the inside and outside, such as “DON’T JUST STAND THERE!!! BUY SOMETHING!” and “HONEST ED’S HAS HOLES IN HIS SOX! BUT HIS BARGAINS ARE DARNED GOOD!” And for the Scott Pilgrim diehards, there’s the clock hanging over a flight of stairs with a very disturbing deer head on it. I don’t know if it’s real or fake, but it was enough to scar Scott senseless in the book.
After taking a breather in my room, I set out to the Metro Convention Centre. I wound up taking a few detours along the way. On the plus side, not only did I not hit any lines, but I managed to get in before the 4 p.m. opening. I think it was because I paid for my ticket in advance. Sadly, I was too slow to jump on the deluxe package, which includes a badge (wound up getting a bracelet I’m supposed to keep on my wrist until Sunday), a deep carrying bag, use of a VIP room, and other goodies. Once again . . . I’m an idiot.
So far, it’s been a more positive convention than not. Marvel and DC Comics have presences there, meaning that they’ll have talent to sign and sketch for free, which I always like. The Warner Bros. area had the “corpse” of Abin Sur that was used in Green Lantern. As a fan of the superhero (Kyle Rayner, not Hal Jordan), I would’ve had my picture taken of the alien, but I thought that was too morbid. On the downside, the video game booths don’t have demos of Ultimate Marvel Vs. Capcom 3, and I managed to pay $15 for – and immediately lose -- a “logbox” from the anime One Piece. I bought three at AnimeNext a few months back . . . the deal is that you get a random set of parts that you put together to form a diorama from the show. I paid $10 for something similar involving South Park. I think I hit the jackpot . . . I wound up with a what I think is a rare figure of Butters as Professor Chaos with a smaller version of his main minion, General Disarray. Ironically, I printed references of both characters out back home, because I had been getting sketches of characters from the “Coon & Friends” arc (Cartman as The Coon, Kenny as Mysterion, and Mintberry Crunch). I wound up giving the references and figures to Agnes Garbowski, who churned out a really cute sketch in under an hour . . . with color! Before that, I got a good deal from artist Niall Eccles, who did a nice watercolor of Blue Jay (a seldom-seen knockoff of Ant-Man used by DC) with the CN Tower and Rogers Centre in the background. Yes, I thought of that weeks in advance, and I think it’s pretty clever.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention what happened not five minutes into the con for me. My cell phone rings, and I see a familiar number with a Manhattan area code. Turns out it’s the temp agency where I’m registered. The guy found a customer service gig in Long Island City. While it would be a long commute, I would stand to make the most money per hour than I’ve ever gotten. My resume is being sent, so I have that going on for me.
That’s about all for tonight. I’m a little chafed, and the laptop problem is aggravating the hell out of me, but I’m hanging in there. If I can make it without the laptop exploding in my face or getting struck by lightning, I will be in good shape. Here’s hoping, right?
This is Night Two in Toronto. I think the running theme so far is “Mixed Bag.” Right now, I am not typing this in my Blogger account, but rather on my laptop’s Microsoft Word program. Why? Funny story . . . yesterday, I was in my room, tapping away about yesterday. As I’m starting the part about the Blue Jays, the Rogers Centre and how it ain’t what it used to be, I get a blue screen with writing on it. A fraction of a second later, it reboots . . . and then I get the blue screen.
Oh. Fuck.
I had this problem before. I think I managed to wave it away by using System Restore, but now it’s back with a vengeance. As a result, I can’t get online anymore. Oh, I can go on the Net from somewhere in the hotel lobby, but I only found out tonight after it shut down. The good news is that by tapping F5, I can get into Safe Mode. The bad news: I can’t get online. I don’t know if it’s not possible to do that in Safe Mode, or if I haven’t checked the right boxes in terms of Firefox and proxy services. Last time that happened, I went to the library, got online, and did all sorts of searches for over an hour. I can probably get about 30 minutes in the hotel . . . and even if I can get on for longer periods, there is a matter of a comic book convention happening nearby. You know, the one I decided to hit as part of my yearly big solo trip.
Also, I can’t seem to get the DVD player to work. Check that . . . EVERY player doesn’t work. The gameplan heading north was that I’d bring one movie I got from the library (Black Dynamite . . . gotta see that before I go to Adult Swim’s website to check out the animated pilot), and a DVD I never got to watching at home (Doctor Who: Planet of the Daleks). But I can’t see either one. Sure, there’s a TV set in my room, but there aren’t channels that I would really want to see. For instance, without MTV Canada, I can’t find out who won The Challenge: Rivals (my guess . . . not Leroy & Mike, because they’re good people, and good people don’t win on that show). No Space means that I have no chance to see the midseason opener for Doctor Who. One bright side is that I’m recording lots of stuff at home that I might miss up there (including the new episodes of Children’s Hospital and NTSF:SD:SUV that are airing on Adult Swim now, which I reckon might pop up on Teletoon, another station I can’t get here). Also, if I’m in my room on Sunday night, I can watch the MTV Video Music Awards, which air on MuchMusic. I actually caught most of that when I was staying with Stephen way back in ’05. Yeah, it would be nice if I gave as big a crap about it as I did in the seemingly-distant past, but it’s a good way to kill three hours. I forget all of the nominees for Best Video, but I’m thinking Katy “Lookit Me, I’m Pretending My High Heel Is a Phone In My Proactiv Commercial!” Perry gets the honor for “Firework.” To beat out “Born This Way” (Lady Gaga) and “Raise Your Glass” (Pink) in the Best Video About How Things Really Do Get Better is a pretty big achievement.
I’m thinking that when I get online tomorrow morning, I’m just going to post whatever was saved on my blog at the time, explain the massive fuck-up, then finish it up with details about Wedneday – the Royals/Blue Jays game, the massive storm that awaited me as I left the Rogers Centre, the lightning hitting the top of the CN Tower at least twice to the awe of onlookers, the fucking honor bar where I’m expected to pay $5.50 if I open a damn bottle of Evian – when I get the time. Right now, I want to talk about today. Once again: Mixed Bag. For instance, I decided not to get an all-day pass, opting for tokens instead. Now I know how the government gets most of their money . . . they cost $3 per, and they are friggin’ teeny and look easy to lose.
I wound up getting to the Royal Ontario Museum. I actually bought a discount ticket from Expedia back in ’07, but dummy that I was, I left it in my hotel room (I just remembered that . . . I told Sylvia that I couldn’t find it, but I remembered the lobby). I wound up paying extra for their big exhibit about . . . water. Yes, for real. They said live animals were involved, and I basically decided that was enough for me. Yes, I am a dope. Worse, I wasn’t allowed to take pictures, so I can’t scan through my camera to jog memories. There were a lot of interactive exhibits, though most of them had kids from camp frantically fooling around with them. It’s not their fault, but that gets annoying fast, especially when you’re grumpy already.
The rest of the trip wasn’t a complete waste. I haven’t been to the Museum of Natural History back home in a long time, but ROM would compare nicely. The textiles exhibit was a snore, though some of the stuff was picture-worthy. I got to see coffins made in Ghana that resembled a Mercedes-Benz and a giant fish. I saw interested work involving Buddhism, ancient Egypt and Rome (including high-quality busts) and lots of stuffed animals. I got to feel a raccoon and a beaver. Back home, seeing a raccoon would bring on a call to Animal Control. I couldn’t take pictures of an exhibit that had Bollywood posters and cards, but I liked it a little more than the one for water. And I checked out the dinosaur and extinct mammals skeletons. You know what I saw? An ancestor of moose. Only in Canada.
As I was running close to the opening of Fan Expo, I figured that I wasn’t going to have time to properly explore Casa Loma, a massive castle in the city. Going into my trip, I wanted to see at least one locale in the city related to the Scott Pilgrim books by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Unbenowest to me at the time, Casa Loma was the place where Lucas Lee (Evil Ex Boyfriend #2, played in the movie by future Captain America star Chris Evans) beat the shit out of Scott. Scott wound up defeating him by tricking the one-time skateboarding star to grind the rails of the long staircase outside. Lucas wound up over 300 kph/hr and killed himself in the process. Yes, that did make the movie . . . but I forgot about that. What did I remember from the books? Honest Ed’s.
In a scene that didn’t make the movie, Scott and Todd Ingram (Evil Ex #3, psychic powers coming from vegan lifestyle, played in the movie by Brandon Routh, who would be considered the worst Superman ever if not for Tom Weilling) did battle at Honest Ed’s, a way-too-big discount store. Both guys were struck at the existential horror that was the overwhelming deals. The fight ended when Todd’s psychic mojo overloaded, imploding Honest Ed’s on top of them. In real life, it’s still up, and it is insane. While I only got some Gummi Life Savers, I can see how it became popular. Apparently, “Honest Ed” Mirvish was a local celebrity, given that the area in Toronto was listed on the map as Mirvish Village. Loads of pictures dotted the walls, with A-list celebrities checking the place out back in the day (one example from 1970: “To Ed, I love your Warehouse! Please come and see mine! [signed,] Liberace”) Signs dot the inside and outside, such as “DON’T JUST STAND THERE!!! BUY SOMETHING!” and “HONEST ED’S HAS HOLES IN HIS SOX! BUT HIS BARGAINS ARE DARNED GOOD!” And for the Scott Pilgrim diehards, there’s the clock hanging over a flight of stairs with a very disturbing deer head on it. I don’t know if it’s real or fake, but it was enough to scar Scott senseless in the book.
After taking a breather in my room, I set out to the Metro Convention Centre. I wound up taking a few detours along the way. On the plus side, not only did I not hit any lines, but I managed to get in before the 4 p.m. opening. I think it was because I paid for my ticket in advance. Sadly, I was too slow to jump on the deluxe package, which includes a badge (wound up getting a bracelet I’m supposed to keep on my wrist until Sunday), a deep carrying bag, use of a VIP room, and other goodies. Once again . . . I’m an idiot.
So far, it’s been a more positive convention than not. Marvel and DC Comics have presences there, meaning that they’ll have talent to sign and sketch for free, which I always like. The Warner Bros. area had the “corpse” of Abin Sur that was used in Green Lantern. As a fan of the superhero (Kyle Rayner, not Hal Jordan), I would’ve had my picture taken of the alien, but I thought that was too morbid. On the downside, the video game booths don’t have demos of Ultimate Marvel Vs. Capcom 3, and I managed to pay $15 for – and immediately lose -- a “logbox” from the anime One Piece. I bought three at AnimeNext a few months back . . . the deal is that you get a random set of parts that you put together to form a diorama from the show. I paid $10 for something similar involving South Park. I think I hit the jackpot . . . I wound up with a what I think is a rare figure of Butters as Professor Chaos with a smaller version of his main minion, General Disarray. Ironically, I printed references of both characters out back home, because I had been getting sketches of characters from the “Coon & Friends” arc (Cartman as The Coon, Kenny as Mysterion, and Mintberry Crunch). I wound up giving the references and figures to Agnes Garbowski, who churned out a really cute sketch in under an hour . . . with color! Before that, I got a good deal from artist Niall Eccles, who did a nice watercolor of Blue Jay (a seldom-seen knockoff of Ant-Man used by DC) with the CN Tower and Rogers Centre in the background. Yes, I thought of that weeks in advance, and I think it’s pretty clever.
Oh, and I almost forgot to mention what happened not five minutes into the con for me. My cell phone rings, and I see a familiar number with a Manhattan area code. Turns out it’s the temp agency where I’m registered. The guy found a customer service gig in Long Island City. While it would be a long commute, I would stand to make the most money per hour than I’ve ever gotten. My resume is being sent, so I have that going on for me.
That’s about all for tonight. I’m a little chafed, and the laptop problem is aggravating the hell out of me, but I’m hanging in there. If I can make it without the laptop exploding in my face or getting struck by lightning, I will be in good shape. Here’s hoping, right?
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Jason Vs. Toronto: Day One
Today was very interesting.
After spending last night printing out too many references for sketches, I wound up getting less sleep than I should have gotten. I got up before 6 a.m. and I managed to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare. The flight itself wasn't eventful, though it was raining a little as I stepped off the plane outside. The first hiccup came when I picked up my luggage and was getting ready to exit the airport, when I couldn't find the document I had to fill out on the plane and show to the customs agent. Where was it? Right . . . in the men's room, inside the book I put it in.
The cab dropped me off at the Fairmont Royal York . . . or what I thought was the Fairmont Royal York. Turns out I blundered into the Toronto underground, passing the guest elevator in the process. By the time I figured that I screwed up, I had to carry my backpack, laptop bag and luggage up a flight of stairs because the escalator going up was out of service. By the time I got to check in at the lobby, I was a sweaty mess . . . and that's where I met Sylvia.
Sylvia is a regular on the Television Without Pity forums (screenname: keeptrying). We met in the "Meet Market" in the forum devoted to [i]Heroes[/i], and we stayed in touch off the board as well. She's originally from the Pacific Northwest, and she's been in Toronto for about eight years. Her husband is originally from France. Somehow, I think they make for an ideal yet quirky Canadian couple. Anyway, she had seen enough pictures of me to know what I looked like. I managed to get to my room in time to unload a little and change shirts, because I was that sweaty. It wasn't that hot out, but I had done a lot of walking while carrying some serious weight. I'll talk about the room a little later.
We wound up doing a lot of walking and talking, where we compared life stories, views on reality television, and all sorts of other stuff. We had lunch in a market that kind of reminded me of the Reading Market in Philadelphia. I stupidly wound up with tuna sashimi with no rice and an expensive bottle of Diet Coke (gotta remember it's "pop" up here). The original plan was to hit the Royal Ontario Museum (which was on my itinerary in 2007), but I brought up the Silver Snail comic shop, and we took a detour there. By the time we arrive at the ROM, it was about 90 minutes to closing. We wound up chatting outside before walking back to the hotel, where she decided that she had to head for home. I wish we got to spend more time together, but I did enjoy her a lot. Given what would happen later, I'd say she made the smart move.
