Sunday, April 01, 2007

Atlantic City: A Portrait of PWN3GE

Once again, the ol' gang of myself, Mike, Rusty, and Chrissy ventured to El Ciudad de Atlantic for a day of pure f'dupitude. However, this time around, our friend Danielle came along for the trip as well. Because she is quite new to our collective insanity, we felt it was in her best interests to provide her with some warnings beforehand:
  • We will likely be discussing the sadomasochistic sexual exploits of nearly-deceased actors and/or cartoon characters whenever we come up to a toll booth.
  • We will not likely be acting like anything resembling an adult.
She seemed to take said warnings in stride. I can say this with relative certainty, because my prediction that she would dive out of the car onto the AC Expressway did not come true. So far, so good.

True to form, we did indeed engage in some toll booth funnery, both to and from Atlantic City. Once again, I'll spare the exact details of the particular "conversations," out of fear that my friends list will plummet from 119 However, I'll list the focal points of the conversations and allow you to fill in the blanks of debauchery on your own:
  • Alan Thicke
  • Mr. Belding
  • Toucan Sam
  • Rusty's dog
  • One other individual that is just too wrong to specifically mention. Oh well, "Life Goes On," as they say
Our first non-toll booth order of business was simple; read each billboard to find out which casino offered free parking. For the third consecutive trip, Trump Plaza was the oh-so-lucky recipient of our merry group of misfits. As we approached the casino, I mentioned that I always miss the entrance to the Trump Parking Garage. Of course, as we were laughing...I missed the entrance to the Trump Parking Garage. We quickly found another entrance, parked the car, and got into the elevator to the casino itself. Because we have the collective maturity of a daycare center, we made sure to press every button on the elevator before we exited. This was met with a rather insincere "THANK YOU" from the woman who proceeded to enter the same elevator. Pfft. Ingrate.

Our first stop was the Mall Formerly Known As Ocean One, which is now chock-full of high-end stores like Armani and a bunch of places with French names I can't pronounce. As we walked, Danielle seemed concerned that the shopping center was directly on top of the Atlantic Ocean. I quickly reassured her, "Well, if we die, at least we die in style." Her nervous laughter indicated that she was rethinking the whole "not jumping out of the car when she had the chance" thing.

Eventually, we made our way to the end of the mall where the fountains are. If you're ever wondering where your precious quarters go after you piss them away at the slots, look no further...

Picture stolen from some website

At any point, you will see a couple of dozen gawkers staring at this glorified light show (myself included). Now for some reason, the architects placed this little button o'fun in plainview of people like me...

Now, I seriously had no real intention of bringing this aquatic lightshow of fun to a screeching halt. I mean...yeah, I had my elbow right on top of the button. And yeah, I looked at my friends and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if I accidentally hit this and..."


I quickly turned around to see the product of my idiocy: no water, no lights...just a bunch of tourists staring in disbelief. Because I base all my scientific beliefs on The Price is Right, I nervously turned to Mike and asked, "Do you think this is like the Range Game where they can't start it up again for another 62 hours?" Well, we kept walking away and turning around; as of last glance, there was another 61 hours and 58 minutes to go.

Not ones to ever fully leave the scene of a crime, we went to the candy store at the other end of the mall. Yes, the same candy store featuring Leminem and the Poolar Bear (no typo there) from before. Yes, the same candy store that charges $2.50 for a quarter-pound of jelly beans. Well, inflation be damned...Rusty and I needed us some JB goodness. Though $3.43 worth of banana-flavored jelly beans hardly sounds like a prudent purchase, it was enough for my bank to call me sixty seconds later to verify that I had indeed made said purchase with my debit card. I guess I have misunderstood identity theft all along. Here, I thought criminals bought stereo systems and computers with stolen bank information. Instead, we apparently are dealing with underground Jujyfruit rings. Be on the lookout, people; they could be smuggling sugar into YOUR neighborhood.

