I had a dream that I ate a giant marshmallow, and when I woke up, my pillow had transformed into an all-too-long tribute to The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.  One love, Stay Puft.  We tight.

Fast food chains are more successful in some areas than other areas, and in NYC, the once-great Roy Rogers' scope has dwindled down to just a few remaining restaurants.  I don't know when Roy stopped being fashionable, but I'd like to kill the person who started that movement because God damn, his chicken was serious business.  The breast pieces always came with this little knob of fried fat attached to the edge, and popping those busters is certainly what led to every fried chicken place on the planet coming up with their version of "chicken poppers."  If you live in a city that still pays Roy his due respect, consider yourself lucky and eat some crunchy skin for me.

Roy's inability to connect with children may have played a part in his slow decline.  McDonald's had Happy Meals and Burger King had constant Happy Meal rip-offs, and Wendy's had a pretty little red-haired girl on the marquee, but what did Roy Rogers have?  Nothing.  Roy Rogers had chicken.  Roy Rogers has roast beef.  But Roy Rogers had no Happy Meal.

Eh, that's not entirely true.  Once in a blue moon, Roy would put aside his convictions about chicken restaurants needing to serve chicken and not pander to the lowbrow crowd who wanted toys with their chicken.  I assume this to be the work of his advisors, always in Roy's ear with more lies about the necessity of a Happy Meal element.  I kind of want to spend the next paragraph writing "buckaw" over and over again, but I won't.  One of Roy's Rare Rappy Reals was called "Power Pullers," including small action figures that…pulled power.

Essentially superhero-shaped Wacky Wall Walkers, the figures came in four different colors, stuffed in text-ridden picture boxes that went to great lengths to make the toys seem more interesting than McDonald's Fast Macs.  Click here to download the commercial, and note how the song number doesn't really gel with save-the-world superhero toys.  Buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw buckaw.

Hooray for rotten weeks ending with a please-God-let-it-be-good weekend.  This here's your all day, all night Saturday Thread.  If anyone's around, that is.

There's a not-so-new buzzword attacking the world of consumer products: "Customizability."  It's the latest trend and the latest push, and outside of having Burger King's meat YOUR WAY, there's never been a more clear cut example of customizability infiltrating the world of we-the-consumers as Tylenol's new "Flavor Creator" kit — medicine that you make yourself!

Well, sort of.

The boxed set includes a standard bottle of cherry-flavored liquid Tylenol, but to boost its appeal and make the thought of sipping gross medicine a little more palatable to kids, Tylenol also includes a bag full of tiny packets filled with powdered "crystals" representing four different flavors: Strawberry, green apple, bubble gum and chocolate.  Yes, chocolate.
[more]

Went to Atlantic City last weekend, and lost way too much money to leave without at least getting enough material for an article.  Actually, I did leave without enough material for an article, but I'm not going to let that stop me, so, here you go.  Random stuff from the Atlantic City boardwalk with emphasis on its gift shops, covering everything from Tournament Arkanoid to shitty postcards.

Superman and I have a strange relationship.  I've never gotten much out of him, and he's certainly not gotten anything out of me, but once in a while, our wires cross and I'm really happy to see his gay ass red panties contrast against his gay ass blue pantyhose.  So, while the Superman Returns buzz is buzzing right over my head, I can't resist sacrificing a chicken to Jesus Christ in thanks for Superman's new "Krazy Kryptonite," just one of the many toys currently in stores to pre-capitalize on the new film.  Outside of Doomsday crushing a bird in his hand and proceeding to belt of a string of "HAHAHAHAH" text that strung across fifty-six panels in The Death of Superman, kryptonite is my favorite thing about the lore.  I don't care if it kills Superman: I love kryptonite, and I think it'd be really sweet of someone to come paint all the rocks in my luxurious patio garden bright green while I sleep tonight.

"Krazy Kryptonite" is cheap (not as cheap as it should be considering how simple it is, but cheap enough for you not to care) and beautiful, consisting of a translucent kryptonite-shaped shell that doubles as a shaping mold for a batch of heavenly green toy slime.  The consistency of this toy slime isn't what we're typically used to, being much less goopy and far more conducive to erecting tiny statues.  You can stretch, bounce and smell it, and though the haters may claim that that's all you can do with "Krazy Kryptonite," I told out hope that there's more uses to come.