I wanted to explore Rogers Centre, but I just had to sit in the lobby and read my comics. By the time I got away from losing a game of line roulette, a lady was singing the American and Canadian national anthems. There were a lot of options for food, but I wound up paying $9.75 for a mutant foot-long hot dog cover in baked beans and crumpled bacon. Cheddar cheese was also involved, but I didn't want that. I wound up paying $46 for a front row seat . . . and when I asked the ticket lady for the best possible seat, she delivered. I wound up in the first row. I haven't been that close to the field since I went to see the Staten Island Yankees play. Granted, I paid about a fourth of what I shelled out in colorful Canadian dough, but it was a good seat. First thought: "Wow, I could get a foul ball!" Second thought: "Shit, I could get killed by a line drive!"
Rogers Centre (the complex formerly known as SkyDome) ain't as imposing as it used to be. Sure, the retractable roof set the golden standard (and shamed the hell out of Montreal's Olympic Stadium), but then came Orioles Park at Camden Yards and the other new stadiums that embraced the retro vibe. I was a little cramped in my seat, with no cupholder to put my soda. There was a narrow ledge where I could put my camera, but it was too small for the hot dog and soda. I could've put stuff on the barrier in front of me, but I think that would've been frowned upon.
Writer's Note: It's Friday. Why did I stop here? Because my damn laptop went ka-fucking-blooey, and this was what Blogspot could save. I'll write about my Rogers Centre experience once I get things straightened out at home.
After spending last night printing out too many references for sketches, I wound up getting less sleep than I should have gotten. I got up before 6 a.m. and I managed to get to the airport with plenty of time to spare. The flight itself wasn't eventful, though it was raining a little as I stepped off the plane outside. The first hiccup came when I picked up my luggage and was getting ready to exit the airport, when I couldn't find the document I had to fill out on the plane and show to the customs agent. Where was it? Right . . . in the men's room, inside the book I put it in.
The cab dropped me off at the Fairmont Royal York . . . or what I thought was the Fairmont Royal York. Turns out I blundered into the Toronto underground, passing the guest elevator in the process. By the time I figured that I screwed up, I had to carry my backpack, laptop bag and luggage up a flight of stairs because the escalator going up was out of service. By the time I got to check in at the lobby, I was a sweaty mess . . . and that's where I met Sylvia.
Sylvia is a regular on the Television Without Pity forums (screenname: keeptrying). We met in the "Meet Market" in the forum devoted to [i]Heroes[/i], and we stayed in touch off the board as well. She's originally from the Pacific Northwest, and she's been in Toronto for about eight years. Her husband is originally from France. Somehow, I think they make for an ideal yet quirky Canadian couple. Anyway, she had seen enough pictures of me to know what I looked like. I managed to get to my room in time to unload a little and change shirts, because I was that sweaty. It wasn't that hot out, but I had done a lot of walking while carrying some serious weight. I'll talk about the room a little later.
We wound up doing a lot of walking and talking, where we compared life stories, views on reality television, and all sorts of other stuff. We had lunch in a market that kind of reminded me of the Reading Market in Philadelphia. I stupidly wound up with tuna sashimi with no rice and an expensive bottle of Diet Coke (gotta remember it's "pop" up here). The original plan was to hit the Royal Ontario Museum (which was on my itinerary in 2007), but I brought up the Silver Snail comic shop, and we took a detour there. By the time we arrive at the ROM, it was about 90 minutes to closing. We wound up chatting outside before walking back to the hotel, where she decided that she had to head for home. I wish we got to spend more time together, but I did enjoy her a lot. Given what would happen later, I'd say she made the smart move.
I wanted to explore Rogers Centre, but I just had to sit in the lobby and read my comics. By the time I got away from losing a game of line roulette, a lady was singing the American and Canadian national anthems. There were a lot of options for food, but I wound up paying $9.75 for a mutant foot-long hot dog cover in baked beans and crumpled bacon. Cheddar cheese was also involved, but I didn't want that. I wound up paying $46 for a front row seat . . . and when I asked the ticket lady for the best possible seat, she delivered. I wound up in the first row. I haven't been that close to the field since I went to see the Staten Island Yankees play. Granted, I paid about a fourth of what I shelled out in colorful Canadian dough, but it was a good seat. First thought: "Wow, I could get a foul ball!" Second thought: "Shit, I could get killed by a line drive!"
Rogers Centre (the complex formerly known as SkyDome) ain't as imposing as it used to be. Sure, the retractable roof set the golden standard (and shamed the hell out of Montreal's Olympic Stadium), but then came Orioles Park at Camden Yards and the other new stadiums that embraced the retro vibe. I was a little cramped in my seat, with no cupholder to put my soda. There was a narrow ledge where I could put my camera, but it was too small for the hot dog and soda. I could've put stuff on the barrier in front of me, but I think that would've been frowned upon.
Writer's Note: It's Friday. Why did I stop here? Because my damn laptop went ka-fucking-blooey, and this was what Blogspot could save. I'll write about my Rogers Centre experience once I get things straightened out at home.
Jason Vs. The Toronto: Prelude
This afternoon, there was an earthquake in central Virginia. The tremor hit 5.9 on the Richter Scale, and could actually be felt in New York, a major city that isn't used to quakes. How did I react? I didn't I left home, went to Walgreens, picked up a box of chocolate, drove to the nursing home, signed in, walked up a flight of stairs, met my grandfather, and then I heard about the quake at 2 p.m. At no point did I feel anything was up. Neither did Grandpa. Some of the residents and workers, however, did feel it, as well as my mother working in Manhattan.
Why am I talking about this? Tomorrow, I am flying out to Toronto for my annual major comic book convention trip, and I reckon that I lucked into getting the heck out of Dodge at exactly the right time. May that last sentence not bite me in the ass in the next six days.
Granted, going to Fan Expo Canada wasn't my first choice. After getting a round-trip airline voucher for my birthday, I set out to hit Geek Mecca: Comic-Con International in San Diego. Or is it San Diego Comic-Con? Anyway, getting into the show has gotten even more problematic since I last went there in 2009. Four day passes with the Wednesday "Preview Night" sold out at the convention in the previous year, so I tried to get the Thursday-Sunday package, and that ended with me staying home on a Saturday, hitting F5 over and over, trying my damnedest to get through the online traffic. Needless to say, it didn't work. It was probably for the best, because last time, my batteries died out around Saturday, and I would up wandering the aisles like a zombie on Sunday.
What were my other options? I could go back to Chicago for C2E2 for the second year in a row, but that was in March . . . too early in the year for my tastes. That also disqualified WonderCon in San Francisco, hosted by the CCI guys. I went to HeroesCon in Charlotte back in 2008, but I didn't get to do much in the city. Also, while the con strikes a good balance between big names and indie talent, it was too mellow for my tastes. Wizard has several cons scattered all over the country, including one in Chicago in August . . . but it's become more about popular media and less about comics and comic talent. The logical choice? Fan Expo.
I've been there twice. The first time, I stayed with my friend Stephen in the suburbs and wound up having a good time at the con and doing the tourism thing. I came back two years later, but I didn't do any real sightseeing. The big kicker that year came on the final day, where it dawned on me that I lost my sketchbook. A short time later, I realized that I lost my camcorder as well. I was a broken mess getting from the Metro Convention Centre back to my hotel room. I wound up getting my sketchbook back about a week later . . . lucky for me, I put my e-mail address there. I never did get my camcorder back, but that was a small price I was willing to pay.
Here's the gameplan: I'll be flying out tomorrow around 10 a.m. Sadly, that means getting up before 6 a.m. and getting car service around 6:30, since international flights require getting to the airport three hours in advance. Getting to Toronto early means playing tourist for a bit, followed by taking in a Blue Jays game. Before the con starts on Thursday (it's been extended by a day this year), I'll see some more stuff. I don't have any set schedule . . . I'm going to make it up as I go along, and I should have fun along the way. And I'll be going over the adventure here as well. Here's hoping I keep all of my stuff where I can find it this time around.
PS: Did I mention I'm wrapping this up around 12:30 a.m. on Tuesday? Looks like I'm going to see if a terminal is a good place to catch a few z's.
Adventures In Toronto 2005
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four & Conclusion
Why am I talking about this? Tomorrow, I am flying out to Toronto for my annual major comic book convention trip, and I reckon that I lucked into getting the heck out of Dodge at exactly the right time. May that last sentence not bite me in the ass in the next six days.
Granted, going to Fan Expo Canada wasn't my first choice. After getting a round-trip airline voucher for my birthday, I set out to hit Geek Mecca: Comic-Con International in San Diego. Or is it San Diego Comic-Con? Anyway, getting into the show has gotten even more problematic since I last went there in 2009. Four day passes with the Wednesday "Preview Night" sold out at the convention in the previous year, so I tried to get the Thursday-Sunday package, and that ended with me staying home on a Saturday, hitting F5 over and over, trying my damnedest to get through the online traffic. Needless to say, it didn't work. It was probably for the best, because last time, my batteries died out around Saturday, and I would up wandering the aisles like a zombie on Sunday.
What were my other options? I could go back to Chicago for C2E2 for the second year in a row, but that was in March . . . too early in the year for my tastes. That also disqualified WonderCon in San Francisco, hosted by the CCI guys. I went to HeroesCon in Charlotte back in 2008, but I didn't get to do much in the city. Also, while the con strikes a good balance between big names and indie talent, it was too mellow for my tastes. Wizard has several cons scattered all over the country, including one in Chicago in August . . . but it's become more about popular media and less about comics and comic talent. The logical choice? Fan Expo.
I've been there twice. The first time, I stayed with my friend Stephen in the suburbs and wound up having a good time at the con and doing the tourism thing. I came back two years later, but I didn't do any real sightseeing. The big kicker that year came on the final day, where it dawned on me that I lost my sketchbook. A short time later, I realized that I lost my camcorder as well. I was a broken mess getting from the Metro Convention Centre back to my hotel room. I wound up getting my sketchbook back about a week later . . . lucky for me, I put my e-mail address there. I never did get my camcorder back, but that was a small price I was willing to pay.
Here's the gameplan: I'll be flying out tomorrow around 10 a.m. Sadly, that means getting up before 6 a.m. and getting car service around 6:30, since international flights require getting to the airport three hours in advance. Getting to Toronto early means playing tourist for a bit, followed by taking in a Blue Jays game. Before the con starts on Thursday (it's been extended by a day this year), I'll see some more stuff. I don't have any set schedule . . . I'm going to make it up as I go along, and I should have fun along the way. And I'll be going over the adventure here as well. Here's hoping I keep all of my stuff where I can find it this time around.
PS: Did I mention I'm wrapping this up around 12:30 a.m. on Tuesday? Looks like I'm going to see if a terminal is a good place to catch a few z's.
Adventures In Toronto 2005
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four & Conclusion
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Island of No "Redemption"
Have you ever meant to do something, only to put it off over and over until it was too late? I kept meaning to write an essay on the carwreck that is Survivor: Redemption Island, firing salvo after salvo at perhaps the worst idea the show has ever had. But as I start to write this, it's less than 90 minutes until the finale starts up, so I'll just cover the bare bones.
If Rob Wins, The Show Is Broken
This is his fourth time on the show. Now, you're probably thinking, "Dude, you're the one that watches Real World/Road Rules Challenge. What's the difference between Rob and another Boston-born troglodyte like CT?" The difference is that with each season, Bunim-Murray Productions switches up the format . . . Gauntlets, Infernos, Duels, Battles of the Sexes, etc. Survivor is still the same game, even as its DNA continues to mutate. If you take Richard Hatch from 2000 and plop him in the current season, there's no guarantee that he would win. But I feel that Rob has been on the show long enough to know what to do, and the people around him are too stupid to make a move against him. Of course, there's probably a thought balloon above each player's head with he/she in a final three alongside Rob and Phillip, but I don't think it's a guaranteed win like it would have been if Russell was crammed into Rob's place. Basically, Rob playing the game is like watching a .290 hitter in his mid-30s destroy a Little League team. It's just not fun to watch. And since he's still considered popular, not only would I not rule out him returning to this show, I fully expect CBS to send large men named "Rocky," "Knuckles" and "Tiny" to the producers of The Amazing Race, in order to "convince" them to have them on the next all-star season, which I expect to happen in its twentifh
(Tangent: Turns out Rob will be starring in Around The World In 80 Ways on History Channel, where he and Dennis Anderson (creator of the monster truck Gravedigger) will be taking eighty modes of transportation without repeating a vehicle. Here's my question: What about Amber? She was roughly seven months pregnant when Redemption Island was filming, and now she'll be alone with her two daughters for a few more months. Can't Rob get any kind of job that's close to home? I'm not asking him to work construction again, but it just seems like grounds for divorce, even if Amber still loves the big dope.)
If Somebody From Redemption Island Wins, The Show Is Broken
We went through this years ago with Pearl Islands, when Burton and Lillian got back into the game and got far, with Lil finishing runner-up to winner Sandra. I just don't care about Redemption Island, in the sense that we don't spend enough time seeing how they cope with minimal rations. A win from Andrea, Grant or Mike might not get as many asterisks as Rob, but there's the stigma of being voted out that would still remain. It would've been on Lil even if she had taken Jon into Day 39 with her and won (since that guy was basically pralines 'n' dick), though that would've been a happy ending. Instead, she took Sandra, and most of the jury members took turns whacking her fragile ego like a pinata . . . including Rupert, who's supposed to be a loveable lug.
If Matt Wins, The Show Is Really Broken
He got voted out of Ometepe on Day 5, got sent to Redemption Island, wound up beating six people to stay in the game, got sent back into the game on Day 19 . . . and wound up getting voted off on Day 21. But since "Redemption Island" is in the show's title, he got sent back there, where he slowly began to lose his sanity, relying on God more and more. How back was it? Put it this way: when the RI inhabitants got the sponsor phone with pictures of their loved ones, I wouldn't have been shocked to see Jesus popping up for Matt. But seriously . . . he got voted off. TWICE. Not only should he have gone straight to the jury after the second vote, he should have been forced to wear a dunce hat until Day 39. Even though Burton and Lillian were granted one-time immunity when they got back in the game in time for the first individual immunity challenge, they had to wheel and deal to stay in favor with the others. Matt went up to Rob and told him that he was getting his vote. As Shii Ann Huang (or cartoonist Jeff Smith) might put it: "Stupid Matt! Stupid, stupid Matt!"