But I digress.

We continued walking along the Boardwalk, a/k/a America's Debunker of Evolutionary Theory (tm). Eventually, we came across an offer that was too good for us (i.e., Mike) to pass up...

In fairness, Mike only went because Rusty agreed to pay for his "special reading." Though I don't remember exactly what the psychic told him, I'm sure Mike will add the specifics of his
clairvoyant experience...particularly since it lasted a grand total of four seconds.

We continued walking, occasionally going in and out of different stores in the sincerest hopes that we'd find more pictures for my blog. Fortunately, we didn't have to venture too long before we hit our jackpot. Now, before I show this picture, I will preface it by saying this...
  • I am fully aware of what the statue actually is.
  • I am fully aware of the statue's inherent innocence.
  • I am fully aware that I need to grow up.
Now that you are fully aware that I am fully aware...

"Dan," you say.
"You're sick."

Now the intention of our trip was not for gambling or to take pictures of alleged prepubescent incest. We honestly came to AC for two reasons and two reasons only: Ripley's Believe It Or Not (again) and Go-Karts. We went to Ripley's first for the sole reason that it was closest to our lazy asses. Like I mentioned, this was our second go-through, though it was Danielle's first. Now when you enter the "museum," the first thing seen is a statue of the world's tallest man. Mike reminded me that I had my picture taken next to him last time. He was also quite curious as to whether or not I've grown in the last year. I'll let you decide...

Personally, I lean towards yes. Then again, my delusion has been well-documented.

I could continue to contextualize our insanity in Ripley's through more words. But I've already been typing for an hour-and-a-half (and have an entire section to go), so I'll just let the pictures do the talking here:

Ok, everything up until this point has been the undercard. The main event of the evening was a battle of two titans. David vs. Goliath? Ali vs. Frazier? They pale in comparison to...
Mike vs. Dan

This wasn't over some mythical biblical epic or some meaningless world championship. Oh no. This particular battle was over supremacy in the ultimate battle of wits, courage, and skill: Go-Karts. We have faced off twice before. The first time, I defeated Mike in an incredible come-from-behind victory. Spectators (and/or 5'2 people named Dan) have gone on-record to state that Mike's performance made him the "Michelangelo of Choke Artistry." Unfortunately for me, MvD II went to Mike on a night where we decided that 15-degree weather and go-karts were a great combination. As I slowly regained feeling in my fingers and toes, I begrudgingly admitted defeat, vowing that his victory would indeed be his last.

So the stage was set. Since we were in Atlantic City, it was only appropriate that a wager of incredible magnitude be made to commemorate Round III of our epic battle. Thus, the loser would have to do the following:
  • Wear a sign on their shirt that said "I Got PWN3D at Go-Karts."
  • Buy the winner the drink of his choice at any boardwalk location.
  • Verbally inform the cashier of said establishment, "I got PWN3D at Go-Karts."
Now for some reason, my memory of the match is foggy (psychologists apparently refer to this phenomenon as "selective memory"). All I know is...

*sigh* PWN3D.

Until next time...

Friday, February 16, 2007

Because Nothing Says I Love You Like...

During my break today, I stopped in the "Closeouts R Us" store in the Granite Run Mall. Now I have found some twisted stuff in my day, but my newest find truly takes the cake. Rather than my typical uploaded picture (mainly because I didn't take one), I'll just paste my IM conversation with Mike from just a few minutes ago...

(Screen names have been changed to protect the twisted)

Dan (1:00:36 PM): you will never guess what kind of valentines cards they had
Mike (1:00:49 PM): arabian?
Dan (1:00:52 PM): even better
Mike (1:00:58 PM): yiddish?
Dan (1:01:10 PM): more specific than that
Mike (1:01:30 PM): I give up
Dan (1:02:18 PM): crocodile fuck hunter
Mike (1:02:30 PM): youre fuck kidding me
Dan (1:02:33 PM): i swear to God
Mike (1:03:08 PM): wow
Mike (1:03:17 PM): valentines day cards featuring steve irwin

Now, before I post the next part of our conversation, I want you to take special notice of our respective timestamps. If this doesn't prove that Mike and I are Satan's heir apparents, I don't know what will...

