Ridicule is the burden of genius

I’m married to one of those men who watch too much television in general, and way too much fishing television in particular. I long ago stopped feigning even a mild interest in watching men hyperventilate and/or overreact over the simple act of catching a fish, which just doesn’t seem to hold nearly the mystery and allure for some of us that it does for others (and we’re not really sorry that we don’t share the love).

Anyway, the other day one of the fishing shows took a commercial break. I was reading and trying not to listen, but you know how the volume tends to go up when it’s commercial time, so that even if you’ve gone into the other room you don’t miss the sales pitch. It was an ad for Duck Hunter, an indoor hunting game. A father and son were shown enjoying themselves, their “camo” clothing matching the upholstery and curtains in their house, à la Sound of Music, as they gleefully shot infrared beams at the fake duck, which flapped its fake wings and flew around the house, carefully navigating objects like ceiling lights. Tell me this is how it would play out at your place, where there are clearly no impediments to indoor flight by an blind winged item that’s tossed randomly into the air. Meanwhile, it takes three successful shots to kill the duck, or stop its flight, so you’ve gotta work to take him down.



















Indoor hunting games…almost as fun as indoor motocross and at a fraction of the cost. I might even get my guy the extreme indoor/outdoor version. Imagine, his playing outside!

Keep up or fall behind

It’s getting to be that time of year again, isn’t it? You knew you were feeling busier lately than you’d been in, say, mid-July, when everything was kind of in a hazy, summery soft-serve mode. Then September arrived to pick up the pace, and you probably managed to keep in step. But it just so happens that the exact moment when people start thinking about holiday plans usually coincides precisely with an abrupt acceleration of their workloads, stress levels, and internal clock speeds. This week felt like a game of Wild Planet Hyper Dash to me; how about you? The game challenges one’s coordination, math and teamwork skills, overall speed, ability to create mnemonic devices and/or acronyms, knowledge of commercial lyrics/arcane trivia, and patience. It also leaves you a little breathless, with a rapid heartbeat, an adrenaline overload, and a healthy amount of self-doubt. If you’re going to stay on top of things in this, our modern world of today, you’ve got to be able to handle, or better yet, enjoy that sensation of being overburdened on as many levels as possible. Wild Planet Hyper Dash is only trying to help. Ready?

Double take/Memory Lane #7

Lazy Sunday afternoons often find me thinking about days gone by; then, as now, there’d often be a football game droning in the background, which meant some of us were going to be very restless without alternative entertainment options. Yesterday I was doing some deep cleaning (someone tell my mother-in-law, please) and found a few of the games that used to enchant us for hours.












Which witch? was so much fun! You tried to get yourself out of the haunted house made of cardboard…it was a “real,” three-dimensional house, crafted with such intricacy that I often found myself feeling as though I were really inside. I guess I was easy that way. Our family always got a little too rough with the whammy ball down the chimney part of the game, and then arguments tended to break out, which means my cardboard mansion is kind of flattened and bent and doesn’t much resemble the cover. I treasure it nonetheless.














And who didn’t love Strolling Bowling? Much to my surprise, this game is still on the market, keeping up with all of today’s fancy electronic devices. Trust me, kids, Guitar Hero has nothing on this game. See, the ball has little feet, and it “walks” over to the pins. Talk about a fast-paced game of skill and action! Plus, get it? Strolling bowling? Great, great game. Kind of. Okay, we never really played with it.

















On the other hand, we were cuckoo for Odd Ogg. You rolled one of the little balls his way, trying to aim beneath him, or at least between his hands. Hit him in the right place and he’d move forward, but if your ball gave him “the bad touch,” he’d move backward and stick out this big red tongue and give you the raspberry. The concept of a toy that would mock you when you made a mistake—why more companies didn’t follow Ideal’s lead will always be beyond me! Playing with Ogg was one of the best rehearsals for real life I ever experienced.

Games people play

Tonight we’re planning some at-home fun and mayhem (sorry, kids, this one’s for ages 12 and up only). We recently picked up this really fun game, A Look at Alcohol & Tobacco, and can’t keep ourselves away from it! It’s a good thing an answer key’s included, because after a few hours, no one seems to care how much an ounce of alcohol is, or how many belong in “one drink.” (we love those quotation marks; they know us so well!) We also enjoy taking a look at tobacco, which seems to complement our alcohol quite nicely; they make an attractive pairing.

