If Phillip Wins, The End Of The World Might Be Nigh
Here's what passes for logic in Phillip's head: He plays up acting like an asshole to the point where Rob decides to use him as a surfboard to coast towards a win. And apparently, on Day 39, he will convince the jury to give him the million bucks. Short of dousing the jury with a gas that makes people lose an entire month's worth of memories, how the hell can he pull it off? He has pissed off everybody at one point or another. He turned an argument about rice with Steve into a race issue, dropping The Word White People Should Never Ever Use over and over again. Phillip is even more delusional that Benjamin "Coach" Wade, and I didn't even think that was possible. And it has nothing to do with race. If the NAACP or another like-minded organization urged people to boycott Survivor because of the casting of Phillip and Naonka, could you blame them?
(Tangent: I can't believe that Phillip's sister was normal. Given his penchant of wearing a feather on his head, I expected her to come out with a headdress made up of pigeon feathers. In retrospect, another possible look would have been her wearing a stained straitjacket, with an oversized Napoleon-style hat that had a giant "N" emblazoned on the front.)
If Anybody Else Wins, The Show Is Broken
I can't see anybody but Rob winning, because that's how the editing has gone. I will say that I thought Kisha & Jen would be the last team eliminated from The Amazing Race: Unfinished Business because they didn't get enough airtime, so I could be wrong on this. I also figured Zev & Justin would win, and that the editors would cram in a Katy Perry song into the final episode for the third season in a row. My reasoning about things sucking should Natalie (who was ten years old when Rob first played) or Ashley winning is that the game has been less about being the best, and more about sucking the least. Remember Natalie from Samoa? Even with Russell being the big kahuna, his lack of social graces (he's probably allergic to grace) turned the show into one long game of Hot Potato. Last season yielded the same result, with a goober nicknamed "Fabio" winning the $1 million. Whatever happened to the epic Ozzy vs. Yul finale, or Tom and Ian staying on posts for twelve hours? People complain about TAR going downhill in quality, but I feel it's a genre-wide problem, and Survivor is far from immune. No matter what happens, Mark Burnett and his crew should go back to the drawing board.
Before I go, I posted on Television Without Pity on what I expect from tonight's reunion special. Last season, we bottomed out with Jeff Probst giving lap dances to Jimmy Johnson and Terry Bradshaw. What will we see tonight?
1. Probst gives love to Rob for his win, giving scant attention to the other two finalists. The name "Susan Lucci" will be brought up, even though she did win a Daytime Emmy years ago.
2. After commercials, Probst gives love to Rob again, as he finally wins a million bucks. Amber gets camera time and a few lines. One or both daughters will be shoved in front of the camera.
3. Probst gives love to Russell. Members of the Zapatera tribe are given a token chance to explain why they voted him out, but Probst will favor Russell no matter what, and it will be embarrassing. Russell will embarrass himself a lot, since this will be the only camera time he will get this evening.
4. Probst gives love to Phillip, calling him "one of the most controversial players we've ever had" or "one of the most colorful players we've ever had." Phillip doesn't get booed that much (maybe by three percent of the crowd), and he fails to explain the crazy. Steve is brought into the conversation to "defend" himself in RiceRaceWarGate, but Phillip will not back down. His sister will defend him, but it will be for naught.
5. Probst reluctantly starts pointing out the other players, spotlighting those stuck on Redemption Island. Matt gets the most time, since he's spent forever in limbo. Over/Under of mentions of God: 4.
6. Probst reveals the winner of the $100,000 fan vote. Rob wins in a landslide, because hey, why not? Rob fails to thank the casting people for stacking the deck so heavily in his favor, or Mark Burnett for the sweet appearance fee, which Russell also got.
7. Getting the "Wrap it up quick, we gotta get plowed at the nearby bar and get the taste of this shitty, shitty season out of our mouths" signal, Probst halfheartedly goes over some of the players. Over/Under of how many people get ignored: 6. Over/Under of how many jury members get ignored: 3.5.
8. Probst "previews" the next season. It will be big. It will have surprises. It will turn out to be slightly better than this season. Barely.
9. Probst wraps it up with the "we're auctioning off stuff for charity" spiel, and bids us goodnight.
Will things play out the way I've said? I'd say no, but in this predictable season, I wouldn't rule it out. Also, I feel that it might be a matter of time before an EMS crew is called in to pry Probst's lips from Rob's buttocks. His buttocks if we're lucky.
If Rob Wins, The Show Is Broken
This is his fourth time on the show. Now, you're probably thinking, "Dude, you're the one that watches Real World/Road Rules Challenge. What's the difference between Rob and another Boston-born troglodyte like CT?" The difference is that with each season, Bunim-Murray Productions switches up the format . . . Gauntlets, Infernos, Duels, Battles of the Sexes, etc. Survivor is still the same game, even as its DNA continues to mutate. If you take Richard Hatch from 2000 and plop him in the current season, there's no guarantee that he would win. But I feel that Rob has been on the show long enough to know what to do, and the people around him are too stupid to make a move against him. Of course, there's probably a thought balloon above each player's head with he/she in a final three alongside Rob and Phillip, but I don't think it's a guaranteed win like it would have been if Russell was crammed into Rob's place. Basically, Rob playing the game is like watching a .290 hitter in his mid-30s destroy a Little League team. It's just not fun to watch. And since he's still considered popular, not only would I not rule out him returning to this show, I fully expect CBS to send large men named "Rocky," "Knuckles" and "Tiny" to the producers of The Amazing Race, in order to "convince" them to have them on the next all-star season, which I expect to happen in its twentifh
(Tangent: Turns out Rob will be starring in Around The World In 80 Ways on History Channel, where he and Dennis Anderson (creator of the monster truck Gravedigger) will be taking eighty modes of transportation without repeating a vehicle. Here's my question: What about Amber? She was roughly seven months pregnant when Redemption Island was filming, and now she'll be alone with her two daughters for a few more months. Can't Rob get any kind of job that's close to home? I'm not asking him to work construction again, but it just seems like grounds for divorce, even if Amber still loves the big dope.)
If Somebody From Redemption Island Wins, The Show Is Broken
We went through this years ago with Pearl Islands, when Burton and Lillian got back into the game and got far, with Lil finishing runner-up to winner Sandra. I just don't care about Redemption Island, in the sense that we don't spend enough time seeing how they cope with minimal rations. A win from Andrea, Grant or Mike might not get as many asterisks as Rob, but there's the stigma of being voted out that would still remain. It would've been on Lil even if she had taken Jon into Day 39 with her and won (since that guy was basically pralines 'n' dick), though that would've been a happy ending. Instead, she took Sandra, and most of the jury members took turns whacking her fragile ego like a pinata . . . including Rupert, who's supposed to be a loveable lug.
If Matt Wins, The Show Is Really Broken
He got voted out of Ometepe on Day 5, got sent to Redemption Island, wound up beating six people to stay in the game, got sent back into the game on Day 19 . . . and wound up getting voted off on Day 21. But since "Redemption Island" is in the show's title, he got sent back there, where he slowly began to lose his sanity, relying on God more and more. How back was it? Put it this way: when the RI inhabitants got the sponsor phone with pictures of their loved ones, I wouldn't have been shocked to see Jesus popping up for Matt. But seriously . . . he got voted off. TWICE. Not only should he have gone straight to the jury after the second vote, he should have been forced to wear a dunce hat until Day 39. Even though Burton and Lillian were granted one-time immunity when they got back in the game in time for the first individual immunity challenge, they had to wheel and deal to stay in favor with the others. Matt went up to Rob and told him that he was getting his vote. As Shii Ann Huang (or cartoonist Jeff Smith) might put it: "Stupid Matt! Stupid, stupid Matt!"
If Phillip Wins, The End Of The World Might Be Nigh
Here's what passes for logic in Phillip's head: He plays up acting like an asshole to the point where Rob decides to use him as a surfboard to coast towards a win. And apparently, on Day 39, he will convince the jury to give him the million bucks. Short of dousing the jury with a gas that makes people lose an entire month's worth of memories, how the hell can he pull it off? He has pissed off everybody at one point or another. He turned an argument about rice with Steve into a race issue, dropping The Word White People Should Never Ever Use over and over again. Phillip is even more delusional that Benjamin "Coach" Wade, and I didn't even think that was possible. And it has nothing to do with race. If the NAACP or another like-minded organization urged people to boycott Survivor because of the casting of Phillip and Naonka, could you blame them?
(Tangent: I can't believe that Phillip's sister was normal. Given his penchant of wearing a feather on his head, I expected her to come out with a headdress made up of pigeon feathers. In retrospect, another possible look would have been her wearing a stained straitjacket, with an oversized Napoleon-style hat that had a giant "N" emblazoned on the front.)
If Anybody Else Wins, The Show Is Broken
I can't see anybody but Rob winning, because that's how the editing has gone. I will say that I thought Kisha & Jen would be the last team eliminated from The Amazing Race: Unfinished Business because they didn't get enough airtime, so I could be wrong on this. I also figured Zev & Justin would win, and that the editors would cram in a Katy Perry song into the final episode for the third season in a row. My reasoning about things sucking should Natalie (who was ten years old when Rob first played) or Ashley winning is that the game has been less about being the best, and more about sucking the least. Remember Natalie from Samoa? Even with Russell being the big kahuna, his lack of social graces (he's probably allergic to grace) turned the show into one long game of Hot Potato. Last season yielded the same result, with a goober nicknamed "Fabio" winning the $1 million. Whatever happened to the epic Ozzy vs. Yul finale, or Tom and Ian staying on posts for twelve hours? People complain about TAR going downhill in quality, but I feel it's a genre-wide problem, and Survivor is far from immune. No matter what happens, Mark Burnett and his crew should go back to the drawing board.
Before I go, I posted on Television Without Pity on what I expect from tonight's reunion special. Last season, we bottomed out with Jeff Probst giving lap dances to Jimmy Johnson and Terry Bradshaw. What will we see tonight?
1. Probst gives love to Rob for his win, giving scant attention to the other two finalists. The name "Susan Lucci" will be brought up, even though she did win a Daytime Emmy years ago.
2. After commercials, Probst gives love to Rob again, as he finally wins a million bucks. Amber gets camera time and a few lines. One or both daughters will be shoved in front of the camera.
3. Probst gives love to Russell. Members of the Zapatera tribe are given a token chance to explain why they voted him out, but Probst will favor Russell no matter what, and it will be embarrassing. Russell will embarrass himself a lot, since this will be the only camera time he will get this evening.
4. Probst gives love to Phillip, calling him "one of the most controversial players we've ever had" or "one of the most colorful players we've ever had." Phillip doesn't get booed that much (maybe by three percent of the crowd), and he fails to explain the crazy. Steve is brought into the conversation to "defend" himself in RiceRaceWarGate, but Phillip will not back down. His sister will defend him, but it will be for naught.
5. Probst reluctantly starts pointing out the other players, spotlighting those stuck on Redemption Island. Matt gets the most time, since he's spent forever in limbo. Over/Under of mentions of God: 4.
6. Probst reveals the winner of the $100,000 fan vote. Rob wins in a landslide, because hey, why not? Rob fails to thank the casting people for stacking the deck so heavily in his favor, or Mark Burnett for the sweet appearance fee, which Russell also got.
7. Getting the "Wrap it up quick, we gotta get plowed at the nearby bar and get the taste of this shitty, shitty season out of our mouths" signal, Probst halfheartedly goes over some of the players. Over/Under of how many people get ignored: 6. Over/Under of how many jury members get ignored: 3.5.
8. Probst "previews" the next season. It will be big. It will have surprises. It will turn out to be slightly better than this season. Barely.
9. Probst wraps it up with the "we're auctioning off stuff for charity" spiel, and bids us goodnight.
Will things play out the way I've said? I'd say no, but in this predictable season, I wouldn't rule it out. Also, I feel that it might be a matter of time before an EMS crew is called in to pry Probst's lips from Rob's buttocks. His buttocks if we're lucky.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Finishing "Unfinished Business"
When people look back on the eighteenth season of The Amazing Race, they probably won't rate it as one of the best editions in the show's history. Oh, it's far from the worst, ranking better than TAR6 (the first full-on "Season From Hell," where the good guys went out early, the bad guys stayed on, and the detestable Freddy & Kendra lucked into a win over the awesome Kris & Jon), TAR8 ("Family Edition," or "The Season With Good Intentions," filled with watered-down challenges and Linda Weaver and her awful, awful kin) and TAR11 ("All-Stars," which I'll get to a little later). For me, it's been one heckuva ride, which will lead to a happy ending this coming Sunday night, with the first two-hour finale in nine seasons.
I don't mind the criticism. Everybody has a right to their own opinion, no matter how ludicrous it may be. And there have been a lot of flaws from "Unfinished Business," where eleven teams of two returned for another shot at the $1 million grand prize. I would have to be unbelievably naive to overlook them. Among the problems:
I don't mind the criticism. Everybody has a right to their own opinion, no matter how ludicrous it may be. And there have been a lot of flaws from "Unfinished Business," where eleven teams of two returned for another shot at the $1 million grand prize. I would have to be unbelievably naive to overlook them. Among the problems:
- The casting of Amanda & Kris (TAR14), which seemed odd until you realize that they ran four legs in their original season, the same number that Zev & Justin (TAR15) -- a far better "story" for redemption -- ran in their first go.
- The casting of Mel White (TAR14) , father of teammate/acclaimed director Mike White. Those two made for a good story (finishing fifth the first time), but Mel was 70 years old, which isn't the right age to strip down and search for a toy frog in a mud pit in less-than-optimal temperatures. The other Detour choice involved standing in a waterfall for a full minute, which might have broken Mel's body in half.
- The casting of Jamie & Cara, the mouthy cheerleaders of TAR14. They came in second in their first race . . . seems impressive, until you realize that after Luke self-destructed on the final Roadblock, the girls helped him out, and he and Margie (his mother) basically gave them second place in gratitude. Also, they were the only team where you needed to learn how to tell the duo apart, which is always annoying for me.