Dan (1:03:31 PM): "My love for you is like a stingray barb to the heart. Happy Valentines Day"
Mike (1:03:31 PM): "You strike my heart like a stingray"

I need not say more.

Until next time...

Classic Moments in Stoopidity: Dick Van Dyke

I'm keeping this one short and sweet, as no analysis is truly needed.

Overheard at Hibachi's last night...
Man: Yeah, I used to watch The Dick Van Dyke Show.
Woman: Who was it that played Dick Van Dyke?

Until next time...

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Just Another Day at the Farmer's Market

Last week, I blogged about the now-infamous "Licking the Baggie" incident, noting how the witnessing of someone else's sheer patheticism can be a tremendous boost to one's own self-esteem. Well, if you combine said Ziploc-tonguing with my trip to Zern's on Saturday, you too can take solace in saying, "Wow...I'm not them."

Zern's is a Farmer's Market in Gilbertsville, PA (a/k/a Hickville, USA). Mike and I generally make a pilgrimage to the Big Z at least a few times a year. I can't directly pinpoint exactly why we go; maybe we just need good blog material. This time around, Mike's girlfriend Natalie came along for the ride, immediately filling Zern's daily quota of women with a full set of teeth.

Our first stop at Zern's always is at what has come to be known as "The Stuff Store"...

Don't let the word "Hardware" fool you; this store literally has everything. I don't mean literally in the "it has practically everything" sense. If you can dream it, it's there. Ever have a nightmare about Noid Finger Puppets?

You could put five pairs of latex gloves on my hands, spray them with a full can of Lysol, and sterilize the inside of the puppet with two matchbooks...I still wouldn't stick my hands in that thing.

The Stuff Store is also seemingly under the impression that Thanksgiving was founded by a group of Leprechauns...

Now before I continue, you may be asking yourself, "Why would you drive all the way to Gilbertsfreakingville to take pictures of crap in a Stuff Store?" Funny you (hypothetically) ask, considering I overheard the cashier ask her "colleague" the same exact question. Now most people overhearing such a thing may decide that continuing to snap photographs probably is not the smartest idea. I just turned my flash off.

Ensuring that we didn't leave El Store de Stuff with nothing but memories and used-up space on a memory stick, Mike actually purchased a (somewhat dented) Superman trash can. While he waited in line, the customer in front of him said seven words I never ever ever thought could possibly be even uttered in such a place...

"I want to put this on layaway."


I then watched in awe as the man began negotiating a payment plan for "this" item. Now, before I reveal what "this" is, please note the following:
1.) I'm not making this up.
2.) I couldn't make this up if I tried.
3.) Seriously, I'm not making this up.

With that all said, I hereby present "this"...

I then proceeded to put my hood over my head, leave the store, and laugh for about five minutes straight. And the saddest part of the whole thing? The day had just begun.

With Superman recepticle (and some shreds of dignity) in tow, the three of us finally exited the Stuff Store and made our way through the rest of the market. Along the way, Mike and Natalie came across some stuff to buy for their new townhouse. There were two "cashiers" working in this section: a really old dude and some chick with red hair that redefined the word "poofy." Apparently, the old dude was much more with it than his considerably younger counterpart:

Mike: Hi, I was just wondering if you took debit cards here.
Old Dude: Sorry, cash only. There is an ATM not too far from here.
Mike: Ok, cool. Thanks.
Seven seconds later...
Poofy Redhead: Sorry, cash only.

