Tag, sucka!

No, I'm not talking about the old-school version of Tag -- where you'd run around like a jack-ass trying to touch other kids.

I'm talking about the LAZER version of Tag. That's right -- LAZER with a "Z". Only pansies spell LAZER with an "S". And there's no room for pansies in the world of LAZER TAG.

LAZER TAG was introduced when I was a child... and the concept was one of the most glorious things a young boy could ask for. GUNS that shot out LAZERS that would actually HIT A TARGET that your friend was WEARING!! HOOOOOOOOO-LYYYYYYYYYYY SHIIIIIIIIIIT!

Here's what that meant... no longer did "playing gunz" (as we called it) mean you had to pretend you were shooting at your friend, always knowing you had his ass dead-to-rights, but then the little shit would dive around screaming, "You MISSED ME!!!" Instead, now you'd hear that target BEEP every time you pasted the little shit with your sweet red LAZER!

Here's an image from one of the many brilliantly manipulative LAZER TAG commercial:


Notice the sleek black design... the red stripe down the side... that happily smiling kid at the bottom of the screen? Who wouldn't want that?!?! I'll tell you who... a stinkin' Communist, that's who!

Anyway, soon enough there was competition on the market for LAZER TAG's "shoot your buddies" crown -- and it came in the form of Photon. Photon, riding the coat-tails of my beloved LAZER TAG, tried to up the ante by offer Vests and Helmets and other shit with sensors on them... They even made action figures with the "photon technology" built in. What does that mean? It means that each little figure had a gun attached to his hand that shot "photons", and all of the figures also had sensors, so your fuckin' toys could actually shoot each other! Admittedly, that is some cool shit, but it just ain't LAZER TAG.

So, to try to expand and capture further markets, LAZER TAG decided to come out with a cartoon -- LAZER TAG ACADEMY, and a series of books -- "LAZER TAG ADVENTURES".




I must admit that, even as a child, I couldn't get into either of these. You see, when I'm running around with friends pretending to shoot one another, a lazer and some beeping sensors are enough. But when I'm watching (or reading) some sci-fi action shit, I don't want people who get shot to be like, "Oh darn! I beeped! I guess you got me..." Screw that! When Han Solo squeezed the trigger and drop some lazers into the chests of a few Storm Troopers, those fuckers dropped dead. The stakes were high! There was none of that beeping shit going on. Blast someone's ass or you're dead. Period. No second chances. No "score".

You can't build drama, tension, or amp up action with lazers and beeping sensors. That's the first thing I learned in my college creative writing courses. That, and you're never going to be a respected professional writer of fiction unless you develop one major-league bennies habit.

Anyway, shitty spin-offs aside, LAZER TAG kicked some serious ass up and down the block. The only problem was, I was the only one of my friends with a gun and sensor... and I only had one of each.

Oh well, maybe I can find them on eBay and get a pair. Then all I'll need to do is find one of my late-20, early-30 something friends to play with me -- 'cause just once, I want to LAZER TAG someone's sorry ass!

It Comes and Goes...

So my daughter (and therefor the rest of us) has been watching a ton of Animal Planet lately -- shows like The Crocodile Hunter and The Jeff Corwin Experience. Now, I'm all for said viewing since it's both interesting and educational, but I can't help but wonder -- am I the only one who feels screwed because neither Steve Irwin or Jeff Corwin has ever caught, displayed, or even spoken of a Karma Cameleon? I mean, Boy George wouldn't have lied to us all these year, would he?

Couple a things...

First, the wife and I took in Nacho Libre this weekend. I've been reading bad review after bad review of this flick, but the trailers just seemed so damn funny. Plus, we're both big fans of Napoleon Dynamite so it was hard to image this movie being bad.

Well guess what? It was everything we hoped it would be, and MORE! We laughed so hard throughout the entire movie... it felt great! We haven't had a laugh like that in a long time. Thank you, Jared Hess. Thank you, Jack Black. Thank you, Mike White. Thank you for making a funny, un-cynical movie with tons of heart and even more laughs. It's nice to see that some people still find humor in things other than sarcasm, cynicism, and violence.

But before I sound like I'm on a soap box here, I really like sarcasm, cynicism, and violence in my humor... it's just nice to deviate from it once and a while.