- The casting of Ron, the overbearing father of Christina (second place, TAR12). It seemed that he had mellowed out in the first few episodes, but he soon fell back to his old, obnoxious ways. I think once all the promotion is over, Christina will run away with Azaria (ran TAR12 with his sister Hendekea; married Christina after TAR18) and not bother leaving a forwarding address for daddy.
- The leg which was so heavily sponsored, it made some fans feel like they were being waterboarded with Snapple.
- The meddlesome Double U-Turns. While it is a clever gimmick to make teams handicap others by forcing them to complete the other Detour option, it still needs fleshing out. It was awesome to see the cheerleaders scream at dating goths Kent & Vyxsin (more on them later) to U-Turn Flight Time & Big Easy, the Harlem Globetrotters team (apparently, the really cool nicknames like "Curly" and "Meadowlark" were exhausted by the late Nineties), only for the goths to U-Turn 'em instead. But then Jamie & Cara U-Turned the Globetrotters, rather than being forced away to do their task. Also, the second Double U-Turn was positioned in a leg between a Detour and the episode's finish, killing any suspense as to who would survive to race another day. The Globetrotters wound up getting to the U-Turn stand first, forcing cowboys Jet & Cord (whom I recapped way back in 2004) to choke down some cheese fondue. And since father/daughter team Gary & Mallory were saved by a non-elimination leg in the previous episode, the cowboys wound up whistling "Happy Trails" on their way out of the game.
- The deteriorating relationship between Kent & Vyxsin. They weren't quarrelsome in their first race (TAR12), though they were probably picked for their unique "look" than their racing skills (finished fifth). But then things got heated, and Kent (who changed his name back from his Goth moniker of "Kynt" -- hey, at least it wasn't "Azrael Abyss" or something like that -- after his father passed away) began to get pissier and pissier, while Vyxsin got nasty herself. It was as if they were slowly transforming into TAR6's Adam & Rebecca, the wussy boy/possible closet case and his castrating shrew "girlfriend." Needless to say, their elimination in last Sunday's episode (they violated Race Commandment Numero Uno: "Thou shalt always READ. THE DAMN. CLUE.") was a relief for most fans.
Some of these glitches and others have irritated a few critics, particularly Andy Dehnart of Reality Blurred, who hasn't been that happy in a long time about this show. The worst of it came when TAR got renewed for a nineteenth season, when he suggested the show should be temporarily canceled. He keeps whining about whether being a fan or not. If you think a show should be taken out, even just for a while, then you're not a fan, period. Also, he had been slinging praises for such relevant shows like WWE Tough Enough and Celebrity Apprentice, I wouldn't take much stock in anything that guy says.
So why is it that I've been liking this season for the most part, and that I'm looking forward to tonight's finale at TARCon?
1. There Are No Headache Teams Left
Normally, there's usually at least one team in the finale that you can't stand. Last season, it was Jill & Thomas. Granted, they weren't as annoying as the bickering Chad & Stephanie, or the dumb-as-tat-ink Nick & Vicki, but they did bug. I know that Flight Time & Big Easy rely on the kindness of other teams, and that they are loud enough to not require microphones. I know that Zev kvetches a little too much, and that he lets Justin do more of the heavy lifting. And I know that to some people, Mallory acting like a dog that's always happy even though the owner pretends to throw the ball ten times in a row can be annoying. But between those racers, along with Gary and Kisha & Jen, we have a good field for the final leg or two.
2. This Season Is A Lot Better Than TAR11
Seven seasons ago, we had The Amazing Race: All-Stars, a well-meant, probably-insisted-upon-by-CBS season where too many things went wrong. As a Staten Islander, it hurt to see John Vito & Jill (who were no longer a couple . . . and Jill has since gotten married to someone else) run themselves out of the first leg, followed by an ailing Drew stomping off the mat after his elimination with frat buddy Kevin in the following episode. Perpetually overexposed Rob & Amber wound up winning the first three legs (the first team to pull that off without using a Fast Forward), only to get eliminated on a needle-in-haystack Roadblock, where the always annoying Mirna beat Rob, and she and cousin Charla (her diminutive cousin who isn't a complete pill) beat them to the Pit Stop. The finale was a disaster. Charla & Mirna had lucked into the finale leg, though they did win two legs (two more than they did in TAR5). Beauty queens Dustin & Kandice recovered from getting eliminated in TAR10's penultimate leg to win four legs. Finally, they was Eric & Danielle, perhaps the worst team ever to get that far in the show's history. The deal was that they were both on TAR9 with different teammates. They flirted a lot, and that was enough for the producers to pair them off, even though it was an open secret that Eric was deep in the closet. The bickering between him and Danielle (did I mention she finished eighth with teammate Danni?) didn't help matters, and they went into the finale having not won a single leg. The three teams wound up running into a task that was a glorified version of The Newlywed Game. One team member would answer a series of questions relating to the game, while the other would try to guess what the partner said to open a safe. The only missing visual was Charla beating Mirna in the head with a cue card. Anyway, Eric & Danielle lucked their way into finishing the task first, and they got a million bucks that neither of them deserved. Also, Danielle became the first Staten Islander to win on a reality show, which was a black stain on the borough . . . or it was, until Jersey Shore and Mob Wives were created.
3. It's The Best Reality Show Around
Okay, I don't really know that for sure, especially since I'm not watching the high-end cable reality programs these days. But take a look around the networks. You can't trust phone-vote shows like American Idol and Dancing With The Stars, where a bloc of voters can easily wreak havoc. Celebrity Apprentice was pretty irrelevant until Donald Trump started taking shots at President Obama, to the point where the Commander-In-Chief interrupted last week's Boardroom climax with the news of the death of Osama Bin Laden. All right, maybe it was a coincidence, but I would think that the news could have been posted earlier. I have this image of Obama watching the show, waiting for a crucial point in the episode, then instructing his staff to get the networks to break into their coverage. Sometimes, in my mind, he's dressed as a Starfleet Captain, sitting in a replica of the captain's chair, giving the command with a simple "Engage." My points are that 1. I wouldn't be surprised if the timing of the news was intentional, and 2. I am a weird person.
Oh, and Survivor: Redemption Island could have been settled if Mark Burnett had just given the million dollar grand prize to Rob Mariano on Day One and be done with it. Never will one so overrated win so much with the help of those so very, very stupid. Yes, I'm aware that there's a chance that some of the remaining players will grow enough brain cells to throw Rob over the top rope by next Sunday's finale, but I doubt it.
4. The Rise Of Zev & Justin
The team's hook in TAR15 was that Zev suffers from Asperger's Syndrome, and Justin was his best friend. They hung in there, and they managed to win the fourth leg . . . only to realize that they lost their passports. After a frantic search, Justin found his, but Zev had managed to drop his in a monastery (as detailed here), and the pair was eliminated. This season, they've gone from lasting four legs to winning four legs, not only being the most improved team, but also have the most leg wins this season going into the finale. Yes, Justin has been doing more of the heavy lifting, and Zev does tend to get frustrated easier, but they are both the best story of this season. The prime example came when the boys elected to chow down on cheese fondue for a Detour in Switzerland. They could have bailed out like Kisha and Jen did after seeing the enormity of the task, but Zev kept talking Justin into sticking with it. And even after Justin had to throw up and Zev gave a look where he looked seconds from dying, they finished the task, and wound up finishing in first place. I don't have any diagnoses of autism, but I do consider myself having enough "loose wiring" to emphasize the most with Zev than any other Racer, and I hope the boys pull it off in the end.
As I type this, I'm hours away from driving to Manhattan for my seventeenth consecutive TARCon. There hasn't been much of a response this season (probably due to it being held on Mother's Day), so it's been moved to a small location. There probably won't be as many past and present Racers dropping by on account of a huge TAR party for the show's tenth anniversary on Saturday in Miami hosted by Snapple (yeah, those guys again). Also, I don't see the winning team doing a "victory lap" with television appearances beyond The Early Show. After The Bonnie Hunt Show got canceled and Live! with Regis & Kelly didn't bother inviting Nat & Kat over last year (which was a blessing, since neither host looked like they even watched the show, given past interviews with previous winners), whomever wins Unfinished Business won't be as hyped as victors from other reality shows. Still, I feel like this has been one of the best seasons in a while, and enough to bring the Emmy back to TAR. Here's hoping the finale validates my hopes.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Adventures in Orlando: Day Four
I should have posted this hours earlier. I wanted to watch The Daily Show, and I waited for it on the couch. When I came to, it was after 12:30, and I missed that and The Colbert Report. You have to love those post-vacation comas, right? My mother went right to bed after we got home. Did I mention she has to go back to work tomorrow?
Nothing much happened on our getaway day. Mom had to get up early to arrange details for the flight home. We hit the breakfast buffet one last day, and I only had two helpings of stuff this time. It wasn't like I had a pile of pancakes topped by muffins and omelets all the time, but I reckon I was chowing down on stuff that wasn't quite healthy for me. Also, I didn't get to weigh myself anytime this weekend, and I would've been afraid to do that, for fear that I gained weight that I couldn't burn off from all the walking. Have I mentioned that I just took a nap?
Nothing really happened today. The animals that had been outside our window were not to be seen, as if they knew we were done with the place. Not only did our bag make it to Newark right away, but it was one of the first on the conveyor belt. And when we got home, there were several newspapers waiting in front of the door, even though Mom wrote a letter to our deliveryman to hold off during the weekend.
Short story: I had a good weekend. There were no major hitches to speak of, which is great since I'm the sort that keeps stepping on rakes during vacations (forgetting medication, missing the window before a flight, losing my sketchbook and my camcorder on the final day of a convention, etc.) The weather was nice . . . I don't think the temperature hit 80 degrees all weekend. I had bought a tube of sunscreen to lose and I forgot all about it, and all I got was mildly red around my neck. When I looked in USA Today, I saw that we might be getting snow. Snow. Really. Gotta love the wonky weather of the early 21th Century, right?
Anyway, Disney World was great. The "characters" don't do anything halfway at all. Granted, the happy and helpful attitudes and the nametags with their hometowns listed (drinking game: drink when you meet somebody who's actually from Africa!) are a little cult-y for me, but it was nice in the long run. More importantly, in a vacation spot that calls itself "The Happiest Place on Earth," I didn't suffer sugar overload to the point where I wanted to haul off and slug a hapless "character." And I didn't get molested by some schmuck in a costume, which was also good. I do have to mention that I didn't really get close to any of those guys. I really thought I would be out of place there, and I wasn't.
I think that's enough talking, especially since I'm suffering from bouts of keyboard dyslexia right now. I've been uploading far too many pictures of the weekend on Flickr, and I'm still not done. Tomorrow, I'll decompress at home, and then I'll start looking for work. So I can get a job. So I can make money. So I can save money. So that I can get away from home again. And so that I get motivated to blog again. I think that really is a circle of life.
Nothing much happened on our getaway day. Mom had to get up early to arrange details for the flight home. We hit the breakfast buffet one last day, and I only had two helpings of stuff this time. It wasn't like I had a pile of pancakes topped by muffins and omelets all the time, but I reckon I was chowing down on stuff that wasn't quite healthy for me. Also, I didn't get to weigh myself anytime this weekend, and I would've been afraid to do that, for fear that I gained weight that I couldn't burn off from all the walking. Have I mentioned that I just took a nap?
Nothing really happened today. The animals that had been outside our window were not to be seen, as if they knew we were done with the place. Not only did our bag make it to Newark right away, but it was one of the first on the conveyor belt. And when we got home, there were several newspapers waiting in front of the door, even though Mom wrote a letter to our deliveryman to hold off during the weekend.
Short story: I had a good weekend. There were no major hitches to speak of, which is great since I'm the sort that keeps stepping on rakes during vacations (forgetting medication, missing the window before a flight, losing my sketchbook and my camcorder on the final day of a convention, etc.) The weather was nice . . . I don't think the temperature hit 80 degrees all weekend. I had bought a tube of sunscreen to lose and I forgot all about it, and all I got was mildly red around my neck. When I looked in USA Today, I saw that we might be getting snow. Snow. Really. Gotta love the wonky weather of the early 21th Century, right?
Anyway, Disney World was great. The "characters" don't do anything halfway at all. Granted, the happy and helpful attitudes and the nametags with their hometowns listed (drinking game: drink when you meet somebody who's actually from Africa!) are a little cult-y for me, but it was nice in the long run. More importantly, in a vacation spot that calls itself "The Happiest Place on Earth," I didn't suffer sugar overload to the point where I wanted to haul off and slug a hapless "character." And I didn't get molested by some schmuck in a costume, which was also good. I do have to mention that I didn't really get close to any of those guys. I really thought I would be out of place there, and I wasn't.
I think that's enough talking, especially since I'm suffering from bouts of keyboard dyslexia right now. I've been uploading far too many pictures of the weekend on Flickr, and I'm still not done. Tomorrow, I'll decompress at home, and then I'll start looking for work. So I can get a job. So I can make money. So I can save money. So that I can get away from home again. And so that I get motivated to blog again. I think that really is a circle of life.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Adventures in Orlando: Day Three
Had a bit of a rough start this morning. Last night, I had taken Chlor-Trimeton to help me get to sleep. It used to be in my routine years ago until it vanished from drugstores. When I went to Duane Reade on Thursday to prepare for the trip, I found one box on the shelf. Well, I think it might have turned me into a zombie for a few hours. I felt like I could use a nap . . . or a coma. Five comas, back-to-back. Add that to eating lots of rich food, including African cuisine, I didn't feel my best going to my final destination in Orlando: Magic Kingdom.
Yes, there I was, along with my mother, at the place which is about 180 degrees removed from my mindset. And seriously, every employee (sorry . . . "character"; that's what they're called) had been super-nice to me and Mom all weekend. I'm not used to it. I think it's a mix of my neuroses, my mental condition, my past with interaction, and the fact that I've live within the boroughs of New York my entire life. Somebody tells me to have a great (or "magical") day, it takes a lot for me not to respond with "Go fuck yourself."
