THE SURFING PIZZA

I meant to pose this picture like Raph’s got Paul in a ninja chokedown. Raphael versus Paul. Except I posed it so it looks like Raphael and Paul are dating, and Raphael is tenderly holding inflatable animated McCartney in his arms. Oh well. Welcome back The Surfing Pizza, after I took a breather week off after posting 25 times in October. Your source for crap and inter-animation, inter-species gay dating.

Don’t google that. You won’t like what you find.

Today I have something important to contribute to the world.

It used to seem so unfair that there was no such thing as Kid’s Day. There was Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and then there was Grandparent’s Day at school, where you did the usual cut & paste with Grandma hanging around and saying how extremely talented you were. But no day for kids, as I pointed out to my parents.

They said birthdays were Kid’s Day. Well that couldn’t be right, because Mom and Dad and Grandma all got birthdays on top their own special holidays. And even if it was true, I still shared my birthday with my mother’s birthday, meaning she was totally butting in on MY KID’S DAY.

My parents, exhausted from arguing with me, then would say everyday was kid’s day because I managed to make every day revolve around me. And how could that be a bad thing?

Everyday was kid’s day. Case closed. Empty the dishwasher.

Wait a minute. There’s no way everyday could be kid’s day, especially when you consider how every day held the potential to become the worst day ever of your entire life.

Dad says no to playing extra hour at friend’s house? WORST DAY EVER.

Top scoop falls off your ice cream cone and the bottom scoop melts down the sides? WORST DAY EVER.

Mom says you can’t let your sister jump off the deck with a trash bag tied around each arm for a parachute? WORST DAY EVER.

Mom says you can’t eat a whole Nachos Bell Grande by yourself, why don’t you get a taco instead? WORST. DAY. EVER.

It was true. There was no such thing as Kid’s Day, and I swore that one day when I was big I would invent Kid’s Day and be the hero of the world. Except now I’m a few weeks away from turning 29, and I haven’t contributed anything of value to the world.

Until today. I have something to contribute. I’m posing a question to the world that’s brand new. An important question.

What If The Ninja Turtles Were The Beatles?

Let’s start with the no-brainer:

Michaelangelo is Ringo. The Party Dude. The clown. The one that likes pizza the most. And you might recall it was Ringo who did the Pizza Hut commercials. Ringo, never ashamed to shut up and make a buck. Mike isn’t ashamed to make a buck neither, given he was the sole turtle to appear in the anti-drug Cartoon All Stars To The Rescue.

Michaelangelo invented the word Cowabunga. Ringo invented the word Ringo.

Raphael is George. Raphael is the sullen one. The angry one. Raphael sometimes has a turbulent relationship with Leonardo, the leader of the group. George struggled with the egos of the band to be heard. He just wanted to play the sitar on more than one song on Revolver.

Raphel cursed in the first Ninja Turtles movie, screaming the word DAMN. Though I’d heard worse come out of my parents’ mouths, when Raphael cursed, it was exciting and intimidating, like hearing a friend curse. George Harrison killed a stagehand once.

Donatello is John. Both are considered the brainy one of the group. Donatello invents things like portals capable of opening gateways to other dimensions. John took drugs that opened gateways to other dimensions.

Donatello is the best character to be in the Ninja Turtle Arcade Game because his weapon has the best range. John Lennon is the best to sing in Beatles Rock Band because he has the easiest range, and singing McCartney is a bitch. Also, a little known fact: Donatello was the walrus. You’ll hear this if you play the Ninja Turtles theme song backwards.

Leonardo is Paul. Leo is the unofficial leader of the Turtles, and the most disciplined. One could argue that John was the unofficial leader of the Beatles, but I always give the nod to Paul. Paul was the one who dragged the other three kicking and screaming to the final recording sessions of Abbey Rd.