Now before we ventured off to find the ATM machine, I came across a coffee mug featuring everyone's favorite redheaded stepchild, Little Orphan Annie. This cup was a whole ten feet away from Ms. Delayed Reaction 2007 over there. Fortunately, the proverbial angel on my shoulder told me, "Dan, it would be incredibly wrong to take a picture of the mug and this woman for the sake of your own amusement." Unfortunately, the proverbial devil on the other shoulder reached over and kicked the angel's ass...

After firmly cementing our places in Hell, we searched far and wide for the elusive ATM machine. Eventually, we did find it...with absolutely no help at all from the directionally-challenged signage...

We returned to Oldie and Poofy's area so Mike could finally make his long-awaited purchase (and by long-awaited, I mean 20 minutes). A couple of Mike's items were glass, so Oldie was kind enough to wrap them up for paper towels. We thought we had seen new levels of ghettocity until Oldie grabbed Mike's change out of his cash register...a Ziploc bag.

On a related note, I never want to see another plastic zip-up bag for as long as I live.

Finally, we made our way to the computer/book/old film reel/whatever-the-hell-else-you-can-think-of store. From the outset, we could clearly see that the owner of the store had quite the inferority complex...

In addition to the aforementioned computers and books, the store apparently was also in the business of selling security cameras...even their own...

Now maybe my previous crack about the owner's insecurity (no pun intended) was somewhat unfounded. After all, they seemingly had no problem advertising products for other stores...

Either there is a superfluous zero after the decimal point, or that is one expensive-ass typewriter.

And that concluded our fun-filled day of absolute redneckery. Before I sign off though, allow me to give you an idea of other fantabulous merchandise you can buy at Zern's:

A rusted election button...complete with bullethole!

A royally pissed off sun

A Park Ranger/Lumberjack/Explorer/Overgrown Boy Scout Action Figure

A Toy Truck From Everyone's Favorite Dollar Store

A Rare Precious Moments Figurine: The Special Bond Between a Boy and His Duck

A perfect way to make sure that beans don't ssain your precious cutlery.

A sign that truly transcends Tim

A haircut from a place that's not only a barbershop, but also a Boolean Expression

A sign remembering your generic loved one (you know...What's His Name)

And with that, I bid adieu.

Until next time...

Friday, February 09, 2007

Classic Moments in Stoopidity: "What's Your First Name?"

Being a sucker for things that don't cost money, I took advantage of Netflix's 30-day free trial. Since today was Day 29 (and since I am a cheap procrastinating bastard), I called them up to cancel my account.

Now, when I created the email address that you'll see in the conversation below, it was partly a preemptive measure to prevent the question of what my name is. However, I had an ulterior motive: I knew that someday, someone would inevitably ask said question...and that would give me something to blog about. Well ladies and gents, that day has finally arrived...

Netflix: What can I do for you today?
Dan: Yes, I'd like to cancel my account.
Netflix: Ok, if I could just get the email address on your account please?
Dan: thenameisdan@****.com
Netflix: Great. And your first name please?

Until next time...
You know what my name is (hopefully)

Monday, January 15, 2007

What Dan Learned (Week Ending 1/13/07)

Batten down the hatches, boys and girls. It's learnin' time...

* Creating Miis of Bob Ross is a perfectly acceptable pastime. Sharing said creations with others over Wii's network is a way to allow your friends into your happy little world. Bob would have wanted it that way...

* One's improv skills can come quite in handy when an individual (who we'll just call Stan) shows up to a surprise party the same exact time as the person for whom the party is thrown. Stan's inate ability to not panic, stutter, or piss himself should also be lauded...

* "Seeing the Press Your Luck slot machine" has replaced "getting married" as my top life goal..

* I'm going through major "Heroes" withdrawal...

* If you ever have a strange urge to fear for your life, I strongly encourage you to visit the McDonald's in front of Granite Run Mall...

That is all.

Until next time...