Just got back from a family thing / kid's birthday party.  Had to stop at the travel agent first to pay off the Disney vacation balance (YEASH!), then a requisite visit to Toys 'R' Us to buy the birthday boy a gift card.  "A gift card," you say?  "No effort," you say?  Yes.  Because he's four-years-old, has everything, and I've no interest in wrapping something his mother is just going to exchange for some Tommy Tank Dickhead DVDs tomorrow morning anyway.  Fuck him.  While there, I found these here these those:

Pirates of the Caribbean "Pirate Pearl" M&M's, containing special limited edition exclusive white chocolate candies.  The signage at the store featured huge smiling pictures of Johnny Depp, and between that and the hilariously screwy cereal based on the same movie with the same hilariously screwy smiling Depp imagery, I've gotta wonder if the JD peeps actually read his contract first.  Face-on-a-cereal-box, face-on-an-M&M-display…these do not seem like typical exercises of the ever-fringe and-don't-you-forget-it Johnny Depp.  Next time he comes over for poker night, I'm going to josh him about being a sellout and tell him a funny joke about the MPAA rating of a new pirate movie.

This is your Saturday Night Thread, and like all of my favorite Saturday Night Threads, it's taking place on a very stormy afternoon that will hopefully segue into an equally stormy evening.  Not having a social life hurts less when it's wet out, but that's only the half of it: I just like rain, especially when I'm lounging just far enough from an open window to enjoy it without being a part of it.  All I need now is some thunder and the Halloween jukebox.  Shit, it's almost summer.

While traveling from one workplace to another this afternoon, I stumbled into a street vendor selling homemade jellies and Japanese DVDs.  More out of appreciation for the fact that a person specialized in jellies and movies than anything else, I was determined to buy something, and succeeded by handing the friendly jelly guy a crumpled up ten dollar bill in exchange for Battle Royale on DVD.  I know I'm way late to the game on this one, but if you haven't seen Japan's Battle Royale, I think it's about time you changed that.

Based on a book of the same name and design, the 2000 film provides an "alternate universe" Japan where society have gotten so CAH-RAZZY that random classes full of high school kids are forced to compete in a "Battle Royale" — a deadly game of survival staged on a deserted island.  Each kid is armed with a weapon (ranging from cool stuff like guns to shitty stuff like trash can lids) and sent out to fight for their lives.  At the end of three days (or sooner if everyone else is dead), the sole survivor is declared the winner and sent home.  If there's still more than one student left breathing by the end of the game, their remote-operated collars will explode, and yes, we get to see an example of a head explosion at least once during the film.

Whether it lives up to its cult hype in the States is immaterial.  Battle Royale is way engaging and way entertaining if not wholly affecting or effective.  Despite the film's bare-all brutality and twisted themes, there's an underlining sense of fun to the fantasy: It's got good guys you like, and bad guys you have to really try hard not to like.  If you leave any desire to soak up the messages and symbolisms within at the door, Battle Royale is just a heck of a lot of fun to watch.  Not Big Momma kind of fun, but not quite Korova Milk Bar kind of fun either — somewhere more in the middle, where you can feel naughty for enjoying yourself but not terribly perverse.

This site tells more about the story, which became a full-fledged franchise with movie sequels, books and tons of merchandise.  Here's another recommended site.  And another.  And another.

In celebration of spending a weeknight doing something that didn't fall under the category of "work," I made, burnt and threw away about 600 pounds worth of Chex Mix.  I suck.  I even picked up special drinks for the Chex Mix / Battle Royale event — new Dr. Pepper Berries & Cream soda.  I picked it up because I am magnetized by new soda brands, but I really didn't expect to like it.  I knew I'd be writing something about it before bed tonight, but I figured that "something" would be akin to, "Man, this here soda fuck shit piss sucks."  Nah, it's good.  Real good.  The berries and cream are really subtle, and you'd almost need to see the can to realize you were drinking something beyond normal Dr. Pepper.  While the flavor isn't remarkably different (and thankfully not overly sweet), whatever they added seems to tone down the unmistakable "sting" one feels after each sip of regular Dr. Pepper.  Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, I leave to the committee.