In response to such an overwhelmingly positive film experience, I decided to make a custom Stikfas Nacho Libre! And here he is:


Last night while laying in bed, the wife and I re-watched The 40 Year Old Virgin. It's a great flick with some funny-as-hell performances in it. Steve Carrell is a GOD amongst men, as is the highly underrated, yet wickedly funny in everything he does these days Paul Rudd. (check out his performance in Anchorman as well... great stuff.

The reason I bring up The 40 Year Old Virgin is this: in watching the film, I found myself admiring (out loud) all of the various toys and pop culture memorabilia strewn around Steve Carrell's place. It was only after my wife asked me what something was (it was a life-sized bust of the Creature From the Black Lagoon's head), that I realized that stuff wasn't put into the film because it's cool (which is what I think), but instead it's there to show what a geek Carrell's character is.

THEN they showed him maticulously painting -- customizing -- little figures!! OH MY GOD, IT'S ME!!! -- although, I'm not 40 years old, and I'm definitely not a virgin (wink, wink... nod, nod).

Hey, are you laughing at me? Huh?? ARE YOU?? Well you can go to hell! I'm gonna go play with my Nacho Libre action figure that I made! SO THERE!!! ...asshole...

More Customs...

So the company that makes Stikfas now makes these other cool little figures called Cuboyds. And in the spirit of kit-bashing (which is taking 2 kits of these types of figures -- or any figures, really -- and putting them together to make something totally unique) I decided to take one of my Cuboyds, and parts from my Stikfas, and make a whole new figure.

He's a Hybrid, if you will...

I also wanted to try out the painting technique called dry brushing. Since I'm so new to this figure customizing stuff, I have to learn all these techniques and shit. It's so rad!!

Anyway, here's a few pictures of my hybrid Cuboyd/Stikfas along with the crew of kit-bashed Cuboyds where each of the figures in the background is made from 2 Cuboyds so they're bigger.




~ S. Rick

Everything is Cyclical

So I often here people talk about how life is cyclical... I don't mean in the Buddhist Wheel sort of wy, either. I'm talking trends, fads, fashions, etc. -- all of the stuff you find in those trash magazines in the checkout aisle of the grocery store.

When I was in college, it was cool to act as though the 70s were back in style... meaning everyone listened to the Grateful Dead and wore tie-dyes.

I see teenagers walking around now as if they're living in "Pretty in Pink" or something. Hoenstly, you see high school dudes cruising the mall sporting a bright pink polo shirt with the collar turned up like some James Spader screaming preppy asshole character. It's incredible...

So here's what I'm wondering: If all of these fads and fashions and shit come back into style in this cyclical patter, when will The Curly Shuffle make its comeback? I used to dance around the house to that shit like a child posessed! And I'm lookin' to do it again...


Here's my dilemma... Do I try to blaze the trail and bring that shit back into style on my own... essentially try to force the Curly Shuffle circle back in this direction? Or do I wait it out and let nature take its course and bring it back on its own?

Either way, just you wait until I can step into a club and in the same night bust out some Curly Shuffle and a little bit of Kid 'n Play's step-kickin' moves!


Damn skippy, playaz!!
~ S. Rick

May I present... LUCIFER!

Just because I'm enjoying designing them so much, here's the latest in my Shockinis "Butt-Kickin' Jesus and the Apostles" line -- my first villian -- Lucifer!!

(insert dramatic, menacing music here)


I plan to have more accessories for him besides the alternate head, sword, and over-coat... I just don't have time to design them right now. (and I wanted to get the image uploaded since I dig it!)

He's rockin' the suit because I wanted him to be more 'timeless' than Jesus... like he could slip in and out of time-periods at will. And somehow, the 80s are his favorite time, so he likes to rock the Michael Douglas in Wallstreet look...

Can't wait to do more... now if only I could get Shocker Toys to buy this design from me and make them... Hell, screw BUYING the design, just make my toys and give me a case of them for free!!

~ S. Rick

Pleased as Punch

Who the hell is this "Punch", and why is he always so goddamn "pleased"?

I don't trust anyone that is always "pleased". We've all got to be pissed at some point, right?

Screw it. Just to fly in the face of this "Punch" person, from now on I'm going to be "Pissed as Punch".

Take that, ya pleased prick!

~ S. Rick

Geek Born or Geek Made?

I often wonder if I was born a Geek, or if societal demands, home-life, and other outside forces "made me" a Geek...

Then I find pictures like this, and it's really not much of a question anymore...