Leonardo is also the most sentimental of the Turtles. Paul McCartney wonders what’s wrong with filling the world with silly love songs. Leonardo is kind of a dork, and not in a cool way like Donatello. Paul McCartney wrote Your Mother Should Know.

**

I’m no longer interested in inventing Kid’s Day because even if I did, I wouldn’t get to celebrate it now. There was another childhood contribution I once dreamed–an air conditioner that air conditoned the whole outside in the summer. Why don’t they have an outdoor air conditioner? My friends thought it was deep. Maybe I’ll invent that.

Or maybe I’ll call my sister and see if she wants to try that flying experiment again. We were going about it all wrong. We don’t need trash bags. We need jet packs.

Or maybe I’ll just take another picture of Raph and Paul kissing.

It’s time to take a look at the treats that rank below the peanut butter chews in those orange & black wrappers, the Mary Janes, the Charleston Chews, the Tootsie Rolls, Raisins, Pencils, and whatever other ungodly things people are giving out these days.

This candy goes deeper than just taking forever to chew. Deeper than being a freaking fruit. It goes deep into the heart of darkness itself. This candy is generic. This candy is depressing. It’s so bad the dog wouldn’t eat it.

Proof I’m not over-exaggerating–

I’m always weary of places/things that are simply called what they are. The Mexican restaurant that simply says MEXICAN RESTAURANT on the sign outside. The kitchen cleaner called only CLEANER. The bag of candy called CANDY MIX. They’re hiding something. It’s not really Mexican food (it’s dogs in enchilada sauce); it’s not really kitchen cleaner (it’s blue water); it’s not really candy (it’s chemicals).

This bag has all the warning signs of extremely generic candy. Random dinosaurs– “Predators Return of the Dinosaurs” Then there’s that big 16 PCS, which acts like 16 is some staggering amount, a mega amount. This is the MEGA PARTY PACK. All this looks like candy a grizzled stranger would give you.

There’s the dextrose candies. This stuff is a product of China, and maybe dextrose is a word they use to describe the flavors over there. In America, we use words like Blue Raspberry and Tutti Fruitti. And then there’s the lollypop–I can’t even describe what this is, and I didn’t open it. Looks chalky. The dextrose candies I did open and sample. They certainly weren’t blue raspberry or tutti fruitti. They were hairspray flavored. Like when my mother used to spray her hair up with Aqua Net, and the air around her would taste like hairspay. That’s the flavor.

Then there’s this crap, 3 single-wrapped gummies–

One gummy with a wrapper all to itself. 3 of them. I’d hate to be the kid at the mega party who got 1 gummy while at least the others got 5 or 6 pieces of dextrose. I sampled the gummy too. It was orange and had a bitter flavor that wasn’t really orangey, but perhaps more tea-like.

The depression continues with Marshmallow Pumpkins:

I know you’re thinking these don’t look too bad compared to crap-fest of the dinosaur mix, but look:

At the very least, I expect the faces on my candy not to be cross-eyed. And then you might notice that the candy appears to be sparkling. Does this have glitter on it? It looks like it was something I stepped on and scraped off the bottom of my shoe.

Incidentally, when I bought these at the Dollar Tree, as the teenage cashier rang these up, she paused. She took a close look at them. I expected her to shudder, or at the very least, nod knowingly toward the ironic subtleties of buying gorky-looking marshmallows to make fun of on the internet. But instead, she said “Mmmm! These look good!” Then she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back.

Another product of China. The word beef in parentheses disturbs me. Usually beef in parentheses does.

Finally, good ol’ generic lollypops:

I have to admit I’m a fan of these. I think the drawings of the skeleton and pumpkin look old school. Something feels 1988 about these.

The way I figure it is that there’s a lollypop hierarchy depending on place and time.

Say you’re at the in line at the bank and there’s a bowl of free generic lollypops. SCORE.
The same lollypops as the only candy sitting in the pantry? SUCK.
We used to get our pumpkin at a farm that let kids pick out a grab bag filled with cheapo little treats such as these. SCORE.
But say they showed up later in your trick or treat haul?
SUCK.