It turned out the Magic Kingdom wasn't that big of a deal. All right, I think that's because I'm not a kid and it was the off-peak schedule. I reckon March is a great time to head to Orlando, when it's warm even in the final official days of winter, but not Southwest America warm, where local birds burst into flame in midair on a regular basis. The lines that I went on weren't too long., and I didn't feel that much like a fish out of water. Also, I have to admire a place where the first place you walk into ("Main Street, U.S.A.") has no rides, but lots of places to shop and eat. I think Plan B would've involved burly men grabbing patrons by the ankles and shaking money loose.
I went solo to Carousel of Progress in Tomorrowland. This was an exhibit shipped direct from the 1964 World's Fair in Flushing, N.Y., with lots of improvements. Basically, it's the story of an eternally-young family watching the times bring improvements to their lives. They're young on account that they're audio-animatronic (had to copy the phrase from the map), meaning they move around like humans, but they're not real and just a little creepy. Even the dog is a little unnerving to watch as he lifts his head and barks at the right time. In the end, we're about ten minutes into the future, where the boy is teaching Grandma the art of virtual reality video games, and Father keeps repeating game scores, prompting the voice-recognizing oven to ruin Christmas dinner. It's hokey in general, but it's cute to watch, with the stands rotating like a wheel, given the allusion that the stages are moving.
Me and Mom also visited a show based on Monsters, Inc. This one had the Pixar visuals, but the key was that the characters reacted to audience members. Also unnerving, and I was ready to duck out of view if my face had come up on screen.
We did a lot of walking, though looking back at the map, we didn't do much in Fantasyland. Once again: I'm not into rides. Mom made me go to the Haunted Mansion in Liberty Square, which was a bit lame. I'm probably not alone . . . only kids that were never exposed to the likes of Scream, Saw, and their sequels would get frightened, even with the nice effects. Also, the ride stopped for about a minute, which was annoying. We took a riverboat around Tom Sawyer Island, which had audio-animatronic sites near the water ("Indian" village, shack with rowdies, etc.) And then there was the Hall of Presidents, featuring Audio-Animatronic Abraham Lincoln giving the Gettysburg Address (I think), and 44 presidents that mostly nodded when their names were announced. A more cynical mind would've added more, like having William Henry Harrison cough violently, William Taft chewing on a turkey leg as big as his thigh, Gerald Ford falling apart, a robotic Hillary Clinton grabbing her husband by the ear, and George W. Bush . . . ah, screw it. You come up with something. In the end, the audio-animatronic Barack Obama gave a speech, and I half-expected audio-animatronic (yes, I hit CTRL-V yet again) Fox pundits to barge in and yell at the President for indoctrinating the audience. Disney engineers can make an eight- or nine-foot Hopper . . . why not Bill O'Reilly's big head?
We bounced around a bit. I wound up eating a hummus sandwich with strawberry yogurt for lunch. Happily, the bad feeling in my stomach was mostly gone. We wandered around Adventureland and Frontierland for the rest of the day. Tom Sawyer's Island was a bit of a waste, though watching my mother try to navigate a "barrel bridge" was pretty funny. That was very unstable; all it would take is one extra from Wall-E to break the thing. The Country Bear Jamboree was up my alley, though my mother thought I was nuts for liking (wait for it) audio-animatronic bears that seemed inbred (or "in-bear-ed") playing on funny instruments. Oh, and the animals with their heads mounted on the wall were enjoying it as well. She got at me by making me go to Pirates of the Caribbean. As you'd expect, a lot of the visuals are based off the movies which were inspired by the original ride, including several appearances by everyone's favorite metrosexual swashbuckler, Captain Jack Sparrow.
And that's about it. We tried to get into a few restaurants on Main Street U.S.A., but they were full up. Mom got her quota of shopping done while I watched (as I occasionally tried to find a snack that would be guaranteed not to send me to the hospital from an allergic reaction), and we went back "home." I managed to catch The Amazing Race (Jaime & Cara getting eliminated = satisfactory conclusion), and we got dinner at the cafeteria afterward. Tomorrow, we head for home. I know there's a lot I left out . . . like Mom looking for places to smoke, and how non-flash photography and moving objects aren't a great mix . . . but I think I covered the basic stuff well enough. I have to say it: I had a good time. While I wouldn't rush to sink a few grand coming back here anytime soon (or fall backwards into an ALL. EXPENSES. PAID. vacation), I can now see the appeal. Even if we had a week, there would be far too much to do. We never even got to explore the parks thoroughly at night or touch base at Hollywood Studios. One day, I might get a chance to come back, and now I wouldn't hesitate at the thought of going. Just don't expect me to wear the mouse ears.
Yes, there I was, along with my mother, at the place which is about 180 degrees removed from my mindset. And seriously, every employee (sorry . . . "character"; that's what they're called) had been super-nice to me and Mom all weekend. I'm not used to it. I think it's a mix of my neuroses, my mental condition, my past with interaction, and the fact that I've live within the boroughs of New York my entire life. Somebody tells me to have a great (or "magical") day, it takes a lot for me not to respond with "Go fuck yourself."
It turned out the Magic Kingdom wasn't that big of a deal. All right, I think that's because I'm not a kid and it was the off-peak schedule. I reckon March is a great time to head to Orlando, when it's warm even in the final official days of winter, but not Southwest America warm, where local birds burst into flame in midair on a regular basis. The lines that I went on weren't too long., and I didn't feel that much like a fish out of water. Also, I have to admire a place where the first place you walk into ("Main Street, U.S.A.") has no rides, but lots of places to shop and eat. I think Plan B would've involved burly men grabbing patrons by the ankles and shaking money loose.
I went solo to Carousel of Progress in Tomorrowland. This was an exhibit shipped direct from the 1964 World's Fair in Flushing, N.Y., with lots of improvements. Basically, it's the story of an eternally-young family watching the times bring improvements to their lives. They're young on account that they're audio-animatronic (had to copy the phrase from the map), meaning they move around like humans, but they're not real and just a little creepy. Even the dog is a little unnerving to watch as he lifts his head and barks at the right time. In the end, we're about ten minutes into the future, where the boy is teaching Grandma the art of virtual reality video games, and Father keeps repeating game scores, prompting the voice-recognizing oven to ruin Christmas dinner. It's hokey in general, but it's cute to watch, with the stands rotating like a wheel, given the allusion that the stages are moving.
Me and Mom also visited a show based on Monsters, Inc. This one had the Pixar visuals, but the key was that the characters reacted to audience members. Also unnerving, and I was ready to duck out of view if my face had come up on screen.
We did a lot of walking, though looking back at the map, we didn't do much in Fantasyland. Once again: I'm not into rides. Mom made me go to the Haunted Mansion in Liberty Square, which was a bit lame. I'm probably not alone . . . only kids that were never exposed to the likes of Scream, Saw, and their sequels would get frightened, even with the nice effects. Also, the ride stopped for about a minute, which was annoying. We took a riverboat around Tom Sawyer Island, which had audio-animatronic sites near the water ("Indian" village, shack with rowdies, etc.) And then there was the Hall of Presidents, featuring Audio-Animatronic Abraham Lincoln giving the Gettysburg Address (I think), and 44 presidents that mostly nodded when their names were announced. A more cynical mind would've added more, like having William Henry Harrison cough violently, William Taft chewing on a turkey leg as big as his thigh, Gerald Ford falling apart, a robotic Hillary Clinton grabbing her husband by the ear, and George W. Bush . . . ah, screw it. You come up with something. In the end, the audio-animatronic Barack Obama gave a speech, and I half-expected audio-animatronic (yes, I hit CTRL-V yet again) Fox pundits to barge in and yell at the President for indoctrinating the audience. Disney engineers can make an eight- or nine-foot Hopper . . . why not Bill O'Reilly's big head?
We bounced around a bit. I wound up eating a hummus sandwich with strawberry yogurt for lunch. Happily, the bad feeling in my stomach was mostly gone. We wandered around Adventureland and Frontierland for the rest of the day. Tom Sawyer's Island was a bit of a waste, though watching my mother try to navigate a "barrel bridge" was pretty funny. That was very unstable; all it would take is one extra from Wall-E to break the thing. The Country Bear Jamboree was up my alley, though my mother thought I was nuts for liking (wait for it) audio-animatronic bears that seemed inbred (or "in-bear-ed") playing on funny instruments. Oh, and the animals with their heads mounted on the wall were enjoying it as well. She got at me by making me go to Pirates of the Caribbean. As you'd expect, a lot of the visuals are based off the movies which were inspired by the original ride, including several appearances by everyone's favorite metrosexual swashbuckler, Captain Jack Sparrow.
And that's about it. We tried to get into a few restaurants on Main Street U.S.A., but they were full up. Mom got her quota of shopping done while I watched (as I occasionally tried to find a snack that would be guaranteed not to send me to the hospital from an allergic reaction), and we went back "home." I managed to catch The Amazing Race (Jaime & Cara getting eliminated = satisfactory conclusion), and we got dinner at the cafeteria afterward. Tomorrow, we head for home. I know there's a lot I left out . . . like Mom looking for places to smoke, and how non-flash photography and moving objects aren't a great mix . . . but I think I covered the basic stuff well enough. I have to say it: I had a good time. While I wouldn't rush to sink a few grand coming back here anytime soon (or fall backwards into an ALL. EXPENSES. PAID. vacation), I can now see the appeal. Even if we had a week, there would be far too much to do. We never even got to explore the parks thoroughly at night or touch base at Hollywood Studios. One day, I might get a chance to come back, and now I wouldn't hesitate at the thought of going. Just don't expect me to wear the mouse ears.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Adventures in Orlando: Day Two
Well, we had quite a day. Turns out that the Animal Kingdom isn't totally a wild animal park, but rather a glorified zoo . . . albeit a fun glorified zoo.
Mom and me spent the whole day there, exploring most of the place. We didn't go on any rides, since I'm really not a roller coaster kind of guy. Mom decided to go shopping first for the kids of the people who she works with. We found out that for no charge, you can have your goods delivered to wherever you're staying the following day. "Clever" doesn't begin to cover it. I wound up using that method myself, even though all I bought was a t-shirt and an Eeyore doll made up for a safari. I think Mom likes Eeyore because I remind her of him. Make of that what you will.
While we didn't do any rides, we did take in a few shows, like one based on A Bug's Life. In it, you put on 3-D glasses (which seldom works out for me) while Flik (the heroic ant of the movie) introduces various insects (and a spider) to the audience. Of course, things go wrong, like one bug spitting acid at the same time water is spritzed on the crowd. Things really go south when an eight-foot Hopper (the biker-looking bad guy) comes out to try and get even with the crowd on behalf of insects. He calls out hornets, and you don't see anything happening on the scr- HOLY SHIT WHAT POKED MY ASS?!?? Giant spiders descend from the ceiling. It's basically chaos until a lizard tries to eat Hopper, and he manages to flee. As a parting shot, the PA asks all assorted insects to leave, and you feel stuff crawling under you. I looked at my seat afterward, and I didn't see anything that would suggest that happening.
We wound up ping-ponging between the Africa and Asia regions. In Africa, you can go on a safari which gets close to the animals . . . or at least as close as you can get. I'm thinking electric fencing is involved. Basically, if you have a digital camera like me, it becomes a game of spotting an animal and taking a pictures while the vehicle is going at a good clip. Even if you have over 2,000 "bullets," it's still a challenge. Sometimes, you wind up with elephants with their backs to you. The biggest highlight of the day came away from the safari, going on a trail. I managed to see gorillas. Lots of silverback gorillas, looking at the throngs of people gathered with studious looks. Or maybe it was utter contempt. At one point, one of the apes wound up taking a few drinks from a small waterfall by using his big hand. Needless to say, they were imposing-looking suckers.
A lot of the day is a blur in retrospect. We went to the far-off Rafiki's Planet Watch (named after the wise ape from The Lion King), which had a building of behind-the-scenes stuff, as well as a petting zoo. I'm happy to report that the zookeepers did not rip the tails off the donkeys, then reattach them with tacks. I went on an Asia trail on my own. I wound up spotting a tiger, and as my finger pressed down on the button to take the picture, another tiger leaped up and wrestled him for about five seconds. I wound up with a nice blur for a picture.
We wound up going to a balls-out production of The Lion King. Nothing to end a day like live-action performers interacting with giant mechanical animals (including a grown-up Simba and Pumba the warthog) and some poor guy dresses as Timon the meerkat. They covered the big songs -- "Circle Of Life," "Can't Wait To Be King," "Hakuna Matata," "Be Prepared" and "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" -- and put on one hell of a show. No sensations of bugs crawling on my ass was also appreciated.
Mom and me had lunch at a place in Asia. We also filled up at the resort for breakfast and dinner. I'm amazed that I didn't roll or bounce back to the room. The price totals are obscene even with the meal plan, but once again: ALL. EXPENSES. PAID. Magic words to live by. Sadly, there's not enough time for us to do stuff in or around the place. I guess it's an acceptable trade-off. I did vist an arcade, where I managed to suck wind on a few racing games. It's sad that I grew up around arcade games, yet I can't get my bearings on a crap pod-racing game based on a movie -- The Phantom Menace -- to save my life.
One more day left. Don't know the gameplan as of this writing. I'm thinking the Magic Kingdom is definitely in play. Mom is now okay with a lack of fireworks in order for me to watch The Amazing Race, though I'll see if we can do both. For the record, I have that on timer back home, but crap does happen, and I don't know if I can avoid spoilers if I have to on Monday. But the bottom line is that even as sore and as full of food as I am, I'm still having a good time. If I don't have nightmares of Hopper and Simba beating me up, that will be a bonus.
Mom and me spent the whole day there, exploring most of the place. We didn't go on any rides, since I'm really not a roller coaster kind of guy. Mom decided to go shopping first for the kids of the people who she works with. We found out that for no charge, you can have your goods delivered to wherever you're staying the following day. "Clever" doesn't begin to cover it. I wound up using that method myself, even though all I bought was a t-shirt and an Eeyore doll made up for a safari. I think Mom likes Eeyore because I remind her of him. Make of that what you will.