I would LOVE to be able to laugh at the 2 Geeks in this picture, but that would be self-defeating. You see, that cat on the left, he's Bart -- my best friend and production partner.

And this handsome devil right here? Yep, that's me... So when it comes to Geek-dom, the nature vs. nurture argument can be put to bed. I've been a goddamn Geek my entire life! At least now I can live like a Geek openly, without much fear of ridicule. After all, Geek is the new cool, isn't it?

Well... isn't it?

If I was a Ninja...

If I was a Ninja, I think my Ninja Name would be "Whattha Fucwasthat" because that's what people would be saying after a breeze blew past, and suddenly their buddy was cut in half.

Yeah, that'd be cool...

~S. Rick

The Great Outdoors

Believe it or not, even a self-professed geek like myself actually puts down the action figures, steps away from the computer, and ventures out of the house for something other than to purchase the newest DVD releases on a Tuesday...

Yes, yours truly likes to go fishing. I know, I know... it doesn't seem to fit. Well, nothing about me fits into a neat little package with a label. Let me put it to you this way:

• I'm 29 years old.
• On June 20th I will have been married for 8 years.
• I have 2 kids (7 and 3 years old).
• I have over 20 tattoos.
• I currently have a mohawk.
• I collect action figures.
• I work as a web/graphic designer for a payroll company.
• I'm an independent filmmaker.

Does any of that fit into a neat little package? Nope. And that's just the way I like it!

But back to my point... Wait, did I have a point? Hmmm...

Anyhoo, I dig fishing. A good buddy of mine has a boat (I wish I had a boat...), and he's big into fishing. So a few years back, he got me into fishing. Now, granted, I'm no good at fishing. I stink. I rarely catch anything. But something about being out on a boat on Irondequoit Bay (off of Lake Ontario) on a gorgeous Summer day is just... great. Fish or no fish, it's relaxing as hell.

Well this week, in proof that the sun shines on every dog's ass some days, even the tattooed geek who sucks at fishing caught something!















Here I am holding onto my Sheephead (it's a type of Bass). It's no prize winning fish, but I was happy as hell with it! We throw back everything we catch, and this one was a good one to throw back because it's still really young. Now he'll have a chance to grow, and I'll have a chance to hook his ass again!

In other news, my production partner (and best friend) Bart is coming over this evening, and we're going to be cutting together a trailer for our latest film titled Guiding Finn. Once the trailer is complete, I'll post a link to it here. Until then, check out other trailers from our flicks on our official website: www.indiehorizon.com.

Later,
~ S. Rick

Figure Hunt Continues -- and my 'Dork Factor' Sky Rockets!

As if it wasn't bad enough that I've already written an open love letter to Dollar Stores, now I've found an even better, more exciting, more crap-filled store that is bigger, better, a tad more expensive, but well worth it.

That's right, I'm talking about the Dollar Store's older, hotter cousin...

That den of consumer whorishness...

That mecca for those who don't have enough class to step foot into Wal-mart...












Big Lots is the type of store that sells things that men named Big Pauly and Franky 3 Fingers somehow 'find' after they 'fall off the back of a truck'. Hey, I'm not judging... I love this place! Like I said, it's a bit more expensive than a Dollar Store, but oh the selection!! Where else can you get lawn ornaments, faux-gold jewelry, a bedroom set, a can of Pringels, a new recliner for the living room, and toys, toys, toys? Where, I ask you?? And at discount prices, no less!!!

So I dragged the whole family in there, fresh with the hope of finding that elusive action figure that I've never heard of, but that my soul tells me is out there somewhere. What it looks like, I do not know. But I'll know it when I find it!

To save you the suspense, I didn't find it. But I DID find some other cool figures. They're called Titanium: Poze'ms. Now, I've never heard of these before (which is probably why they ended up tucked behind some fake-plastic wrestlers at Big Lots), but I was immediately impressed.


As you can see, they meet my requirement of having tons of articulation, making them easy to pose and good for stop-motion work. However, they're a bit top heavy, and the joints are not quite tight enough, so they can tip and fall over at the waist.

They're bigger than the often mentioned on this blog Stikfas. Here's antoher photograph for size reference. Stikfas are just over 3 inches tall. The one pictured is my in-progress Buck Rogers custom figure.


As you can see, I snagged a white Poze'm and a blue Poze'm. Big Lots also had an orange one and a lime green one. Chances are, I'll be heading back to pick those up, too.

