InASense Lost

InASense, Lost… No To Boobs, But Blood’s Okay?

Posted on by sgottahurt

This is a post I’ve been meaning to write for awhile.  When I recently went to the theater to see the wretched Friday the 13th remake/revision/re-fried beans, there was a father behind me with his 8-10 year old son.  I had a major ass-id flashback when I overheard him telling his son, “Cover your eyes!” whenever nudity was shown.

“Cover your eyes!”  The adage of the forbidden.  The phrase my parents often demanded of me when renting schlocky horror and fantasy films (they were my dad’s favorite VHS tapes to rent) whenever there was any hint of an upcoming boobs, butts, or both.

In fact, at the showing of F13, there were a fair amount of kids.  My favorite was a dumpy looking mother with her dumpy looking tween son that was wearing a Girls Gone Wild t-shirt.

What bothers me is that these parents don’t even stop to consider what these films do to their kids’ brains (if they have any, for that matter – the big dopes or their offspring).

At least the father behind me was sorta censoring his spawn’s input.

As an example of the warping that can occur, let me bring up a few things that warped my mind in the original series:

1) It made me scared of NYC.  I haven’t been sure of the origin of my fear.  This intro makes it look not-so-inviting:

2) It made me scared of loud random noises.  In the middle of the night one time, I kept hearing this scary uggh type noise.  I thought the devil was speaking through my TV or something.  Ended up being a spider in the fire alarm, but whew!  I flipped the fuck out.  Now listen to the crap noise they call “music” that plays through the opening of Jason Goes to Hell: The Final (hah!) Friday:

3) It made me scared of getting naked, et. al.  People die, folks.  People die!  That’s why I shower in my bathing suit.  Just in case.

InASense, Lost… What Is It With Kids These Days

Posted on by sgottahurt

When I was just a wee lad back in the day (I’m prepping for St. Paddy’s), it was awful fun for the adults give kids a sip of beer and watch their reactions.  I’m the oldest boy of all the cousins on my father’s side, and for quite awhile I was the only boy (my brother broke the streak when I was nine… there were nine girls and me… ever notice how the more girls there are, the higher the octave of screeching goes?)

What I’m getting at is it wasn’t uncommon for my elders to make me the butt of the joke.  Some might have thought it would encourage drinking, but I never took a sip of alcohol (not counting my relatives’ pranks) until I turned 19 and could legally do so in Canada.  My other tendencies in alluded-to innocence: I was more interested in Nintendo than IN-tendo (if you catch my innuendo), smoking was a disgusting habit my parents had and I swore I would never have, and drugs… well, I’d stick only to any of the natural kind.

But nowadays, you have 13 year olds becoming fathers…

…parents pulling new tricks on their kids for laughs (and filming it and putting it on YouTube… “Thanks Dad… what are you, like, thirteen, or something?”)…

…or teaching their kids to be pretty good at smoking.

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I guess you could always over indulge your child and baby them so they can become insulated and protected from the rest of the world (read: spoiled), that they never have to deal with R|E|A|L|I|T|Y.  Heaven forbid someone take their Cloudsong…

InASense, Lost… The Third Film Of A Series, Then In 3-D!

Posted on by sgottahurt

I’m on a bit of a Friday the 13th bender, and I’m happy to say that the third film in the series was originally in 3-D.  Which in the olden days meant random objects were held up and pointed at you… Eeeeeek!  Scary!

( Man, how I already miss Don LaFontaine.)

In this film, aside from the opening credits, I was “shocked” to have the following things aimed/thrown/extended at me:

  • a laundry line
  • a TV antenna
  • a rat walking out on a plank
  • a fake looking snake leaping
  • a baseball bat held back by a child
  • a joint
  • a wrapped-up eyeball
  • a bundle of hay
  • a wallet
  • a chain through a windshield
  • a fist threw a car window
  • a yo-yo
  • a girl climbing a ladder
  • a pitchfork (its handle)
  • a pitchfork (its… forks)
  • a double dose of different pitchfork handles
  • a machete blade, walking by
  • juggling apples and oranges
  • a harpoon shot… (also the first time Jason wears his hockey mask)
  • popping popcorn
  • a hot fire poker
  • an eyeball popping out of a squeezed head (SRSLY)
  • a bookshelf full of books
  • a girl (our hero) dropping from rafters
  • then Jason dropping as well
  • finally, Jason’s chasin’ hands (<–good band name, btw)

With the reinvigorated hoopla about 3-D films, I can’t wait to see what will be thrust at me next!

InASense, Lost… Toys Are Not For Wii Ones

Posted on by sgottahurt

My sister, Tammie, had a good chortle guffaw chuckle when she heard me ask this one time:

Hey Chris, what does it mean when my Wii’s glowing blue?

