I THAY, OLD CHAP!
me and my kitten :)
Finally all healed up and I’m loving it!!! Short north tattoo Columbus, OH.
By: Ben Chambers—— he is a great guy
When you’re home sick, immobile, with everything hurting including your skin, your options for entertainment are somewhat limiting. It’s pretty much TV or bust. I needed something to distract me from the elephant sitting on my head and the wheeze in my chest, but nothing too cerebral, so that when I’m in and out of NyQuil consciousness I could pretty much piece together the story. Enter Happy Feet.
I thought it would be a fun, animated, musical jaunt filled with penguin dancing and singing.
I have never been more wrong in my life.
First off - Robin Williams plays about 5 characters, which is 4 1/2 too many for a cartoon. You cannot escape him, and all I could picture was a manic, sweaty, hairy Robin Williams having a meth meltdown in front of a microphone. It was very stressful.
Brittany Murphy also voices one of the penguins which puts an umbrella of sadness over the entire movie. In my feverish state, I kept reading about her death and the various meds she was on when she died, which were medications I happened to be on at the moment of watching Happy Feet.
“Lovelace”, one of Williams’ annoying characters is named after a porn star which was a huge distraction. The next distraction was that he has one of those six pack plastic things stuck around his neck. I felt suffocated the entire time he was onscreen. We get it, Happy Feet. Humans are polluting the water. But you’re polluting my sanity. Not fair.
Lovelace. Just looking at him makes my neck hurt.
Despite being in and out of consciousness, I was able to figure out the narrative being that it was on cable and thus on every freaking 2 hours: Penguins seems to have amazing singing voices and find mates through heartsongs, one inexplicably being “Boogie Wonderland”. One poor penguin bastard can’t sing at all, but he is able to tap dance. Everyone hates him and won’t let him join in any penguin games, blah blah blah, leaves home, blah blah blah more Robin Williams, blah blah blah not enough fish, blah blah blah, Robin Williams, blah blah blah, a group of Hispanic penguins. And then somehow, through his dance, this tap dancing penguin is able to tell humans they are overfishing the penguin’s source of food and everyone’s happy.
Yeah, I didn’t get it either. This movie is like the worst acid trip multiplied by sadness with a twist of madness. At some point during this movie during my 1000 degree temperature, I panicked, and asked my husband if he’d leave me should I ever enter a persistent vegetative state. This is what this movie does to you. Just watch this and tell me if you feel you don’t need medication.
photo by gsmgreg75 on flikr
When you have earbuds in and I can hear it, it’s too loud. Kiss would argue that I’m too old and they’re right. I don’t want to hear your shitty music when I’m coming to or fro work.
You know this person well and you hate them. They crowbar themselves next to you and then proceed to investigate every nook and cranny in their lap bag, whilst burrowing their elbows into your arms and ribs without a care in the world! I don’t like people touching me on the train and the combination of a touch + manic elbows are a sure way to spark my downward spiral into madness.
[Ohad and Tzipi from flickr captured this journalist
Cousin to Wild Elbows’, this person loves to read the NY Times in it’s fullest capacity. As you try not to lay your weary chin on their outstretched arm, at least you get to read the paper.
This is a serious pet peeve of mine. I hate whistling, and I find few things more annoying than a person who is practicing their Mariah Carey whistle trills on a train/bus. Upon paying my fare, I did not sign up to hear what only be described as a theremin or an alien spaceship landing. Please take that whistling where people would appreciate it most - in hell.
The Whistler’s cousin, they also subject everyone to the happy tune that’s in their head when it should really stay locked away there.
thepromo on flickr caught a spread eagle in the action.
This commuter feels that once they have paid their fare, it’s time to relax! Their idea of ‘taking a load off’ is moving their knees as far apart from each other as humanly possible. Look at how flexible they are! Not only do their legs invade your space, they take up valuable real estate for another tired commuter who now has to stand because their crotch needs to air out.
image of felon by ynotbike on flickr.
The Nail Clipper is Public Enemy #1 as far as I’m concerned. I find them, simply put, vile. Just vile. The high pitched tsk sound of a human nail being cut off is bad enough, but to know that pieces of their dead skin and DNA is flying around on a train is too much to bear. Is it legal yet to punch people in the neck for doing this? It should be.
This person is usually on the overweight side, and almost always clearly unaware of their size. They will race to a seat that can only comfortably accommodate a third of them, leading their thighs and hips to spill on to your body. Not cool, Shoe Horner. Not cool at all.
The first thing us tired commuters want to hear is, of course, your annoying games. “By all means turn the volume up so we can all enjoy the coins/bodies/points you’re collecting”, is what I’m thinking as each blip and beep tunnels into my brain. I then wonder if bludgeoning someone with a Kindle would and/or could do any real damage. Would there be jail time for that? If so, it’d be worth it.
]DJ battle taken by Johnnie Utah from Flickr.
Please take all of us on a journey through every sound your phone could possibly make, including whatever shitty pop song is in your current arsenal.
This person loves, loves, loves to talk. Usually about crazy things: how they’ve been wronged, who said what to them, what horrors they’ve seen and if you’ve made the horrible mistake of making eye contact with them – you.
The only difference between the crazy talker and this person is a cell phone attached to their ear. For some reason, their voice volume is actually 80 times louder than it would be if the person was across from them. I long to blast their free ear with an airhorn.
Life and Limb risked by Dan Nguyen from Flickr.
I just want to sit down in peace, safely, until the train reaches a walking distance from my house. What I do NOT want is flailing appendages ricocheting dangerously close to any part of my person. The blossoming gymnast cares not for my wants. Yes, I am impressed by your ability to do a flip, but I hardly think a crowded subway car is the place to showcase your athleticism for some spare change. I’ll give you a dollar if you never darken my proverbial doorstep again.
This young terrorist shills their crappy candy for either their “basketball team”, some random “organization”, or simply “just to keep them off the streets”. Since they are already on the streets, their shoddy argument is null and void. They always seem to appear once I am able to close my weary eyes and enjoy about 5 seconds of silence before their booming “EXCUSE ME” slaps me upside the head.
I’ll wait for the next one, thanks! (photo by picturetakingone on flickr)
Some instruments are, unfortunately, built to travel - drums, guitars, accordions, etc. Sometimes these instruments band together to make your commute a living hell. I’ve been aurally assaulted by shitty mariachi, shitty percussionist, shitty accordions, shitty acappella ‘opera’ singers and shitty one man bands. There’s no ipod setting high enough to drown out the sound of these music killers. And there you have it. Did I miss any? Which make your commute a living hell?
SMILE! You’re a stingray
Beat up Wonder Woman (Still needs to be colored), Lee OGorman, Haven Body Arts, Northampton Ma
I want WW ink!