Within the packaging was an advertisement for other lines of Titanium toys. They had break dancers, street ballers, skaters, a rock band, and the ever present soldiers. Each line of figures looked cool as hell in their own right, so I was pretty stoked. Immediately, I jumped onto the 'net and typed in the company's web address. Nothing. So I jumped onto Google and plugged in their name. What did I get? Old Toy Fair reviews from 2003 and a string of forum posts about the possibility of Hasbro suing over the likeness to Stikfas that Poze'ms have.

Now, I agree that the figures have a similar look to them, bt Stikfas are small, and they're more of a model kit. You actualy have to put them together. Poze'ms are bigger, and they don't come apart. What you buy is what you get. Period.

I have to assume that some suing went on, because I am unable to find out anything about the Poze'm line now... which is too bad. They're a sweet figure that, with a bit of modification to the design, could have been great.

Oh well, I guess I have to snatch up the rest of the stock at Big Lots.

Since I mentioned Stikfas, I can't wait until my 2 new packs come! I won an eBay auction over the weekend for these two sets:

This is the Beta Female Warrior with Dragon.



And this is the Omega Male Armored Knight with Stallion.

Oh yeah, I'm wearing the old Geek Badge with pride today!!

~ S. Rick

OooOOOoo... a Fwaggle!

Have you ever noticed that, as you get older, you realize how utterly stupid the makers of childrens' programming thought you were? I think about it -- probably more often than I should -- and it never ceases to piss me off.

Case in point for today: Fraggle Rock

Now, you'll be hard pressed to find anyone who's a bigger fan of anything and everything that Jim Henson touched. The Dark Crystal was the first DVD I ever bought. Emmit Otter's Jugband Christmas and A Muppet Family Christmas are required holiday viewing in my house. My first tattoo (of which I have over 20) was of Kermit the Frog. In my mind, Jim Henson was one of the great geniuses of the 20th Century, and he was taken from us far too soon.

So, needless to say, I was a big fan of Fraggle Rock growing up. Those wacky adventures of Gobo, Boober (what a great name), Wembley, Mokey, Red, Sprocket the Dog, and occassionaly Uncle Travelling Matt are so ingrained in my psyche that I still find myself humming the theme song. (which gets awkard at work, believe you me)







But my fandom doesn't get in the way of noticing gaping plot holes when I see them. Ok, so we're to believe that the Fraggles live in underground caves that can be accessed through a hole in the wall of some old dudes workshop.





Fine. I can buy that.

We're also to believe that along with the Fraggles, (who have never in the history of man been discovered, yet Uncle Travelling Matt wanders the Earth like David Carradine in Kung Fu and nobody notices) there is a myriad of other creatures -- such as the constantly-building Doozers, the psychic-friends-network Trash Heap and her 2 rat-like cohorts, and the Giants of the Fraggle universe, those Fraggle hating Gorgs.

Fine. I'll buy it. Scientists discover new species of creatures all the time. These ones can have gone unnoticed for all this time.

But here's where things get fuzzy, and I get pissed. The Fraggles and Doozers live underground in a sort of H.G. Wells The Time Machine Morlocks sort of way. But the Trach Heap, her rat -things, and the Gorgs appear to live ABOVE GROUND. The Gorgs grow radishes (which the Fraggles can't resist). They have a GARDEN which requires SUNLIGHT and RAIN to grow. Honestly, if that's the case, these fuckin' things live right in Doc's backyard. Yet nobody knows they exist?

That, I cannot buy.

What other programs have been trying to pull the wool over my eyes since I was just a wee lad? Don't think you're going to get away with it. I'm on to you.

Assholes.

~S. Rick

Confession

Growing up Catholic, I was taught the importance of confession, and how all is forgiven as long as one bares their sins before God. I also learned the importance of ignoring the Priest when he elected me "official wine taster" during my alter-boy days... but that's a different story.

Anyway, here is my confession:

As a youngster, I saw both New Kids On the Block and Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch in concert.












There. I said it.
~ S. Rick

(holy shit, I've seen both Wahlbergs...)

Mincing Words

Did you ever notice that most of the phrases that capture the zeitgeist of our culture from the early 90s and on have been introduced to us by African Americans? And that it's typically Caucasian males that ruin said phrases? I have to say, I feel a little guilty just being a white male... simply because it is other white males that have destroyed so many a great phrases.

Let's go through several, shall we?

