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WRITINGS CARTOONS ANIMATION and VIDEO BACK |
Why give your pal something that takes money and time to acquire, when you can just hand him a sack of your old, useless crap? That's right, folks, the inane, stupid gift-giving craze that's sweeping the nation, the A couple weeks after graduating from prestigious Solon High School, I was greeted at my door by an unsolicited visitor. My arch nemesis, Mr. F. Mr. F was the individual responsible for breaking and entering into my locker for the sole purpose of murdering my dear, dear, dear, dear, six-month old rock-hard piece of birthday cake. I don't like cake very much. (Don't get me wrong, I don't like eating cake very much, I loved having this particular piece of cake around). In any case, this was the guy who killed it. He was also a pal of mine who felt bad that he'd missed my graduation party, and felt he'd come over and give me a graduation gift. Little did I know this 'gift' would consign Mr. F further into the column of 'arch nemesis.'
Mr. F showed up with this in one hand...
...and this in the other. He found this busted hubcap on the side of the road on the way over. He said it was part of my gift. It turned out to be one of the more viable sections of this creepy cadeau. I opened the bag, and began to rummage. This is my graduation gift (NOTE - reading through these is only marginally less boring than actually receiving them, but look at the bright side. When you're done, you don't own all this useless crap...):
An audio adapter of some sort. I'm not really sure if it can be classified as an 'adapter,' as both the input and output jacks are exactly the same size. Perhaps a very, very short extender?
Perhaps the only half-way decent thing in here, a Dave Barry book. I haven't read it yet, but I understand his witty insight into the minutiae of daily life is quite droll. Or maybe that's Joel Stein.
Beakmania! The Beakman's World game! I used to love this crazy edutainment as an impressionable youngster! This game, however, probably sucks. I can't play it, because Mr. F only included half the pieces, but judging from the company it's in, this is the worst boardgame ever...
Not only do I not like sports in general very much, but I hold particular ennui towards football. Add to this the fact that our Cleveland Browns are on the whole very terrible, and you can see why I'd appreciate such a gift. A piece of cardboard (in a trendy cardboard frame) with the Browns logo on it.
Hey! Caution tape! That's kinda neat! Oh... there's less than a yard of it? And it has no caution text? Whut the eff?
I'm no expert on classical music, but Mr. F is, and he assured me, this is terrible classical music.
This was kinda trendy. Ol' DW even has a removable plastic cape and...erm...hat-spinning action.
A day planner! Well, I was heading off to college. I'm guessing the perpetrator didn't figger I was going to a very good college, as he gave me planner with these very explicit instructions...
Eric Carle books...which I've owned for years, except now I have them in small, illegible, hard, pointy form.
A little plastic missile with the word 'FOWL' on it. I guess this is pretty self-explanatory.
Go Tribe! What better gift for a lifetime patron of a total of three baseball games than a four-year-old Cleveland Indians Gameface magazine?
I placed this non-articulating football Garfield toy with some of my other, cooler toys. This should demonstrate what a bloody useless chunk of plastic this is. Note again, the theme of sports.
An ugly little fake gecko.
When one finds a Hershey's Kiss in the bottom of a filthy bag filled with someone's gifts/discarded refuse and spiders, it's best not to eat it.
An ugly little fake car.
This lets you look at things the way a fly with one eye would. Examine the Powerpuff Girls on my TV to the right for an example.
I believe these little tiki doll guys are supposed to go in or around your pillow, where they consume your soul as you sleep, or something.
A masterlock. Without a combo. Neat.
A used Madlibs book! To Mr. F's credit, he did erase all the entries which were in pencil. Not very well, but he erased 'em...
A terrible old Magic Works magic trick which makes no sense. I think if you spin the skull with your finger, it's magic.
A badge Mr. F got at some Disney-related event or place. It has his name on it, not mine. And yet I own the bloody thing...
The most disappointing Mickey Mouse hat ever. Ever. When Mr. F told me there was a Mickey Mouse hat in the LeBag, I was expecting a nifty two-eared pop-culture icon of a hat. Instead I got this filthy old baseball cap. Let this be a warning: If something 'good' is supposed to come out of the LeBag, brace yourself. I'm still waiting for the flesh-eating bacteria that was inevitably covering that Dave Barry book to take effect...
This goes to a nerf gun, so you can see someone around a corner, while all they can see is the bright neon-colored muzzle of your nerf gun sticking out behind a building. It's stealthy. The only way to make this tihng more useless is to remove it from the gun, which Mr. F was kind enough to do before he gave it to me.
A digest of Ohio Motor Vehicle Laws. I already had at least two laying about, and had passed the written test months ago (I still have successfully evaded the need to ever need to drive, though). At least I was living in Ohio. I'm surpised I wasn't given a Nova Scotian driving guide.
This is an old, terrible wallet. It's old, terrible, and totally empty and useless.
This is a terrible, terrible, terrible excuse for a 'power strip.' It has three outlets, too close together to be useful. It is also not grounded at all, and thus cannot be used for any useful appliances. It also has a tendency to fall out of the wall.
A spent model rocket, covered in filth. Even when it was in working condition, it was a crappy rocket.
A hateful, smiling bottle of sand. It sends my mind reeling into a mad diturgical vertigo between the desire to dash it into a million pieces upon the cold, hard ground, and the desire to photograph it and piss and moan about it on my website.
There's nothing wrong with my scalp, but just in case there ever is, I got me some scalp medication! Hot damn!
Here we have a 'sketchbook,' for children, given to me because 'I like to draw.' Evidently, my benevolent pal wasn't aware that I prefer to draw on pads with more than 12.5 remaining pages of paper other than micron-thick newsprint.
Another crappy magic trick. This one lets you put a stick through the middle of a coin...a coin with a HOLE in it...
This was described as a 'sling of fury.' It's a rubber dart on the end of some sort of particularly pathetic string. I'm supposed to use this to defend myself from attackers out in the real, post-graduation world.
A broken Sonic the Hedgehog portable game. It's supposed to flip out, as pictured. It does not, without ALOT of help.
One of those magnetic spinnymabobs. One of which I've owned since I was 3, and I've played with so much, I now have the skill to get it going so fast, it goes careening off the bar.
This is s'posed to relieve my 'college stress.' A squishy earth that smells like effing tuna is s'posed to relieve my stress. Right.
Symbol Simon. A game comprised entirely of little visual word puzzles. Seems intriguing, yet as an actual game, it sucks...
A poorly crafted Lego-Technic hybrid copter with a crocodile for a propeller. And a viking.
An opened packet of Tums. I wouldn't consume one of these for the world.
A kit to anaylze water with. This had actually made a brief cameo in the play That's Not a Golf Cart, That's My Wife!, as it was used by Mr. F upon the illustrious crotch of Ben Henri, star of the show, during a production of 'Trisch Trasch,' by Johann Strauss.
This thing says 'WAXPAX' on the outside. On the inside? There's some wax, I think. What are these cylinders of wax used for? I have no idea. Not one. Nor did the man who gave them to me.
These shoes walk when you wind them up. Wait, no, that's the set I already own. This auxiliary pair does not work. ...and that's it. A big pile of crap from my pal, Mr. F. He's lucky I'm in another state now... |