She lost it, and upon thinking how ridiculous it sounded out of context, others joined her giggles, myself included.  As it turns out, she may slowly be turning into my foil.

Let me further explain.

Last night, one of my friends stopped by with his two sons.  They’re cute enough, nice enough kids, but where my friend made the mistake was to inform his children that I had toys.

What I have are not toys.  They’re collectibles.  Two totally different things.

Upon arriving, and not expecting them to stay long as I had mentioned plans to head to trivia, the boys whipped off their scarves and knit caps and bundled coats and proclaimed, “Where’s the toys?”

I begrudgingly lead the trio back to my DVD room (yes, they have their own room… they kinda require a room when they reach 1200+).  In there, I have Indiana Jones figures, Lego playsets, Transformers, and Matt Trakker of M.A.S.K. re-released as a G.I. Joe, all in their packages.  Of course, the first thing to reached for is Trakker.

“I know how to put this together,” the oldest proclaimed.

“So do I,” was my response as I put it back.

On one of the cabinets, I have some open figures on display which include mini Ninja Turtles, mini Transformers, a mini Grimlock cartoon figure that does not move, and both versions of Bumblebee from the Michael Bay movie.

They moved onto these collectibles, and within minutes, Grimlock was in pieces (I don’t think he’s supposed to come that much apart, if even at all), the rubberbands holding the weapons in the Turtles’ hands were snapped, and the ’77 Camaro Bumblebee was being stabbed by his own laser sword.

I have learned patience through all the years of working with computers, but when it comes to children—

My friend kept talking to me and I kept thinking, doesn’t he see what they’re doing?  The youngest had to go #2 and took Raphael with him.  Raphael!  RAPHAEL?!

When they were finally getting packed up to ship out, I told my friend he could visit with them again in about 10 years.

Now back to Tammie.  As I recounted the situation to her, she just laughed at me again.  The definition of a foil according to Answers.com:

One that by contrast underscores or enhances the distinctive characteristics of another: “I am resolved my husband shall not be a rival, but a foil to me” (Charlotte Brontë).

She said, “You do realize you’re complaining about children playing with your toys.”

I still can’t find Grimlock’s lower jaw.

InASense, Lost… 80’s Pop Culture Reference That I Missed

Posted on by sgottahurt

My sister, Becky, recently started a blog about things she learns everyday called SomethingKnew.  Since I’m usually forgetting things, I thought I’d pay tribute to her site by recounting something new that I learned.

Today, I discovered the origin of a nickname I received when working overnight at Target.  I didn’t even know there was a basis for the moniker.  Whereas most of the other overnighters bounced around departments in the store, my only job was to take care of Plastics – the unpacking and organizing of all large Rubbermaid and Sterilite containers.  I always had a bunch of cardboard by morning, and the trash compactor runner guy, Greg, used to call me Baby Plas.  He called my friend, John, the Gordon Fisherman for some unknown reason, and my friend, Rodney, simply Dangerfield out of necessity, I guess. 

And I didn’t think much about it.  I thought it was just an odd yet obvious choice.  (For example: if I was dubbed, say, the Trix Rabbit, I would have wondered where it came from, much like I did with John the Gordon Fisherman.)  Somewhere inside me, I resigned to the fact that it teetered on the Dangerfield zone of unoriginality.

Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon this facet of pop culture that escaped me:

Baby Plas was a reference to “The Plastic Man Comedy/Adventure Show.”  Baby Plas was Plastic Man’s baby.  I worked with plastics.  I was more the Gordon Fisherman than John would ever be.  I was more Dangerfield in every sense of the word.

And I missed basking in the nickname. 

For shame.

InASense, Lost… Heil Zoo Keeper!

Posted on by sgottahurt

Over Winter Weekend Break Part 2, I stopped at a Best Buy store, and this “game” caught my eye:

Um... yeah...

Um... yeah...

I mean, how could I nazi it?

It wasn’t on the display with all the games in the regular section, it was in the main aisleway, right there on the first rack… or was it second… no, third reich.

The game was on clearance for $14.99, and I didn’t even have to axis why.  Just look at it!

I was supposed to go get some things I need, like the 3-TP’s (toilet paper, tooth paste, Tarts Pop), rather than things I want.  That’s why you should never gestapo at an electronics store while running an aryan.  (I’m done.)

InASense, Lost… There’s Always Room For Jello – From Hell!

Posted on by sgottahurt

After a full day of recovery from the nightmare that was New Years Day (although I did enjoy the NHL Winter Classic game between the Detroit Red Wings and the Chicago Blackhawks and “Hamlet 2“), I can finally pinpoint and take issue with the source of my dismay: Jello Shots.