Whoop, there it is. -- The rap duo Tag Team introduced us to this one. MTV crammed it down our throats, and we, the white population, made it sounds akin to nails on a chalk board.

What up, Dough? -- This one came from the brilliant film Boyz in the Hood. Ice Cube's character's name was Dough Boy. So when Tre saw him, it was "What up, Dough?" Tragically, I'm still guilty of using this one.

All that and a bag of chips! -- I can honestly say I've always hated this saying... I don't care who ruined it... nobody should have started it. Maybe "All that and a delicious, cream filled Zinger!" would have been better. Or maybe that's just me.

Da Bomb! -- As in, "You da bomb!" Why anyone would want to be a bomb is beyond me, but it used to be a really good thing to be.

My bad. -- Again, I'm still guilty...

Who 'dis? -- Another one brought to us by Boyz in the Hood. It's a way to answer the phone.

Don't go there! -- This one was killed by the white ladies, not the fellas. Seriously, is there anything worse than hearing a white chick throw this one out there?

Gettin' Jiggy with it -- Ok, so this one may have come from Will Smith, but his core audience has always been about 97% white. So I guess we technically didn't ruin it, since I never heard a self-respecting African American say it in the first place.

It's all good! -- Not sure where this one came from. But I know whitey ruined it. Even when modified to 'It's all good in da hood', we stil managed to try and assimilate it into our vocab. Pathetic...

Mad and Dope -- As in, "Yo, her ass is MAD fine!" and "This song is the DOPE track." Both are still being butched by suburban white kids today.

Phat -- You know, the more I type, the more I hate white males... Such racial self-loathing cannot be good, but I can't help it. I mean shit... we're a bunch of dudes that used to think Corey Haim and Corey Feldman were cool. What right do we have to even voice an opinion, let alone try to adopt the slang from a different, cooler culture?

Trippin' -- I feel more and more cracker-like just typing these...

Dawg -- Granted, that lame dude on American Idle (I know, it's Idol, but I like my way better) says it all the time. But it was ruined by us WAY before he started in with it.

Whacked -- As in, "Yo, that bitch is whacked!" This one is tough. As far as I can tell, 'whacked' has gone through several incarnations. It used to mean someone who was killed (typically by the mob). As in, "Jimmy the Nose was talkin' too much, so he went and got himself whacked." Either way, dudes like me shouldn't ever have been using it.

Even though there are plenty of more examples, I'll leave you with just one more:

Word! -- Again, this is one I'm still guilty of saying. Why? I have no idea. But I know I can't help myself. Just like I can't help myself from pulling terms from the 80s out in daily conversation such as wicked, sweet, and rad. They're just a part of me. I'm not proud of it, but that's who I am.

Will the guilt I feel for being a white male and taking part in ruining perfectly good slang introduced to us by our African American brothers and sisters even subside? I doubt it. Because I know that it's a cycle that is never going to end. I may be fairly out of touch with 'kids these days', but I see them in my neighborhood... silly suburban white kids who all think they're a part of Kid 'n' Play, when they come off looking more like members of New Kids on the Block. And they speak all 'street' even though their Dad's drive Volvos. It's sad, but it's a part of life. Only together can we face this problem and overcome it. Maybe I can lobby some politicians and get some PSAs (those are Public Service Annoucements) made that can play on Nickelodeon and the Cartoon Network. We've got to get kids young if we're ever going to get a handle on this problem.

Can you imagine Al Gore partnered with Elmo and those goddamn Wiggles dudes on the ol' boob-tube, telling young kids that just because they hear a phrase in a rap song, that doesn't mean it should be adopted into their popular lexicon? Not that there's anything wrong with the terms they hear. Quite the contrary. The terms are just too damn cool for suburban white kids. It's that simple. Yeah, that would be an awesome PSA!

Until then, keep it real, G! Word!
~ S. Rick

Dollar Store Jumpin'

Every so often, you get an idea for a post that excites you. I'm not talking about "gee, I wish I had a pillow to cover my lap with here at work" excitement, but a more subdued, family-friendly "can't wait to see where this random bit of shit is gonna take me" kind of excitement.

With me now? Good.

Where to begin? Well, on Friday I had a vasectomy. (See, I told you this would be fun!) I know, that's an odd way to start things off, but I said it, you read it, and we can move on knowing we're that much closer now. I would think that this paragraph is kind of like "sharing" at an AA meeting. Not to downplay the importance of that... just to say that it's not a comfortable thing to say or to hear, but we've done it, the sharing has happened, and we're better people for it.

