See my vest! See my vest! Made from real Gorilla chest!

July 10, 2007 18 Comments read Attractions, Midwest, Travel, USA, Wisconsin

On the morning of the fourth, Lesley and I decided that the best way to celebrate our freedom whilst the sun was shining would be to poke fun at the captivity of others. Thus, our course was determined, and we made our way to the Racine Zoo. The last time we were there, we were attacked by a tiger, and I was molested by a camel. If this experience was to live up to its predecessor, the animals had their work cut out for them. Luckily, they all had can-do attitudes. The Racine Zoo is no longer free, but a big flashing smile at the entry gate and a suggestion made that perhaps I could appear to be under the age of 15 was enough to get me in for half price, saving myself a grand total of two dollars. Go ahead and mock me. It’s ok. The two dollars isn’t the point. The point is that I can bend retail workers to do my bidding. THAT is true power. First stop was the Castle of Monkeys. Since today is Monkey Tuesday, it feels right and natural to talk about monkey antics today.

At night it turns into the Damn Spooky Castle of Monkeys, and I hear Skeletor takes up residence there.

I’m fairly certain that this is the same monkey that looked so concerned a few years ago after Lesley made a face at him. This time, he kept waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her and clutching at the cage in a “Hello? Let me out, baby! I love you! Don’t you love me?” sort of way, and she kept waggling hers at him. While they were waging eyebrow wars, I wandered over and took pictures of the other monkey, who alternated munching on lettuce and sticking out his tongue at me. Lesley snapped me out of my fascination by indignantly shouting “THAT GODDAMN MONKEY IS FLIPPING ME OFF. That nonchalant bastard!”

Sure enough, the monkey had enough of Eyebrow Wars and was now very calmly sitting on a rock, flipping Lesley the bird. Realistically, she had no choice but to retaliate.

It was a hot enough day outside that many of the animals were hiding out in whatever shade they could find. We only got a glimpse of the lions, the tigers, and the andean bears, but the alligators were out in full force.

And when I say alligators, I mean a shit-ton of tiny alligators. It’s as if they captured half of the hatchlings in the New York City sewer system and used them to populate this tiny pool, forgetting that these cute, foot long handbags will eventually grow into surly, 21-foot long cowboy boots. After taking a picture of the peahen below, she hopped out of her enclosure and followed us around the park like a Peahen Lindsay Lohan, begging us to take more pictures, drinking everything in sight, and making pathetic noises when we stopped paying attention to her.

WOODEN UMBRELLA HAS A FLAVOR. NOM NOM NOM!

The giraffe then tried to intimidate me into not publishing the photograph of his secret rendezvous with with the umbrella, but ever since I discovered that being short places you at exactly the right height for a shockingly perfect nutkick, height no longer intimidates me.

The fuzzy and cute, however, makes me powerless.

Lesley desperately wanted to feed the giraffe some grass, and the giraffe desperately wanted to let her. How could the zoo stop a love this pure? We paid our two dollars! Can’t we feed a hungry animal? The rest of the adventures of the 4th to be continued…

Oh yeah. Like when a clown dies.

March 19, 2007 15 Comments read Attractions, Everything is Terrible, So Terrible It's Amazing

On Sunday there was a big sales event going on at the Tacoma Dome. Something about the radio ads indicated to me that I would really be missing out if I didn’t attend–and not because I believed that there was something there that I desperately needed to own, but rather, the potential for hilarity was extremely high.

These types of events, much like roadside attractions, are irresistable to me. I’m drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Like a shark to a drop of blood. Like a bee to the only person in a group who is intensely allergic to beestings. Like a cliche to a Mellzah blog post.

And I was not disappointed. Friends, it was like being in Tijuana, only with MORE trashy white people. Oh, Tacoma, how I love your aroma! The mariachi music was there. The vendors hustling you to buy leather jackets were there. The ‘designer’ handbags and sunglasses were there. If you didn’t go, and you’ve ever wanted to buy some ‘Dolce & Banana’ you missed out. Furthermore, if you’ve ever felt the need to own a t-shirt with Tupac silkscreened on it, with rhinestone accents bedazzled onto the eyes, teeth, and bling, you TOTALLY missed out.