Now there’s a question of what to do with this stuff. I’ve made fun of it on the internet…I’m not going to eat it…and trick-or-treaters are coming…

I wouldn’t.

Would I?

Would I?

I’m not simply calling this the greatest Halloween prop I’ve ever bought; I’m deeming this the greatest Halloween prop I’ve ever bought. Man, when you’ve been writing paragraphs about Halloween stuff for 23 days, you’ve really got to make new distinctions in your words. DEEM.

Plusses: Play on the word gourmet
Severed rat head
rat blood
cheese

Negatives: NOTHING.
Edit- There is a negative. The rat’s head is not edible. Unless you can digest plastic. Some of us can.

Disclaimer – This post was totally shortchanged by my viewing of the film This Is It. I tweeted my review in the spirit of Liz Taylor’s This Is It tweet review. Take a look at my Twitter Page

I bought this bag of popcorn balls in a strange moment. I was in a grocery store where I never shop–a small, non-chain store. The unfamiliarity of the store lended all of the products a new gleam to them. When I saw this bag of popcorn balls, it wasn’t just like, oh hey–look popcorn balls. It was HEY LOOK POPCORN BALLS.

And well, I don’t really have anything else to say about them, except HEY LOOK POPCORN BALLS.

The girlfriend took these photos and I think they’re artfully done. This is one of the things we do on the weekends, photograph balls of popcorn.

I bought these balls back in September, and it was the first time I dipped my toes into the Halloween season. I should have started off having a Reese cup and a pumpkin beer, but instead I started by getting kernels stuck in my teeth. I don’t think I’ve ever even eaten a popcorn ball, and I don’t think I’ll eat one again.

I’ve got the rest of the bag to pawn off on Halloween night to trick-or-treaters (unless any roommates proclaim their undying love for popcorn balls–speak now or forever hold your peace). I’m thinking I’ll give them to the adults trick-or-treating for non-present babies. I can tolerate older kids on the cusp of being teenagers, but adults trick-or-treating under the ruse of a baby is a shame.

Exploiting a baby in order to gain candy? That’s worse than the balloon boy family. Also, anyone dressed as balloon boy automatically gets a popcorn ball. And anyone dressed as Sarah Palin automatically gets an OPEN popcorn ball that I licked.

Halloween Kazoos are a brilliant idea and–without overstatement–the greatest innovation in trick-or-treat of the last decade. I’ve seen a lot of dumb things in the stores this year too. Boxes of crayons? Mini-velvet coloring pages? Mini playing cards? No kid wants that stuff. But every kid wants an annoying noisemaker with cartoon bats on it. Yes, I speak for all children now.

Just as I’ve been eating and sampling all the candy and items I’ve bought so far for Halloween, I wanted to try these too. I was just gonna give it a blow, wipe it off, and stick it back in the bag. It meant some kid, somewhere, was going to get a used kazoo. I realized that this was gross, but it was just gonna be one little blow. And I was going to wipe it off. By Halloween next week, any sort of lingering bacteria would be long dead.

Besides, parents are supposed to teach their kids to wash things first. I learned the hard way. Big Bad Wolf Coaster Souvenir Cup. Coke. Strange chunk.

But after giving the kazoo one blow, I realized it was THE FUNNEST THING EVER. Instantly, I had ideas of starting the world’s largest kazoo band, but it already exists. I was going to settle for doing a kazoo version of Metallica’s Enter Sandman, but that already exists too. I am totally keeping the kazoo for myself, so rest assure–there is not an unsuspecting child out there getting a used kazoo with my spit on it. (Which is considered an honor in some societies.)

(Societies run by dogs.)

But you gotta figure unsuspecting children get shit handed to them all the time. There’s even a show about it. America’s Funniest Home Videos.

Have a great weekend ya’ll.