While we didn't do any rides, we did take in a few shows, like one based on A Bug's Life. In it, you put on 3-D glasses (which seldom works out for me) while Flik (the heroic ant of the movie) introduces various insects (and a spider) to the audience. Of course, things go wrong, like one bug spitting acid at the same time water is spritzed on the crowd. Things really go south when an eight-foot Hopper (the biker-looking bad guy) comes out to try and get even with the crowd on behalf of insects. He calls out hornets, and you don't see anything happening on the scr- HOLY SHIT WHAT POKED MY ASS?!?? Giant spiders descend from the ceiling. It's basically chaos until a lizard tries to eat Hopper, and he manages to flee. As a parting shot, the PA asks all assorted insects to leave, and you feel stuff crawling under you. I looked at my seat afterward, and I didn't see anything that would suggest that happening.
We wound up ping-ponging between the Africa and Asia regions. In Africa, you can go on a safari which gets close to the animals . . . or at least as close as you can get. I'm thinking electric fencing is involved. Basically, if you have a digital camera like me, it becomes a game of spotting an animal and taking a pictures while the vehicle is going at a good clip. Even if you have over 2,000 "bullets," it's still a challenge. Sometimes, you wind up with elephants with their backs to you. The biggest highlight of the day came away from the safari, going on a trail. I managed to see gorillas. Lots of silverback gorillas, looking at the throngs of people gathered with studious looks. Or maybe it was utter contempt. At one point, one of the apes wound up taking a few drinks from a small waterfall by using his big hand. Needless to say, they were imposing-looking suckers.
A lot of the day is a blur in retrospect. We went to the far-off Rafiki's Planet Watch (named after the wise ape from The Lion King), which had a building of behind-the-scenes stuff, as well as a petting zoo. I'm happy to report that the zookeepers did not rip the tails off the donkeys, then reattach them with tacks. I went on an Asia trail on my own. I wound up spotting a tiger, and as my finger pressed down on the button to take the picture, another tiger leaped up and wrestled him for about five seconds. I wound up with a nice blur for a picture.
We wound up going to a balls-out production of The Lion King. Nothing to end a day like live-action performers interacting with giant mechanical animals (including a grown-up Simba and Pumba the warthog) and some poor guy dresses as Timon the meerkat. They covered the big songs -- "Circle Of Life," "Can't Wait To Be King," "Hakuna Matata," "Be Prepared" and "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" -- and put on one hell of a show. No sensations of bugs crawling on my ass was also appreciated.
Mom and me had lunch at a place in Asia. We also filled up at the resort for breakfast and dinner. I'm amazed that I didn't roll or bounce back to the room. The price totals are obscene even with the meal plan, but once again: ALL. EXPENSES. PAID. Magic words to live by. Sadly, there's not enough time for us to do stuff in or around the place. I guess it's an acceptable trade-off. I did vist an arcade, where I managed to suck wind on a few racing games. It's sad that I grew up around arcade games, yet I can't get my bearings on a crap pod-racing game based on a movie -- The Phantom Menace -- to save my life.
One more day left. Don't know the gameplan as of this writing. I'm thinking the Magic Kingdom is definitely in play. Mom is now okay with a lack of fireworks in order for me to watch The Amazing Race, though I'll see if we can do both. For the record, I have that on timer back home, but crap does happen, and I don't know if I can avoid spoilers if I have to on Monday. But the bottom line is that even as sore and as full of food as I am, I'm still having a good time. If I don't have nightmares of Hopper and Simba beating me up, that will be a bonus.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Adventures In Orlando: Day One
Friday, 9:20 a.m. Eastern Time
Flash back to February. My mother is at a company event in Manhattan. She's been working at a wine importer for years, and the office would probably fall apart without her. To her surprise, she's honored by her bosses with a big gift: an all-expense-paid trip to wherever she wants to go. This explains why I'm on a plane bound for Orlando, writing this longhand for my blog.
Anything related to Disney barely interests me. The allure of the Magic Kingdom is lost on me, since I'm not into rides or waiting on line to go on them. Disney owns ABC, and the only show I've watched on a consistent basis has been No Ordinary Heroes, which is currently in a ditch with NBC's The Cape, waiting for somebody to throw dirt on it. I'm still pissed that two great shows -- The Mole and Pushing Daisies -- got canceled, while crap like Wipeout and The Bachelor remain on the air. The latter seldom works out in the end; most of the final couplings don't make it to the altar (present note: I am not going to look up the exact stats). Bill Simmons theorized that since there's months between the doofus bachelor proposing to whichever mental case he chooses and that making it on the air ("The most dramatic Rose Ceremony . . . EVAR!!!"), the putz figures that it would be easier to plow through groupies in the end, because that's probably what he does during that period of time. Seriously, if you watch The Bachelor and/or The Bachelorette, you're a part of the problem.
Where was I? Right . . . Disney World. My mother isn't really Disney-minded, but she's been interested in going to a wild animal park. And yes, Disney has one of those. While I'm not at all that keen about, say, getting the business end of a giraffe's tongue, it does sound like an intriguing weekend. Seriously : All. Expenses. PAID. And it's not like I'm missing anything right now. Well, there is C2E2, which is starting up today in Chicago. I went to the inaugural edition last year (covered here, here, here and here), and I figured that it's too early in the year for me to go on my annual convention trip. I tried getting a four-day package for Comic-Con International at San Diego, and I wound up getting nothing after 4-6 hours of trying to pull it off online.
Right now, I'm in a good mood. My mother and me got to the airport on time, and I don't think I forgot anything. We're not sitting together, and she could get a middle seat for me. But then the nice lady on the window offered -- yes, offered -- to switch seats. I should hate the window seat, but I'm used to it. With an aisle seat, I feel like I'm dangling. Like I said, I'm in a good mood. Even with Mom suggesting going to Disney World (re: Magic Kingdom) to watch the parades and get my picture taken with Goofy, I'm all right. And I hope I stay all right when I get online later in the day.
Plane's moving. I'll be back later.
10:38 p.m.
Well, the good news was that the flight was pretty uneventful. I know that the odds of a crash or an Oceanic 815 thing happening are about one percent of one percent of one percent of . . . repeat that about twenty or thirty times. But it's always in the back of my head, y'know? We landed early, and our sole suitcase (remember, we're just staying three nights) isn't there. We're assured that since Mom put special Disney tags on it, it should be on the bus. We get on the bus and arrive at the Animal Kingdom Lodge. We look in the storage compartment on the bus . . . no suitcase. Well, it must be at our room already. We enter our room . . . right, no suitcase. For all I know, it could be back in Newark. Well, we hang around the room, my mother on the balcony, looking at the animals outside. It's not like they're so close to the lodge, but they are visible. We wind up seeing giraffes, zebras, and an East African Crowned Crane (we also got a sheet with animal pictures, hence the lack of "funny looking bird" here). Eventually, my mother's hunger forces us to get a quick lunch, since she didn't have much to eat back for breakfast at Newark Airport. We get back to the room . . . NOW our suitcase is there. This is good for me, since I had a long-sleeved, flannel-y shirt on. I know . . . I'm nuts. I just figured that I should be warm for getting out early in the morning, even though the forecast back in New York called for temperatures to peak at 69 degrees (and it isn't even spring yet!) Anyway, one change of top later, we head for Epcot Center.
You would think that Epcot would be outdated, but they've kept up with the times. Take Spaceship Earth, for itself, the ride that takes place in the big globe that everybody notices. It takes you through human history, with all sorts of sights and sounds, as well as frighteningly realistic figures moving around. It's as close as I've ever been to the condition known only as "tripping balls." The only bad part was that a camera took pictures of my mother and me. At the conclusion of the rides, passengers answer questions that shape a future civilization. And that's where the pictures came in, as our heads were stuck on goofy cartoon figures. For me, it was traumatic. For my mother, it was freakin' hysterical. I also played a video game where I controlled a figure made up of images of me running, jumping, and celebrating. Needless to say, I am not showing my mother that.
Given how late we got to Epcot, we really didn't get to do much. The other ride we went on was based on Finding Nemo, but that was lightly ruined by unruly kids who wouldn't shut up during the ride. We wound up in an aquarium of sorts, complete with sharks, dolphins and two manatees. I don't remember being so close to sea cows before. There were also a lot of flower sculptures of Disney characters, which was nice. We wound up having Chinese food, did a little shopping, and I more or less strong-armed Mom into leaving before the fireworks. So now I owe her a fireworks show by the end of the weekend. In my defense, we've been up since before 7 a.m., and I didn't really sleep on the plane ride.
The hotel room is okay. We both thought we'd get something bigger. For my mother, her frame of reference is the hotel she stayed in London two years ago while visiting my cousin, who was studying abroad. For me, it was the unexpected find from Expedia in a Baltimore suburb last year, where I was staying for a mere two days for Baltimore Comic Con. It turns out a lot of cable stations aren't on the television, but that's not that big of an issue. I also didn't make it back for Fringe, but that's why I set up the VCR before I left home . . . because I wasn't sure if I'd make it back in time. Ditto for Sunday and The Amazing Race, which I had to set for more than an hour to cover any schedule pushing due to the NCAA Basketball Tournament.
All in all, this was a good day. Here's hoping I'll be more Happy than Grumpy by Monday. I'd settle for more Happy over Dopey at this point.
Flash back to February. My mother is at a company event in Manhattan. She's been working at a wine importer for years, and the office would probably fall apart without her. To her surprise, she's honored by her bosses with a big gift: an all-expense-paid trip to wherever she wants to go. This explains why I'm on a plane bound for Orlando, writing this longhand for my blog.
Anything related to Disney barely interests me. The allure of the Magic Kingdom is lost on me, since I'm not into rides or waiting on line to go on them. Disney owns ABC, and the only show I've watched on a consistent basis has been No Ordinary Heroes, which is currently in a ditch with NBC's The Cape, waiting for somebody to throw dirt on it. I'm still pissed that two great shows -- The Mole and Pushing Daisies -- got canceled, while crap like Wipeout and The Bachelor remain on the air. The latter seldom works out in the end; most of the final couplings don't make it to the altar (present note: I am not going to look up the exact stats). Bill Simmons theorized that since there's months between the doofus bachelor proposing to whichever mental case he chooses and that making it on the air ("The most dramatic Rose Ceremony . . . EVAR!!!"), the putz figures that it would be easier to plow through groupies in the end, because that's probably what he does during that period of time. Seriously, if you watch The Bachelor and/or The Bachelorette, you're a part of the problem.
Where was I? Right . . . Disney World. My mother isn't really Disney-minded, but she's been interested in going to a wild animal park. And yes, Disney has one of those. While I'm not at all that keen about, say, getting the business end of a giraffe's tongue, it does sound like an intriguing weekend. Seriously : All. Expenses. PAID. And it's not like I'm missing anything right now. Well, there is C2E2, which is starting up today in Chicago. I went to the inaugural edition last year (covered here, here, here and here), and I figured that it's too early in the year for me to go on my annual convention trip. I tried getting a four-day package for Comic-Con International at San Diego, and I wound up getting nothing after 4-6 hours of trying to pull it off online.
Right now, I'm in a good mood. My mother and me got to the airport on time, and I don't think I forgot anything. We're not sitting together, and she could get a middle seat for me. But then the nice lady on the window offered -- yes, offered -- to switch seats. I should hate the window seat, but I'm used to it. With an aisle seat, I feel like I'm dangling. Like I said, I'm in a good mood. Even with Mom suggesting going to Disney World (re: Magic Kingdom) to watch the parades and get my picture taken with Goofy, I'm all right. And I hope I stay all right when I get online later in the day.
Plane's moving. I'll be back later.
10:38 p.m.
Well, the good news was that the flight was pretty uneventful. I know that the odds of a crash or an Oceanic 815 thing happening are about one percent of one percent of one percent of . . . repeat that about twenty or thirty times. But it's always in the back of my head, y'know? We landed early, and our sole suitcase (remember, we're just staying three nights) isn't there. We're assured that since Mom put special Disney tags on it, it should be on the bus. We get on the bus and arrive at the Animal Kingdom Lodge. We look in the storage compartment on the bus . . . no suitcase. Well, it must be at our room already. We enter our room . . . right, no suitcase. For all I know, it could be back in Newark. Well, we hang around the room, my mother on the balcony, looking at the animals outside. It's not like they're so close to the lodge, but they are visible. We wind up seeing giraffes, zebras, and an East African Crowned Crane (we also got a sheet with animal pictures, hence the lack of "funny looking bird" here). Eventually, my mother's hunger forces us to get a quick lunch, since she didn't have much to eat back for breakfast at Newark Airport. We get back to the room . . . NOW our suitcase is there. This is good for me, since I had a long-sleeved, flannel-y shirt on. I know . . . I'm nuts. I just figured that I should be warm for getting out early in the morning, even though the forecast back in New York called for temperatures to peak at 69 degrees (and it isn't even spring yet!) Anyway, one change of top later, we head for Epcot Center.
You would think that Epcot would be outdated, but they've kept up with the times. Take Spaceship Earth, for itself, the ride that takes place in the big globe that everybody notices. It takes you through human history, with all sorts of sights and sounds, as well as frighteningly realistic figures moving around. It's as close as I've ever been to the condition known only as "tripping balls." The only bad part was that a camera took pictures of my mother and me. At the conclusion of the rides, passengers answer questions that shape a future civilization. And that's where the pictures came in, as our heads were stuck on goofy cartoon figures. For me, it was traumatic. For my mother, it was freakin' hysterical. I also played a video game where I controlled a figure made up of images of me running, jumping, and celebrating. Needless to say, I am not showing my mother that.
Given how late we got to Epcot, we really didn't get to do much. The other ride we went on was based on Finding Nemo, but that was lightly ruined by unruly kids who wouldn't shut up during the ride. We wound up in an aquarium of sorts, complete with sharks, dolphins and two manatees. I don't remember being so close to sea cows before. There were also a lot of flower sculptures of Disney characters, which was nice. We wound up having Chinese food, did a little shopping, and I more or less strong-armed Mom into leaving before the fireworks. So now I owe her a fireworks show by the end of the weekend. In my defense, we've been up since before 7 a.m., and I didn't really sleep on the plane ride.