I spent the majority of my time walking around, biting back giggles. The Scarface ‘framed art’ set me off, however, and I was very nearly temped to buy a piece of Very Serious Art depicting Jesus with the Biggest Crown of Thorns Ever, tattoos, and a river of blood to hang over my bed. However, a clearer head prevailed as I reasoned that at this stage, I cannot afford to scare away any potential suitors who may not understand my love of camp. Now, I don’t really care what gentlemen prefer, but terrifying them away from my bed is certainly not the road to happiness.

And let me make it clear, if it isn’t already: I love camp. The tragically ludicrous, the ludicrously tragic. The Jesus TV trays and inflatable furniture. There is a gene in me that makes me love John Waters with a deep and sick sort of love. It’s the part of me that makes me giggle when I watch Uwe Boll movies. The part that makes me think you can never have too many t-shirts with witty/offensive slogans on them.

It’s exactly that part of me that made me leave the Tacoma Dome with a pair of shoes with wheels in the heels. I’ve never been more pleased to have child-size feet than I was yesterday. The fact that I will eventually crack my head open while wearing them does not concern me. What I have determined so far is that either my balance is really, really substandard, or I am doing this wrong. It’s hard to practice in the apartment, with the approximately 8 square feet of linoleum in my kitchen. It’s even harder to practice outside, with the mocking laughter of children only a faceplant away and the uneven ground to boot. Nevertheless, I am determined to glide around on my wheeled shoes if it kills me. And it may. To that effect, I went to the WinCo yesterday to observe the little rugmonkeys in their natural environment. It appears that the trick is to have one foot well out in front of the other–I’ll have to give it a shot on the warehouse floor just as soon as the boss leaves. Because yes, I wore them to work.

There’s part of me that really would like to dress nicely–to look sharp and be perceived as an adult when I leave the house, for my apartment to look sleek and modern and clutter-free. This part of me is at war with my love of kitsch and crap. How will I ever reconcile the two? As long as I own shoes with wheels in the heels, I think the kitschy crap side of me is winning.

Tonight I go to Flying Lab Software to do a usability test of Pirates of the Burning Sea AND hang out with fraxl and gehn. That’s pretty damn good for a Monday!

Taiwan Part Twelve: Action, Adventure, Amnesia

March 27, 2006 6 Comments read Attractions, Taiwan, Travel

In December, Beth and I went to some sort of Science Fun Fair Mystery Spot Park Thing. I *think* we went with her host family, or someone in her Rotary, because I really don’t recognize any of the people besides us in the picture. Regardless, it was a day of adventure, danger, and fun.

The shirt I’m wearing is the t-shirt of my class. It also may be indicative of my mental age; at any given moment, I’m likely to act like a two-year old.

Beth, posing with the Science Fun Fair Mystery Spot Park Thing’s mascot.

This thing almost killed me. Don’t laugh. Seriously. So it’s a wheel that you run on, to what purpose I could not say. What I did not realize is that the faster I ran on it, the more it tried to suck me underneath and into the swampy bogwater. Such shrieks as I uttered have likely ne’er been equaled at that park before or since.

Here’s Beth’s head on a plate–but where’s her body? It’s a Science Fun Fair Mystery Spot Park Thing SECRET. In the middle of this park, they had what appeared to be a playground, with large plastic dinosaurs posing in happy cartoon stances. It was like an educational museum for kids who would be too frightened by menacing dinosaur skeletons, with little informational plaques in front of each one. As there really wasn’t anyone else there, we decided it would be a shame if we did NOT take advantage of the moment and ride the dinosaurs. Could you NOT have done it? I didn’t think so. Don’t judge. I hear you judging!

It took me about six tries to get up on this thing. It was far too tall and too slippery for me to pull myself up on the side, so I had to literally run up the tail to scramble aboard. I felt like a much fatter, much clumsier Fred Flintstone, but I did it, dammit. Emboldened by our mastery over the Reptile Gods, we continued to explore the park, when lo, out of the brush came that thing which man fears most: a dino wearing a bow tie! The horror! The horror!

There was no way I could escape this beast by the power of my own two legs–I would need a powerful steed, swifter than the wind, and more furious than a hungry wildebeest. Luckily, there was an electric dog nearby!

My life will never be the same, after witnessing the majesty of the Taiwan Science Fun Fair Mystery Spot Park Thing. Don’t your lives also feel enriched as well, now that you’ve shared in the experience?