Back to the vasectomy. I'm 29 years old. I've been married for 8 years. I have 2 wonderful children (a girl and a boy), 3 dogs, and my life is exactly where I want it to be. So the wife and I discussed it, and we know we don't want anymore kids. For my wife to "get fixed", it would have been much more intrusive, and potentially very dangerous. For me, it was an in and out procedure. I drive myself there -- I drive myself home. Bing. Bang. Boom. Done. So, it only made sense. I've heard a lot of guys talk about "losing their manhood" and other such lame-ass macho bullshit. That ain't me. I consider myself more of a man for stepping up to the plate and doing what is right to ensure no "oops" babies, and no danger to the wife. So there, you macho-pricks! Kiss my spermless ass!

However, a part of this whole process was extremely surreal. You see, there's pretty much 1 doctor in town that performs this oh-so delicate procedure, and his name is Dr. Stopp. Give it a moment... Ok, now say it out loud... the vasectomy doctor's name is Stopp.

Oh, but I ain't even hit the surreal part yet. You see, Dr. Stopp has been doing this a long time... a really long time. Hell, he performed my father's vasectomy (and he was old then). There's something so surreal (and inherently wrong) abot going to the same guy your father went to... I can only imagine it would be like your father taking you to a suburban cat-house when you turn 16 and you lose your virginity to the same woman he did... you just don't want to travel down that road.

Lucky for me, even in his golden years, Dr. Stopp has a keen eye and a steady hand. Everything is still where it should be and in perfect working order.

Anyway, what does my vasectomy have to do with the Dollar Store? I'm getting there...

Even though the procedure is quick and (relatively) painless, the recovery is fairly delicate. Too much movement over the first few days and the family jewels will swell like a nerf ball in a pool. So I had to take it easy over the weekend.

Well, yesterday (Sunday), I was starting to get a little sick of taking it easy. Granted, I really don't want an aching grapfruit dangling between my legs, so I'm going to listen to doctor's orders, but I also needed to get out of the house. And for some reason, I was hell bent on hitting the Dollar Store. As has been noted in my blogs, I'm somewhat of an action figure junkie. It is always my quest to find new, rather obscure action figures, so something the wife said to me on Saturday had stuck.

She'd just gotten home for a quick grocery run (as part of the pampering she bestowed upon me all weekend), and in her hand was a Dollar Tree bag. "What the hell did you go there for?" I asked. "Just looking for some fun little things for the kids to do." Sh proceded to pull out 2 Spiderman puzzles and a Spiderman Yo-Yo for the boy, and a two girlie puzzles and a Little Mermaid Yo-Yo for the girl. Also in the bag were 2 wooden birdhouses that she was going to have them paint when they got really bored (it was a rainy weekend -- lots of in the house time).

As usual, she'd done a bang-up job. She knows the kids, and knows how to keep them happy, even when cooped up in the house for 2 days.

"Nicely done." I said. She smiled, and I tried to smile back, but my boys were aching like I'd just been kicked with a steel-toe work boot. "I almost got something for you, too." She said. Instantly, my ears perked up. "What?"

"Well, they had these cool little action figures that made me think of you. They had a bunch of joints, so their arms and wrists and stuff all bent."

"Cool! What did they look like?"

"I can't remember, exactly. Oh shoot, I should have just gotten them for you."

"That's Ok, we can go back!" I tried to stand, but the kicked feeling intensified and I sat back down. "We can go tomorrow."

So Sunday rolled around, and although I was still hurting pretty good, I was hell bent on finding these figures the wife had teased me with. So we packed up the family and drove to the Dollar Tree.

If you've never been into a dollar store, you're just not living. Think of all of the crap people sell on their "Miscellaneous Items" tables at garage sales, only in brand-spanking-new condition, and that's what you'll find at a dollar store. Toys, books, cooking utensils, frames, magnets, flashlights, sewing and craft supplies, pet supplies, various snacks and food items, socks, pantyhose... and that's just 2 aisles!

It's a varitable cornucopia of definitely weird, mostly useless shit. It's like finding that dusty trunk in your grandmother's attic and opening it up, your mind whirling with the wonderful treasure you may potentially find. Granted, all you ever find are her old girdles, strange sunglasses, and a musty smelling afghan... but it's that potential that gets your blood flowing. Dollar stores are the same way. You only ever find crap, but the potential to find that rare treasure is always there.

