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Revisiting Childhood

November 16, 2011

Bill Nye the Science Guy is the mascot for toll bridge tickets.

Bill Nye the fucking Science Guy is the spokesperson for this:

520 Tolls

His face is plastered on every bus in the city declaring his support for the Good To Go pass, and vaguely implying that they have something to do with science. Maybe they illustrate the water cycle when held under the light and I’ll find out on the next bus ad. It’s basically been the most surreal ride home ever, and it has me thinking about my childhood.

Look, I get it. He’s an actor, it’s his job and he should get paid for doing that job. I know that this includes endorsements and I know that he’s a Seattle hero so it makes sense to do local ads. But it seems like my childhood always reincarnates in the weirdest ways. I don’t even mean Rule 34 porn, because as a girl who was born on the internet I’ve seen that coming for a while. It’s when I flip on the kids channel by mistake and Bugs Bunny is suddenly an anime character.

Bugs

For the curious, the one on the right is from a show called "Loonatics Unleashed" and is named "Ace Bunny".

Or when Yosemite Sam comes on and starts rapping.

I’m not sure how long that video will be up since it looks pretty bootleg but it’s ridiculous. It’s an updated version in the same way that Extasy is an updated version of Chiclets.

And that, I guess, is my primary complaint. Today’s stuff isn’t weirder, necessarily. We’ve all gone to therapy for the phenomenon that was Cow and Chicken. It’s just that in the quest to be quirky and kid-friendly most permutations of the standard characters share no traits whatsoever with their ancestors. There’s no consistency of character, and the lines where it got bumped from writer to writer and from studio to studio are blindingly obvious. Even in the case of Bill Nye, who is a real person and so gets a Get Out Of Jail Free card in terms of constantly adhering to character, the effects can be jarring.

With that in mind, I’ll leave you with this reminder of improvements.

Because sorting the damn paper slips was the reason behind 50% of all board-flipping incidents.

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So about the name.

November 2, 2011
The other day I walked down the hallway of my childhood home towards a bedroom. Before I could knock on the door the shoe closet to my right creaked open. From the dark a small foot poked out, then two. My youngest brother whispered from inside.

“Hey Cyra. Knock on the door for me, and then act confused.”

I peered into the closet and made out Liam, wrapped in a blanket, with a laptop, sitting rather uncomfortably on a pile of old work boots and heels.

“Why are you in the closet?” I whispered back.

“I don’t know. I’m just here. Knock on the door. I want to freak out Haydn.”

Haydn is another of my brothers, the next up in age. It was his bedroom door near which we were convening. Suddenly that door burst open, Liam scuttled back into the closet like a hermit crab, and Haydn glared into the dark space. Haydn stands six feet, two inches tall, and at least four feet wide. He has a handsome face but his frame nevertheless renders him an ogre.

“He’s been knocking on my door with his foot for twenty minutes.” he said.

“No I haven’t!” exclaimed the closet.

“I’m filming!”

“You’re a jerk is what you are!”

Both doors closed, and I stood there for a second thinking. I decided to go do something else.

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The Fount Of Chocolate And Hope

November 1, 2011

As always we had less than ten trick or treaters. This keeps happening. We prepare with a huge bowl of colorful sugar as if the entire city were going to come, single file, to our doorstep. But we live in a neighborhood without a lot of kids and our driveway is incredibly long so unless we mark the path with roadflares and an attendent no one on the street is going to see that our porch light is on.

Which means we have leftover candy. A lot of it. Peanut butter pumpkin cups and fudge filled skulls and smarties and reese’s. And the best part is the candy doesn’t belong to anyone. Much as I want to I can’t steal my brother’s trick or treating candy. He worked hard for that stuff, traipsing up and down the street in an itchy costume in the dark for an hour after it stopped being fun.*

But the bowl. The bowl is just a beautiful communal fount of chocolate and hope. The unspoken rule is that we don’t divide it. You don’t get 20 pieces to hoard in your room. You take from the bowl as needed. Snipe a piece on the way out the door to go shopping. Snipe a piece on your return home. Snipe one after dinner. It’s the only way to be fair.

And the cat needs to get let out a lot.

Fount

I'd give it a halo, but I'm too lazy.

*There’s something awfully Machiavellian about Liam. He doesn’t break rules, nor does he cheat. He just finds a way to make the rules work towards his benefit. Candy on Halloween? He turns it into a business, figuring out exactly how to get the maximum load within the window of my mom’s patience. Then she drags him home and he hides it so that she can’t force him to parcel it out over a month.

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Why, hello there..

October 30, 2011

As a new blogger I need to establish myself. I need to let you know what to expect from me. But, as with every human being, I am quite complicated and I can’t say I’m really any kind of enthusiast. I’m not into sports or crafting or stamps in any huge way.

I mean, I could guess as to what is going to factor heavily into this blog. I could make projections. Like this one:

Blog Projections

This is how you know I'm legit. Because I use science.

Hey, look at that, it’s even got a blank data point. This is how little I know myself. And how bad that graph making site was.

In the end, I suppose I’m just pouring out my personality on the internet in the hopes that someone else likes it. Perhaps I should let you know what kind of person I am. Here’s an example. From a forum called “Debate A Christian”.

Reddit Sarcasm

In which I do what can only be termed as "not actually debating at all".