The hotel room is okay. We both thought we'd get something bigger. For my mother, her frame of reference is the hotel she stayed in London two years ago while visiting my cousin, who was studying abroad. For me, it was the unexpected find from Expedia in a Baltimore suburb last year, where I was staying for a mere two days for Baltimore Comic Con. It turns out a lot of cable stations aren't on the television, but that's not that big of an issue. I also didn't make it back for Fringe, but that's why I set up the VCR before I left home . . . because I wasn't sure if I'd make it back in time. Ditto for Sunday and The Amazing Race, which I had to set for more than an hour to cover any schedule pushing due to the NCAA Basketball Tournament.
All in all, this was a good day. Here's hoping I'll be more Happy than Grumpy by Monday. I'd settle for more Happy over Dopey at this point.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The End Of Russellmania
The end of the Russell Hantz era of Survivor came this past Wednesday night. Okay, if you absolutely have to be picky, it ended on August 27, 2010 (as extrapolated here). The ending was anticlimactic, as a guy named Matt Elrod became an answer to a reality television trivia question by besting Russell on Redemption Island (more on that later) in a game of domino stacking and tumbling. As for as endgames go, it wasn't as lame as, say, covering the contestants in itching powder and sweatshirts, sticking them on treadmills, and going to jump ropes for a tiebreaker, but it was pretty unimaginative. Russell went out the way fans would expect . . . in a blaze of sour grapes. He called out his tribe (Zapatera; came out as "shoemaker" on Babelfish), accusing them of throwing the last challenge in order to vote him out two days prior, and did some crying. In other words, typical Russell-like behavior.
For those just coming in: Mark Burnett was running out of ideas for Survivor, which remains his favorite child. Three seasons prior, he had cast Russell for Survivor: Samoa, along with nineteen others who will remain in obscurity as the years pass. Russell was an asshole from Day One. He lied about being caught in Hurricane Katrina, lied about losing a dog in the storm, burned another player's socks without him knowing about it, and basically became the most hated man in reality television. He also managed to form an alliance and snag hidden immunity idols without getting clues, which probably resulted in lots of production people losing their jobs. He managed to last all 39 days on skill, luck, and with the help of some of the dumbest people to play the game. With Russell having no shot at the $1 million grand prize on account that he was a massive jagoff, the others treated the money like a hot potato, flinging it between each other until some girl named Natalie kept it in the end. But Russell made an impact, and even I was entertained near the end. I chalked it up to a combination of Stockholm Syndrome and the fact that everybody else was a blur. Quick, name any five contestants from that season without using Wikipedia. Yeah, I thought so.
Since Russell was the only memorable person in Samoa, he got a berth into the following season, a rehash of the all-star format titled Heroes Vs. Villains. This time, he was put in a game with nineteen other people with experience on the show. Naturally, he landed on the Villains tribe, where his main rival was Rob Mariano. Rob is somebody whom I consider to be one of the most overrated players in the show's history, and you can't tell me any differently. Quick summary: he played a fool in his original season (Marquesas) to the point where his second tribe tried to throw a challenge in order to vote him off (it didn't work). He made the merge, but didn't make the jury. However, he was memorable enough to warrant bringing him back two years later for All-Stars. He hooked up with Amber Brkich (known as "Lamber" back in the day because she followed Jerri Manthey everywhere), and they managed to run the game as a power couple because they were taking on the dumbest people to play the game. Between Lex, Kathy, Rupert, "Big Tom" and Jenna Lewis, you didn't have enough brainpower to operate a toaster. Long story short: Rob got three votes for him, three votes against him, and Shii Ann was nice enough to vote for Amber, giving her the win. Oh, and Rob proposed to Amber before the votes were announced, and they became America's Couple or somesuch bullshit. They also were inflicted on fans of The Amazing Race twice, but that's another rant altogether.
Anyway, the Villains managed to run the game, and Russell got himself in an alliance that managed to trump Rob's, and the Beantown Bozo got bounced after eighteen days. I'll spare you the rest of the details of the season, including JT handing an immunity idol to Russell (along with a nice note that Russell laminated as a keepsake). The runty bastard made it to Day 39 again, only to finish third after Sandra (whose win was delightfully unexpected) and Parvati (who rode the Russell train to second place). At the reunion, precious time was taken for Rob and Russell to snipe at each other, and I think host Jeff Probst may have wet himself in joy. You have to understand something about Probst: the man loves him some alpha males. Sure, Russell's size didn't make him a top dog, but his personality made him an attraction, and that was enough for Probst to start touching himself. Word of warning: if you're related to Jeff Probst in any way, you might want to stop reading now. I'm only going to get nastier from here on out.
Somewhere in the world, Mark Burnett was also idly playing with himself. Here he had a main event between two of the biggest "names" in reality television. He had to do something. So he made a decision: invite Rob and Russell back for their fourth and third tries, respectively. Burnett would put them on Redemption Island, where he would send those who had been voted off to a place where they would live on the bare minimum on their own. When two of them would be on the island (or whatever Burnett would call an island . . . his definition of that is pretty loose), they would compete in a duel. The winner stays, the loser throws their buff into the fire and leave the game for good. As I write this, I'm assuming that once a merge between the two tribes, whomever is on Redemption Island would come back to the main action. While this new format has shades of Pearl Islands (where the outcasts beat the two tribes, and two of their number were voted back into the game), it was clear that Burnett was scrapping near the bottom of the barrel. Specifically, Real World/Road Rules Challenge, which started on that format back in 2003 with The Gauntlet. Of course, there would need to be a season to film between HvV and Redemption Island. What could be done?
Answer: invite champion collegiate and professional football coach Jimmy Johnson to Nicaragua, along with nineteen of the dumbest people that could be cast. All right, I'm probably being too hard on the Nicaragua cast, but anybody with half a brain was voted off quickly, while another game of hot potato was played between people who probably couldn't spell "Survivor." Jimmy himself was gone after eight days, a victim of age and nature. He did wind up getting a lap dance from Probst at the reunion special, while other players (including jury members) got shafted on air time. The host then grinded all over the leg of Terry Bradshaw, one of Johnson's co-hosts on Fox's NFL pre-game show. To say it was embarrassing would be an understatement. Between two people quitting (including the unbelievably odious Naonka, who will no doubt be the "guest of honor" at an NAACP fundraiser where people would pay to punch her in the mouth), "masterminds" getting outwitted, Probst openly using his reality host mind powers to influence a vote, the players not getting influenced by Probst's mind mojo because they didn't have minds to begin with, and a dumbass nicknamed "Fabio" (because he was blond and dim, and apparently that was enough to warrant the moniker), Survivor hit an all-time low in quality.
Once all footage of Nicaragua was buried in a hole thirty-feet deep that was then filled with concrete (something the producers of The Amazing Race did with their all-star season years ago), Burnett moved on with promoting Redemption Island and Rob and Russell's involvement with it, which was the worst-kept secret ever. Once the cat was finally let out of the bag (half-torn to shreds already), Probst laid this gem on the Entertainment Weekly website: "I’m not concerned at all about any Russell fatigue — that people have had too much. If you’ve had too much of Russell, I dare say you’re not really a Survivor fan. He embodies Survivor. He’s polarizing. You hate him or you love him." You just had to love the cavalier "fuck you" attitude Probst had for the fans. Russell was an anchor that was dragging the show towards the abyss that most shows are falling into, and those sane enough to hate the punk had problems? Also, at the Nicaragua reunion special, Rob revealed that he and Amber had their second kid. You would think that Rob would at least look to have a normal life, as opposed to being a grown-up version of the eternally bratty morons that pollute Real World/Road Rules Challenge every single season these days. Honestly, Mark Burnett could look at the "hinjinks" of mouth-breathers like Evan Starkman, Kenny Santucci and Johnny Devenanzio (the show's permanent Axis of Ass) and start getting horny at "bad boys" stirring up trouble on his show.
And that brings us to today. I'm not going to get into most of the action, given that I still don't know most of these people after four episodes. One day, I might write an essay on Phillip, a man who seems to be more of a Section 64 than a "mere" Section 8, but that's not happening today. I'll skip to the irony of a fella named Ralph finding the hidden immunity idol without getting a clue about its whereabouts. In Nicaragua, the producers at least tried to "Russell-proof" the idols by hiding them in less conspicuous places. So it was hilarious that Ralph ("Redneck Yeti" comes to mind describing him) just stumbled across it, beating Russell at his own game. The pipsqueak managed to get by, allying himself with Krista and Stephanie. Since Russell is known as "Russhole" on the forums, I think of those two as "Russhoes." I know, it's not nice, and I'd be happy to hear alternatives. Anyway, after the Zapatera tribe won their first two reward/immunity challenges, the bulk of the team elected to throw the next one in order to vote Russell off. Sure enough, they managed to lose the challenge, the majority sextet successfully split their votes, a three-way tie was forced between Russell, Stephanie and Ralph (who probably didn't think of using his idol), and Russell wound up losing on the tiebreaker. After snuffing out Russell's torch and sending him to Redemption Island, Probst chastised Zapatera for voting out "one of the most successful players in the history of Survivor." There are so many reasons why I could never play this game. One of the top ten would be the fact that I could never, ever respect Jeff Probst. EVER.
Probst: Well, you have voted off a two-time finalist and a certified genius. Whether it will bite you in the ass remains to be seen. Grab your torc-
Me: Um, Jeff? Could you repeat that?
Probst: You didn't hear what I said?
Me: Not really. Sounded like your cheeks were full of Russell's spunk. Could you spit it out before talking?
Now you know the rest of the story. Russell lost the Redemption Island challenge, got teary-eyed (like he had in past reunions after his losses), and baited Ralph (one of four players who elected to watch the contest) into revealing his hidden idol. On EW and his own site, Probst praised Russell with so much vigor, any printout made of those pages would come out very sticky. Russell himself has contemplated suing his tribemates for throwing the challenge. My response would be, "If you're not fucking over somebody, you're not playing the game right." Oh, and Russell may have leaked spoiler info on Samoa and HvV. I'd go over that, but it's the night where we have to set the clocks forward by an hour, and I should go to bed. Personally, I don't think this is the last we've seen of Russell Hantz. I honestly believe he'll come back next year to "star" on Celebrity Apprentice, which would mark the first time I would root for Donald Trump to lunge across his desk to strangle somebody, as opposed to the other way around. Probst predictably left the light on for Russell as far as returning to Survivor. If that happens, that might be the broken straw that finally -- FINALLY -- gets me to stop watching this rapidly declining show. But I doubt it.
PS: While thinking about what to write for this post, I decided that I wanted to be famous. If that happened, I might wind up being considered being a guest if and when Probst gets roasted. Rather than asking you to search my posts on the Television Without Pity forums for mentions of him, I figured it was high time to actually embed something . . . in this case, how I would address the overrated bastard. Just replace "my" with "Russell's," and don't forget to throw in a "Rob's" for good measure. Enjoy!
PPS: The Joes in the van are Breaker and Dialtone. Now you know . . . and knowing is half the battle!
For those just coming in: Mark Burnett was running out of ideas for Survivor, which remains his favorite child. Three seasons prior, he had cast Russell for Survivor: Samoa, along with nineteen others who will remain in obscurity as the years pass. Russell was an asshole from Day One. He lied about being caught in Hurricane Katrina, lied about losing a dog in the storm, burned another player's socks without him knowing about it, and basically became the most hated man in reality television. He also managed to form an alliance and snag hidden immunity idols without getting clues, which probably resulted in lots of production people losing their jobs. He managed to last all 39 days on skill, luck, and with the help of some of the dumbest people to play the game. With Russell having no shot at the $1 million grand prize on account that he was a massive jagoff, the others treated the money like a hot potato, flinging it between each other until some girl named Natalie kept it in the end. But Russell made an impact, and even I was entertained near the end. I chalked it up to a combination of Stockholm Syndrome and the fact that everybody else was a blur. Quick, name any five contestants from that season without using Wikipedia. Yeah, I thought so.
Since Russell was the only memorable person in Samoa, he got a berth into the following season, a rehash of the all-star format titled Heroes Vs. Villains. This time, he was put in a game with nineteen other people with experience on the show. Naturally, he landed on the Villains tribe, where his main rival was Rob Mariano. Rob is somebody whom I consider to be one of the most overrated players in the show's history, and you can't tell me any differently. Quick summary: he played a fool in his original season (Marquesas) to the point where his second tribe tried to throw a challenge in order to vote him off (it didn't work). He made the merge, but didn't make the jury. However, he was memorable enough to warrant bringing him back two years later for All-Stars. He hooked up with Amber Brkich (known as "Lamber" back in the day because she followed Jerri Manthey everywhere), and they managed to run the game as a power couple because they were taking on the dumbest people to play the game. Between Lex, Kathy, Rupert, "Big Tom" and Jenna Lewis, you didn't have enough brainpower to operate a toaster. Long story short: Rob got three votes for him, three votes against him, and Shii Ann was nice enough to vote for Amber, giving her the win. Oh, and Rob proposed to Amber before the votes were announced, and they became America's Couple or somesuch bullshit. They also were inflicted on fans of The Amazing Race twice, but that's another rant altogether.
Anyway, the Villains managed to run the game, and Russell got himself in an alliance that managed to trump Rob's, and the Beantown Bozo got bounced after eighteen days. I'll spare you the rest of the details of the season, including JT handing an immunity idol to Russell (along with a nice note that Russell laminated as a keepsake). The runty bastard made it to Day 39 again, only to finish third after Sandra (whose win was delightfully unexpected) and Parvati (who rode the Russell train to second place). At the reunion, precious time was taken for Rob and Russell to snipe at each other, and I think host Jeff Probst may have wet himself in joy. You have to understand something about Probst: the man loves him some alpha males. Sure, Russell's size didn't make him a top dog, but his personality made him an attraction, and that was enough for Probst to start touching himself. Word of warning: if you're related to Jeff Probst in any way, you might want to stop reading now. I'm only going to get nastier from here on out.