Sunday, December 31, 2006

I Went to AC and All I Got Was This Lousy Fly Swatter

Normally when I venture to Atlantic City with Mike and/or company, I blog about how the Price is Right Slot is/isn't my bitch or how we ingrained visions of a naked Wilfred Brimley into the heads of an unassuming toll booth collector. While Mike and I continued to cement our place in Hell by still partaking in such activities yesterday, we found what will assuredly be our newest twisted pastime: taking pictures of really funny shit in dollar stores. So in my last blog of 2006, please allow me to take you through Dan's Photo Album of Phun (tm).

Our adventure starts here (though I'm admittedly not sure what a gift nut is)...

Mike and I made our way to the back of the store, where we entered an area that apparently warrants its own section...

FYI -- There was not one single seashell for sale. Say those last words real fast five times.

Now I know that part of the "allure" of a dollar store is finding generic ripoffs of name-brand products. But when you have to rip off a board game that hit its peak popularity in 1987...well... that's just plain sad.

When I perused through the other faux games of board, I initially thought to myself, "Wow, I'm shocked there's no Hungry Hungry Hippos ripoff." A turn to the next endcap quelled that surprise rather quickly...

After thanking God that some Malaysian sweatshop worker didn't bother with a Dizzy Dizzy Dinosaur knockoff, we sauntered over to the next section which...well...doesn't really necessitate an explanation...

What really scares me is that the store bought these in bulk.

Next, we have plastic weaponry for upper management who have just had enough...

Unfortunately, they were sold out of the Middle Management Sniper Rifles

Now, I admittedly never had a sweet tooth, so I wouldn't quite consider myself a candy aficionado. However, Mike and I spent a good amount of time afterwards trying to wrap our heads around this one...

I can't even think of a witty caption. It's been 24 hours since I first saw this, and I'm still staring at this picture in disbelief.

From the "Completely Lame Gag" department...

I'm sure the Mrdheao Man would be proud

Now, if you ever decide to dust off your old Tandy and get stuck on how to get past that alien in the East Corridor, this strategy guide should be of great assistance...

Two points of interest: there were about 60 of these and the copyright date? 1994.

Someone thinks quite highly of the woman who birthed him...

It does raise the question: is there such a thing as a maternity test?

Ladies and gentlemen: the world's first bird swatter...

Also proven to be effective for swatting Jeff Goldblum (dated 1980s movie reference)

I am now about to present the crown jewel of my dollar store photo collection. This product is the absolute epitome the unbridled cheesiness of the All-American Indian-owned discount store...

The glared-out text reads, "Now you can watch your home movies and slides on your TV!"

Ok, the front of the box alone gave me a good chuckle. But it was the text on the back that turned said chuckle into absolute laughter...

And with that, I bid you (and 2006) adieu.

Until next time...

Friday, December 22, 2006

What Dan Learned in Florida (So Far)

I'm fully aware that it has been well over two months since I last blogged. The reason behind lack of said bloggage is quite simple: I'm a lazy, lazy man.

So with half-assed pseudoapologies out of the way, it is time to once again discover What Dan Learned in Florida...

So Far.

* Before my sister and I boarded the plane, the woman at the front desk announced the whole criteria for sitting in the exit row, including the ability to "speak English fluently." Unfortunately for the potential non-English-speaking contingent on the plane, said instructions were not given in any other language.

* Parents who can't control their screaming babies on an aircraft need to have their parenting licenses revoked...particularly when said infant is sitting directly across from me.

* Without fail, I am always seated directly next to where the flight attendants set up the drink cart...which means I am always the last person to get a beverage.

* My bilingual highlight so far: seeing someone in a Miami Gamestop ask the question, "Tienes el Wii?"

* I informed my Mom and sister that they are the participants in "Dan's Dr. Frankenstein Project" (note: participation is not voluntary). DDFP is my attempt at taking different qualities from different females we encounter, in the hopes of figuring out what my "ideal woman" is. Well, the Project lasted a grand total of 24 hours before we found someone. So to the mysterious "Woman in Gold Dress," someday...someday.

Until next time...