The morning after we play this game usually finds us spending lots of time in the bathroom and praying fervently to our St. Vivian figurine. Vivian’s the patron saint of hangovers—you knew there had to be one, didn’t you? Actually, she has a bit of an “I told you so” expression on her face, but we’re willing to turn to anything for assistance in difficult moments. We hollowed ours out and stuffed her with aspirin, so now she’s kind of the Pez dispenser of hangover patron saints; please go with whatever works best for you. And please shut the door quietly on your way out.

How'd they do that?

Not long ago someone told me about Farm in a Jar, with its compelling combination of facts, trivia, games and activities. It sounded like a great present for some of the younger people in my life, many of whom seem not to know things like where food comes from or how to behave in public, although they’re very helpful to have around when the computer breaks. I decided to order one for an upcoming gift-giving occasion.
















Then came the requisite six to eight weeks of down time, during which my mind was all a-flutter, trying to picture as many farm games and facts as I already knew and hoping for more of the same (because farm fun is enjoyable at all ages). You may well imagine my disappointment, then, when instead I received



















fart in a jar! They must have been right beside each other on the shelf, or someone was in a rush, or something. I thought of returning it—unopened, of course—but as it turned out the gift was quite well received.

Stylin'

Do you have today off? Much to my displeasure, I do not, which kind of negates the concept of a national holiday and starts the week on a bit of a blue note. But after spending much of the weekend playing with my new board game, Lifestyles of the Poor and Disgusting, I almost relish the idea of earning a few bucks. There are no champagne wishes or caviar dreams here; it’s a harsh introduction to the lifestyle many of us have been enjoying for quite some time. Players vie for food, shelter, clothing and the ever-coveted transportation while trying not to become depressed or anxious by their overdue bill notices and lack of ability to feed themselves. Manufacturer suggests optional use as a drinking game. One can even make arrangements for Robin Leach to come and narrate a few rounds; his cell phone number is included at no extra charge.

Playing the spoons

I grew up in a monetarily-deprived household but was blissfully unaware of it because kids will play with anything if they’re not too commercially exposed (this may no longer be humanly possible). We always seemed to have an endless variety of activities, games and toys, and not just the standard stuff. For instance, we had hours of fun in the basement pretending a fold-out ironing board was a pommel horse and doing “gymnastics.” I didn’t realize at the time how frequently we managed to get double duty out of things that weren’t intended for play, but when I think back, I realize we made toys out of everything.

I’m sure if these wooden spoon puppets had been on the market back then, we’d have owned a set. Hell, we probably would gleefully have played with undecorated wooden spoons, much less ones with necklaces and moustaches. Soon you’ll find yourself eyeing other kitchen implements and making comparisons. I think my tongs could use a little cardigan, and my spatulas might look kind of sharp in that shirt/tie combo.

Hands on

Have you ever been playing a card game and suddenly realized you’re having more than a little difficulty holding onto your hand, like someone greased the cards? Perhaps this is because life dealt you a disservice, such as arthritis, trigger finger or the dreaded clumsy gene. It’s rough being one of those all-thumbs types for whom tasks that seem simple to the rest of us—such as shoe-tying, applauding, or card-holding—become daunting, and usually failed, dexterity tests. Or maybe it’s just that you drink too much on poker night. Either way, you can now solve the problem by pretending to have made a stylish choice (a great way to disguise a weakness or impediment of any flavor) with triangle card holders. They really give your game some flair.

And if you really want to trump your poker-playing pals, or that crazy bridge group, get a pair of thermoskin arthritic gloves and use them with the card holders. The gloves trap body heat, which is what gloves do. Trapped body heat, like any other heat, will make your body’s natural healing processes kick into high gear. Yep, it’s that simple. They’re also a lot cooler than Ben-Gay. There’s an authoritative aura about them, a little hint of dominatrix that you’ll probably enjoy. We think Betty, our product model, stole this pair.

Games of bang and bash/Memory Lane #5

Before there were video games not many toys allowed children to vent their frustrations, unlike now, when they can wage war on an untold number of enemies with a great deal of bloodshed and gore, to their unending satisfaction and glee. But, believe me, kids were just as mean and violent back in the day, and so games like these were especially popular.













Bang Box was great. You put some balloons in the box labeled “danger explosive,” then hammered nails into them until they burst. And if you were a girl, you screamed in that shrill, high-pitched ear-piercing way each time you made contact with a balloon. Usually our mom would take this game away after only a few rounds.