Somewhere in the world, Mark Burnett was also idly playing with himself. Here he had a main event between two of the biggest "names" in reality television. He had to do something. So he made a decision: invite Rob and Russell back for their fourth and third tries, respectively. Burnett would put them on Redemption Island, where he would send those who had been voted off to a place where they would live on the bare minimum on their own. When two of them would be on the island (or whatever Burnett would call an island . . . his definition of that is pretty loose), they would compete in a duel. The winner stays, the loser throws their buff into the fire and leave the game for good. As I write this, I'm assuming that once a merge between the two tribes, whomever is on Redemption Island would come back to the main action. While this new format has shades of Pearl Islands (where the outcasts beat the two tribes, and two of their number were voted back into the game), it was clear that Burnett was scrapping near the bottom of the barrel. Specifically, Real World/Road Rules Challenge, which started on that format back in 2003 with The Gauntlet. Of course, there would need to be a season to film between HvV and Redemption Island. What could be done?
Answer: invite champion collegiate and professional football coach Jimmy Johnson to Nicaragua, along with nineteen of the dumbest people that could be cast. All right, I'm probably being too hard on the Nicaragua cast, but anybody with half a brain was voted off quickly, while another game of hot potato was played between people who probably couldn't spell "Survivor." Jimmy himself was gone after eight days, a victim of age and nature. He did wind up getting a lap dance from Probst at the reunion special, while other players (including jury members) got shafted on air time. The host then grinded all over the leg of Terry Bradshaw, one of Johnson's co-hosts on Fox's NFL pre-game show. To say it was embarrassing would be an understatement. Between two people quitting (including the unbelievably odious Naonka, who will no doubt be the "guest of honor" at an NAACP fundraiser where people would pay to punch her in the mouth), "masterminds" getting outwitted, Probst openly using his reality host mind powers to influence a vote, the players not getting influenced by Probst's mind mojo because they didn't have minds to begin with, and a dumbass nicknamed "Fabio" (because he was blond and dim, and apparently that was enough to warrant the moniker), Survivor hit an all-time low in quality.
Once all footage of Nicaragua was buried in a hole thirty-feet deep that was then filled with concrete (something the producers of The Amazing Race did with their all-star season years ago), Burnett moved on with promoting Redemption Island and Rob and Russell's involvement with it, which was the worst-kept secret ever. Once the cat was finally let out of the bag (half-torn to shreds already), Probst laid this gem on the Entertainment Weekly website: "I’m not concerned at all about any Russell fatigue — that people have had too much. If you’ve had too much of Russell, I dare say you’re not really a Survivor fan. He embodies Survivor. He’s polarizing. You hate him or you love him." You just had to love the cavalier "fuck you" attitude Probst had for the fans. Russell was an anchor that was dragging the show towards the abyss that most shows are falling into, and those sane enough to hate the punk had problems? Also, at the Nicaragua reunion special, Rob revealed that he and Amber had their second kid. You would think that Rob would at least look to have a normal life, as opposed to being a grown-up version of the eternally bratty morons that pollute Real World/Road Rules Challenge every single season these days. Honestly, Mark Burnett could look at the "hinjinks" of mouth-breathers like Evan Starkman, Kenny Santucci and Johnny Devenanzio (the show's permanent Axis of Ass) and start getting horny at "bad boys" stirring up trouble on his show.
And that brings us to today. I'm not going to get into most of the action, given that I still don't know most of these people after four episodes. One day, I might write an essay on Phillip, a man who seems to be more of a Section 64 than a "mere" Section 8, but that's not happening today. I'll skip to the irony of a fella named Ralph finding the hidden immunity idol without getting a clue about its whereabouts. In Nicaragua, the producers at least tried to "Russell-proof" the idols by hiding them in less conspicuous places. So it was hilarious that Ralph ("Redneck Yeti" comes to mind describing him) just stumbled across it, beating Russell at his own game. The pipsqueak managed to get by, allying himself with Krista and Stephanie. Since Russell is known as "Russhole" on the forums, I think of those two as "Russhoes." I know, it's not nice, and I'd be happy to hear alternatives. Anyway, after the Zapatera tribe won their first two reward/immunity challenges, the bulk of the team elected to throw the next one in order to vote Russell off. Sure enough, they managed to lose the challenge, the majority sextet successfully split their votes, a three-way tie was forced between Russell, Stephanie and Ralph (who probably didn't think of using his idol), and Russell wound up losing on the tiebreaker. After snuffing out Russell's torch and sending him to Redemption Island, Probst chastised Zapatera for voting out "one of the most successful players in the history of Survivor." There are so many reasons why I could never play this game. One of the top ten would be the fact that I could never, ever respect Jeff Probst. EVER.
Probst: Well, you have voted off a two-time finalist and a certified genius. Whether it will bite you in the ass remains to be seen. Grab your torc-
Me: Um, Jeff? Could you repeat that?
Probst: You didn't hear what I said?
Me: Not really. Sounded like your cheeks were full of Russell's spunk. Could you spit it out before talking?
Now you know the rest of the story. Russell lost the Redemption Island challenge, got teary-eyed (like he had in past reunions after his losses), and baited Ralph (one of four players who elected to watch the contest) into revealing his hidden idol. On EW and his own site, Probst praised Russell with so much vigor, any printout made of those pages would come out very sticky. Russell himself has contemplated suing his tribemates for throwing the challenge. My response would be, "If you're not fucking over somebody, you're not playing the game right." Oh, and Russell may have leaked spoiler info on Samoa and HvV. I'd go over that, but it's the night where we have to set the clocks forward by an hour, and I should go to bed. Personally, I don't think this is the last we've seen of Russell Hantz. I honestly believe he'll come back next year to "star" on Celebrity Apprentice, which would mark the first time I would root for Donald Trump to lunge across his desk to strangle somebody, as opposed to the other way around. Probst predictably left the light on for Russell as far as returning to Survivor. If that happens, that might be the broken straw that finally -- FINALLY -- gets me to stop watching this rapidly declining show. But I doubt it.
PS: While thinking about what to write for this post, I decided that I wanted to be famous. If that happened, I might wind up being considered being a guest if and when Probst gets roasted. Rather than asking you to search my posts on the Television Without Pity forums for mentions of him, I figured it was high time to actually embed something . . . in this case, how I would address the overrated bastard. Just replace "my" with "Russell's," and don't forget to throw in a "Rob's" for good measure. Enjoy!
PPS: The Joes in the van are Breaker and Dialtone. Now you know . . . and knowing is half the battle!
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Reality Rant: No Sympathy For The Devils
As I begin this essay, I'm at a Burger King in Manhattan. I managed to kill a half-hour on my own, but now I face about an hour's worth of time left on this computer. All this because I was on a date that ended early (long story), and I'm just passing time until the latest DWNY event. So I reckon this is about as good a time to talk about The Real World/Road Rules Challenge and what pisses me off about it.
I realize that it has to be all drama, all the time. The days of somebody like Roni, an athletic girl who got little camera time during The Gauntlet, appearing on the show are over. And we'll never have a heroic figure like Sarah and her five Gauntlet wins ever again. So we get stuck with mental midgets and scumbags galore. Bunim-Murray Productions managed to invite CT to two Challenges where he got into fights and had to leave before the first mission was even played. At the heart of this discord: three assholes who have made the game theirs.
It started with Fresh Meat, where experienced BMP hands were partnered with new recruits. One of them was Kenny Santucci, a Guido from New Jersey. He was paired with the noisome Tina (who hasn't been back since she smacked Beth in Gauntlet 3), and they managed to walk away with second place at the end of the season. Also new was Evan Starkman, who seemed to be a likable Canadian boy at first. It helped that he was teamed with BMP legend Coral, a chick who can't do wrong in my eyes. However, Evan wound up getting a hernia, and Coral hurt her knee, so they had to bow out midway through the competition, opening it up in the process. In subsequent Challenges, Kenny remained a woman-hating dick, while Evan crawled toward the dark side, culminating with turning his back on Coral in Gauntlet 3, joining the forces of evil that I labeled the Axis Of Ass. While most headaches from the past several Challenge seasons have been Fresh Meaters (Evelyn, Casey, Diem . . . Ryan and Eric to a lesser extent), there came a third loser who became a major player: John Devenanzio from The Real World: Key West . . . or, as viewers came to know him as, "Johnny Bananas." It's bad when one of them is on. It's another when all three appear at the same time, which happened in the previous season, The Ruins. They trashed the competition, ridiculed others, and sailed off with an easy win.
What bothers me is that there's never comeuppance for people like Kenny, Johnny and Evan. Things break their way, they manage to top the winners' list in money earned (toppling four-time Challenge winner Darrell), and they never get shit for treating others -- particularly women -- like crap. I keep expecting somebody . . . ANYBODY . . . to boo them at the post-season reunions, but that never happens. All I can do is impotently put the hammer down on them in the Television Without Pity forums and make insinuations about their sexuality. Other casts are in on the joke; they referred to Kenny and Evan as "Kevan" during The Ruins. I honestly believe that Kenny cannot have sex with a woman unless he tapes a picture of Evan on the back of her head. Am I wrong for saying stuff like that? Probably. I do not consider myself homophobic, but I get so angry seeing Kenny talk shit on Fresh Meat II, I drift off into my darker side, like I did with Beth when I recapped Gauntlet 2. He winds up with perhaps the strongest Fresh Meat girl from the stable (Laurel), they win one Exile endgame, then he engineers the destruction of Wes and Evelyn's alliance. And it's not that I like either of those headcases, but I get an earful of "Mr. Beautiful" (yes, this is what Kenny calls himself) pat himself on the back about it, doing everything but whip it out and yank it during interviews. And the worst part is that the others kowtow to him. There were times where Kenny and Laurel didn't win a mission, and they were vulnerable to going into Exile. Guess what? It didn't happen, because nobody had the brains or the spine to pull off the maneuver. Even worse, I find myself reading other forum posters' messages, where they stop looking at Kenny at his rotten core and notice how good-looking he is. So's most of the cast of Jersey Shore, but would you want to spend any time with those people?
This Wednesday is the season finale. I'm pretty certain Kenny will wind up winning $100,000 when it's all over. Of course, he'll get applauded for his actions at the reunion. When I found out about the date of the reunion at TARCon, I considered waiting to see Kenny come out, but I decided against it. Even if he knew he was a scumbag, getting told that he is one probably wouldn't affect him. And the next season will feature Johnny, so that's going to be painful to watch. Sooner or later, whether it's on-screen or off, karma will catch up to the likes of Kenny, Evan and Johnny. I'm hoping for "sooner" and "on-screen" myself, but I seldom get what I want.
PS: I managed to kill over a half-hour. I should visit Burger King more often for my blogging needs.
I realize that it has to be all drama, all the time. The days of somebody like Roni, an athletic girl who got little camera time during The Gauntlet, appearing on the show are over. And we'll never have a heroic figure like Sarah and her five Gauntlet wins ever again. So we get stuck with mental midgets and scumbags galore. Bunim-Murray Productions managed to invite CT to two Challenges where he got into fights and had to leave before the first mission was even played. At the heart of this discord: three assholes who have made the game theirs.
It started with Fresh Meat, where experienced BMP hands were partnered with new recruits. One of them was Kenny Santucci, a Guido from New Jersey. He was paired with the noisome Tina (who hasn't been back since she smacked Beth in Gauntlet 3), and they managed to walk away with second place at the end of the season. Also new was Evan Starkman, who seemed to be a likable Canadian boy at first. It helped that he was teamed with BMP legend Coral, a chick who can't do wrong in my eyes. However, Evan wound up getting a hernia, and Coral hurt her knee, so they had to bow out midway through the competition, opening it up in the process. In subsequent Challenges, Kenny remained a woman-hating dick, while Evan crawled toward the dark side, culminating with turning his back on Coral in Gauntlet 3, joining the forces of evil that I labeled the Axis Of Ass. While most headaches from the past several Challenge seasons have been Fresh Meaters (Evelyn, Casey, Diem . . . Ryan and Eric to a lesser extent), there came a third loser who became a major player: John Devenanzio from The Real World: Key West . . . or, as viewers came to know him as, "Johnny Bananas." It's bad when one of them is on. It's another when all three appear at the same time, which happened in the previous season, The Ruins. They trashed the competition, ridiculed others, and sailed off with an easy win.
What bothers me is that there's never comeuppance for people like Kenny, Johnny and Evan. Things break their way, they manage to top the winners' list in money earned (toppling four-time Challenge winner Darrell), and they never get shit for treating others -- particularly women -- like crap. I keep expecting somebody . . . ANYBODY . . . to boo them at the post-season reunions, but that never happens. All I can do is impotently put the hammer down on them in the Television Without Pity forums and make insinuations about their sexuality. Other casts are in on the joke; they referred to Kenny and Evan as "Kevan" during The Ruins. I honestly believe that Kenny cannot have sex with a woman unless he tapes a picture of Evan on the back of her head. Am I wrong for saying stuff like that? Probably. I do not consider myself homophobic, but I get so angry seeing Kenny talk shit on Fresh Meat II, I drift off into my darker side, like I did with Beth when I recapped Gauntlet 2. He winds up with perhaps the strongest Fresh Meat girl from the stable (Laurel), they win one Exile endgame, then he engineers the destruction of Wes and Evelyn's alliance. And it's not that I like either of those headcases, but I get an earful of "Mr. Beautiful" (yes, this is what Kenny calls himself) pat himself on the back about it, doing everything but whip it out and yank it during interviews. And the worst part is that the others kowtow to him. There were times where Kenny and Laurel didn't win a mission, and they were vulnerable to going into Exile. Guess what? It didn't happen, because nobody had the brains or the spine to pull off the maneuver. Even worse, I find myself reading other forum posters' messages, where they stop looking at Kenny at his rotten core and notice how good-looking he is. So's most of the cast of Jersey Shore, but would you want to spend any time with those people?
This Wednesday is the season finale. I'm pretty certain Kenny will wind up winning $100,000 when it's all over. Of course, he'll get applauded for his actions at the reunion. When I found out about the date of the reunion at TARCon, I considered waiting to see Kenny come out, but I decided against it. Even if he knew he was a scumbag, getting told that he is one probably wouldn't affect him. And the next season will feature Johnny, so that's going to be painful to watch. Sooner or later, whether it's on-screen or off, karma will catch up to the likes of Kenny, Evan and Johnny. I'm hoping for "sooner" and "on-screen" myself, but I seldom get what I want.
PS: I managed to kill over a half-hour. I should visit Burger King more often for my blogging needs.
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