But I digress... So, as a family, we crusied into Dollar Tree full of the promise of a cool new action figure. But, as is often the case with Dollar Stores, the merchandise turns over faster than the cast of the Major League films. (Good for you, if you got what I meant there) Needless to say, no action figure... Slightly disheartened, I suggested we hit another Dollar Tree not to far down the road. The fam was up for it, so off we went.

Dollar Tree #2 was bigger than #1, but also did not carry this mystery figure the wife had told me about. Now, in any other store, I would have become seriously disheartened. But this was Dollar Tree for God's sake! There was weird shit abound, and down any aisle untold treasure could possibly be found. So instead of getting bummed out and going home, we strolled up and down the aisles, laughing at the myriad of bizzare wares for sale.

Typically, 2 dollar stores would be enough for anyone on a fine Sunday afternoon, but not my clan! No, in Dollar Tree #2, we armed the children each with a small toy and some fruit snacks, and we headed out to yet another dollar store. This time, it wasn't a Dollar Tree. I cannot remember the name right now, but I can assure you it had the word "dollar" in the title.

This store was smaller, darker, and a bit scarier than the Dollar Tree franchises we'd been frequenting, but that only added to the charm. You see, a little less light and some slightly more cramped quarters just added to the feeling that an ellusive treasure was right around the corner.

Alas, no treasure was to be found. (unless you count the 12 inch generic Pirate figure in the bright, sequented shirt... 'Arrrrr' indeed.)

One might think of our jaunt through the world of 1 dollar priced merchandise as a failure. Well not me! We got to see a world rarely observed through such a wide lens. We hit 3 seperate dollar stores, each with their own distinct charms. We observed the geriatric shopper, unwilling to pay grocery store prices for ziploc bags and cling wrap. We learned that you can get Orville Redenbocker Butter Lovers' popcorn for a mere $1 for 4 bags! And 4 puches of Scooby-Doo fruit snacks? Again, my friend... simply $1.

And the love of your children? Well, there's no need to spend a fortune at Toys-R-Us... No, sir! Less than $3 per child and they're about as well behaved as humanly possible!

So I say, the next time you're hitting up Wal-Mart or Target in the local strip-mall, don't turn your nose up to that Dollar Store sitting there next to Payless Shoes and Blockbuster. Stop in with an open mind, a few bucks in your pocket, and a sense of adventure, and I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

And if you happen to find a cool generic action figure that seems to have a lot of articulation, drop me a line. I'm still on the look-out for the one my wife "should have bought" for me.
~ S. Rick

Workspace Clutter

Not too sure why, but I was just looking around my desk within my little cubicle here at work, just taking in all of the crap I have. And I don't mean work crap... that crap is expected. No, I'm talking about all of the other crap that's kicking around my cube. The crap that is supposed to say, "Hey all of you office lemmings, I'm different from you! I'm an individual! I'm quirky and cool, and you're not! This is my workspace, and it's going to be a reflection of me!"

But is it? I'm not sure... Let's take stock of what's around my desk.

Sitting in front of my monitor are action figures of Yoda and Darth Vader. Yoda is actually standing atop a Rubix Cube so as to match up better with Darth in their light saber duel. Also in front of my monitor is a calculator, several different sized pads of Post-It notes, the top to a bottle of Pepsi, and a Kudos Chocolate Chip Granola bar.

*Yum! I'm going to need to eat that once I finish the watermelon flavored Blow Pop I'm currently enjoying.*

On top of my monitor is a blue stress ball, a scary looking Mickey Mouse Pez dispenser, a picture of my son when he was a baby, and a print-out of a Dilbert cartoon that says "Out out!! You demons of stupidity!"

Tacked to the cube wall to my right is a newspaper clipping with a picture from one of my films talking about the Rochester International Film Festival (which the film played in and was voted one of the Best of the Fest), the intructions to Battleship, and 3 different Stikfas postcards.







Also sitting atop my desk itself is a Lord of the Rings cave troll figure from Burger King, a poker chip, a green plastic slinky, a half-empty Pepsi bottle, a thermos of Iced Tea that my lovely wife made for me last night, my iPod Shuffle, and 3 framed pictures of my kids. I also have a mug I pilfered from an office breakroom years ago (that has someone else's initials on it) filled with various paper and binder clips.

So what does all of this crap say about me?

Shit, how should I know. I'm not a psychologist!
~ S. Rick