I will be having nightmares.

I will be having nightmares.

Now, in concept and in limited amount, Jello shots aren’t really much trouble.  They’re not much of anything, other than, I guess the illusion of fun.

But here’s the truth – they’re time bombs.  Ticking wiggly fruit-flavored time bombs.  Especially if you eat, like, 30 of them (maybe it was less, but to say less seems wussy… so I’m sticking with 30!).  On top of that, you’ve been working on polishing off a keg for four hours.  And I know my body has a rough go at handling one kind of liquor, let alone a plethora.

Fuck those little sweet M-80’s.  I pray I never seem them again for awhile any time soon.

Bill Cosby… how could you have forsaken me?

InASense, Lost… It’s Not Always A Wonderful Life! (Bummer…)

Posted on by sgottahurt

I wish I had a million dollars! No, I really mean it...

I wish I had a million dollars! No, I really mean it...

My favorite film of all time is “It’s a Wonderful Life!”

Call me maudlin, call me a tool, call me a sap (which would render me a sentimental tree tap?)  Okay you can add “lame” to that list, but if you do not agree, you may need to give the flick another look.

The story of a man unknowingly fulfilling his destiny is a classic unparalleled.  There are some moments so honest in the film that I wish cloning existed to give us another Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed.

The reason I bring it up today (besides the obvious Christmas ties) is to tie it to another one of two other subjects:

  1. The modern housing market crisis
  2. The belly flop of a film, “Delgo”

    Yum yum for my tum... is that peanut butter mixed with mango?

    Yum yum for my tum... is that peanut butter mixed with mango?

For those of you unfamiliar with the independent cut-scenes from a video game film, here’s the preview:

The ties between films are as follows:

  • Both were considered flops upon their initial release.
  • …

Okay, there’s not much of a connection between them, and if I ever see “Delgo,” I may be hard pressed to expand that list.  The biggest purpose for bringing the creepy CGI film up is because the production breaks my heart.  On it’s opening weekend, the movie averaged two viewers per showing.  Two.

From Yahoo:

…the making of “Delgo” has the makings of a great Hollywood underdog story. 36-year-old entrepreneur Marc Adler decided he wanted to direct and produce a $40 million computer animated kids’ flick completely independent of Tinseltown behemoths like Disney and Dreamworks.

…And when Adler couldn’t get a Hollywood studio interested in his movie, he raised eyebrows by releasing it himself through distributor-for-hire Freestyle Releasing. It was a huge risk; one that ultimately didn’t pay off. There wasn’t the sort of marketing budget needed to make a film stand out in the already crowded holiday movie season.

Okay, it doesn’t help the movie received horrible reviews, and its main stars were Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Jennifer Love Hewitt, but–

Wait!  There’s another correlation between the films:

  • Sometimes the bad guys with all the money win.

More InASense, Lost… Beer For Kids

Posted on by sgottahurt

Okay, this is in Japan, but still…

Actually, maybe selling alcoholism is better than selling sluttiness because you know how drunk girls can get!  Heh heh…

I’m going back to bed.  See you next year.

Here’s a special seasonal one:

InASense, Lost… Frightening Stuffed Dogs

Posted on by sgottahurt

It’s Christmas, and as Perry Como likes to claim (even though he’s lying!), “The traffic is terrific!”

I, myself, on the other hand, insert foot in mouth, would like to point out something that is not so terrific, and may in fact be terrifying.  Check out this ad for a toy that takes the “Pound Puppies” into the “Bratz” teritory (sorry… got on an italics kick).  World meet “Tini Puppini“:

As the Little Drummer Boy might ask, “Do you hear what I hear?”  Go back to about the 0:22 mark on the video.  Besides the overall sluttiness we’re selling to our youth (which I don’t personally don’t have a problem with because when these girls turn 18… yowza!), do we really have to sell slutty dogs, too?

Okay, now if you heard “You’re such a ho!” I want you to go back and listen again with this pun in mind: “You’re such a howl!”  Did you do it?  You won’t hear ho again after knowing that’s what they say.

Anyho, I was kidding about the slutty kid thing above… It really is scary that backwards-ass parents would even consider wrapping up anything like this or “Bratz” dolls for their daughters as a gift.  I say, let girls become ho’s on their own terms, in their own time.  They don’t need dolls and stuffed animals to rush them.  Or shorts or sweatpants with writing on the butt… As much as I love reading asses, kids should have a clean slate.

BONUS SCARY STUFFED ANIMAL ACTION (via The Ghost Hunters via The Soup):

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