Having grown tired of trying to dislodge the few remnants of toothpaste left out of a Spider-Man themed container of Crest every morning, I stopped by a pharmacy after work to get new teeth sludge.  While there, I became instantly depressed at the sight of all of the unsold pre-made Easter baskets, now marked at half-price.  I don't know why it depressed me so much.  Maybe it's because I've always had this sick, twisted idea that pharmacies, toy stores and Wal-Marts hire poor old ladies to assemble these Easter baskets, which they assuredly would do with much love and care, and the thought that it was all for naught just makes me want to stand up, walk over and strangle you with twine.  On the upside, it's been a tremendous month for your local grocer's freezer section, and below are three reasons why…

#1: With the phonetic similarities, it was only a matter of time before the "Leggo my Eggo" catch-phrase lost a letter and became almost-literal in this holy union of Eggo waffles and LEGO toys.  I don't mean that to sound like I'm screaming; I've had to work with style guides from LEGO before, and they insist that you spell it just like that: LEGO.  All caps.  Let's just deal.  The commercial for LEGO Eggo waffles is more amazing than the product itself, but that's not to say that this isn't the kind of marriage worth throwing rice over.  As Kellogg's has now fully embraced the fact that their Eggo brand is capable of being tweaked in a zillion fucked up ways, it was only a matter of time before they called their pals in Denmark and said, "let's get retarded in heah."

Though theoretically the most brilliant and awesome idea ever, I'm sad to say that it's more of a gag in practice.  The break-apart LEGO waffle pieces do not connect together in any real fashion, and in fact, they're not even designed to look like they would ever do that, so there's not even a lingering hope that you just suck and that other people are having no trouble making fighter planes and castle drawbridges out of waffle pieces.  The most I could make out of mine was a little, boxed-in fort suitable for plastic green army men — and while that's not impressive enough to curse at you, I should remind everyone that very few other brands of waffles even let you have that much.  I'm more into these because it's ridiculously cute to have my LEGOs and eat them too, but if either company wants my advice, I'd be happy to give it: Don't tell people they can build things out of waffles when they can't at all really do that.  Aim low, deliver high.

#2: Every time I've mentioned popsicles or ice cream on the blog, the thread comments invariably turn to a discussion on Disney's old "Mickey's Parade" brand, which spanned from fruit-flavored character-shaped ice pops (my favorite) to ice cream bars in the shape of Mickey Mouse's head.  The latter is back, but not really.  "Chocolate Ears Mickey" ice cream bars is not a name I'd be particularly proud of coining, but it says what it needs to, and the treats look remarkably similar to those heavenly desserts of yesteryear.  Differences primarily include size (they're smaller) and facial structure (they're uglier), but these are tiny-sized gripes for such a big-time almost-resurgence.  Hilariously, the box contains a big burst alluding to the fact that the bars are "better for kids," but I question what they're exactly better than, because one look at the nutritional label had me wondering why I didn't just drink half a bottle of canola and be done with it.  Actually, I know why: Because canola oil doesn't have crunchy, chocolate ears.

Remember that thread from a few weeks back where I asked y'all to give me some Disney World vacation tips?  Well, we booked it.  Won't tell you when I'm going because THAT'S A SURPRISE, but I'll tell ya this: We went ahead and booked three nights at the Polynesian followed by three nights at the Grand Floridian, with Park Hopper passes for every day we're there.  When the reservation was set and paid in full, I realized that we probably could've bought Disney World for half as much money as we're paying to stay there for a week.

During that process and ever since, I've been reading countless reviews of Disney World.  It's my new thang.  Digging just deep enough, I've found that millions of people enjoy old school Mickey-shaped ice cream bars there, only Disney's are covered completely in a chocolate shell, presumably to skirt any fast-acting melting in the Florida heat.  I don't know if this connects to the Chocolate Ears Mickey bars in anything more than a superficial way, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.  Well, just this: I wish they put together a bootleg version of the fruit-flavored character bars instead, because those rocked the house a hundred times harder than Mickey heads.
[more]