Bash! was also a real knockout, as the package advertises. The commercial really made you want to play it, too. You’d stack disks of plastic between this poor man’s head and feet and take turns hammering at them, trying not to make the entire stack fall.

If you had both games, and at least one sibling, that means you had two plastic hammers; forget the games themselves. And we weren’t little sissies wearing protective gear or helmets, nor did we have any rules about not hitting above the waist. The hammers might not look like much, but they packed a wallop, especially on the still-forming skulls of the youngest players.

Games of skill and action/Memory Lane #4

Remember Air Trix? You got a Styrofoam ball, and had to keep it suspended in an “airstream” that came from your battery-operated air gun. You maneuvered your way through an exciting and challenging obstacle course and then you went out and got a bowl cut. Good times!

There was also the Balancing Clown, “the game of high wire action.” The spinner would tell you which way to move the clown (why so many options with only two directions? I was never sure either). It was your job to navigate Mr. Creepy Clown on his journey from one end of the wire to the other, then to knock down your opponent’s flag. But I’m assuming you and your opponent both had sticks, no? That’s how we played it, and we didn’t exactly take turns; it was more of a free-for-all stickfest. Either way, the clown was so spooky I rarely had the guts to play this game unless an adult was around. This starry-eyed big-smiler and his plaid pants still haunt some of my worst dreams.

















I simply adored Crossfire, the fastest rapid-fire action game ever. You used a gun to fire ball bearings at pucks, thereby scoring goals. But who ever bothered aiming at the pucks? Not me! Basically, this was our parents’ way of giving us carte blanche to shoot little guns at each other, and we needed no further encouragement. I’m going to have to find another one of these, because I’m getting all misty-eyed remembering the hours of fun and bruises we got out of this.















One of many peoples’ favorites (not mine, though) was the Famous Flying Floogle in his whip flying plane. Boy, you could really hurt someone with this, that’s all I can say. I still sport a rather large-ish Floogle scar on my right temple. The person who put it there knows who she is and should still be on guard, because one of these days I will have my revenge, and it will be sweet. Maybe after I find a replacement Crossfire game…

Have a WWJLD? weekend

Hey, alla y’all who are over six…let’s spend a live action weekend with Jamie Lynn Spears, play her PVD game, and just sorta see what Jamie Lynn does in her spare time. Or what she used to do with it; now that she has a baby her weekends probably aren’t much like whatever’s depicted in this product. Maybe she even had to get a part-time job at Orange Julius or some place. Whatever she’s up to, as an on-the-go pseudo-famous relative of a failing pop star and a teenage mother to boot, she’s someone to emulate, except in her choice of neckwear. Let’s face it, we could all benefit from a weekend spent walking a few miles in her moccasins. Or strolling a few malls in her stilettos, whatever it is she does. By Monday her poster will be prominently displayed in your locker. You’ll feel so close to her after your weekend together, it’ll be like, “Jamie, call me when the baby’s napping, ‘kay? Peace out!” and you’ll truly care about her just for who she is, and not because of her big sis.

Three of these things belong together

Who wouldn’t want to own this strange pairing of greats from the past—former SNL cast members and Matchbox vehicles? There’s John Belushi with the Little Chocolate Donuts truck, Bill Murray with the Swill Mineral Water truck, Gilda Radner and the Weekend Update van, and Will Ferrell and Cheri Oteri with the Spartans Cheer Squad bus.

Nothing against Will and Cheri over there, but why did Matchbox jump ahead so many years for this fourth member of the group? Couldn’t there have been a Dan Ackroyd and the Wild and Crazy Guys van, or a Chevy Chase and the Landshark truck, or a Jane Curtin and the Coneheads car? Apparently no, it was better to go with this foursome. And I trust them implicitly; the marketing gurus at Matchbox know their game pretty well by now. They even have a new trick or two up their sleeve. The pink packaging, for instance, allows us to see the softer side of Matchbox.

But, guys, rest assured: it’s really still all about you.

Shock it to me

The Lightning Reaction Extreme Game is so much fun, I can barely tear myself away from it long enough to talk about it for a few seconds. Maybe I like it so much because my reflexes are wildly fast, so I almost always win. It’s a strategy-based game of hand-eye coordination and mental endurance; in other words, fun for all ages. Get yourself a joystick and quickly familiarize yourself with the exact amount of tension it will take to make the button engage, then commit that to muscle memory. Ready? Now hit the start button and nervously watch the center light flash red for a while and listen to the game play you a song that goes faster and faster. It really gets your adrenaline flowing.

Here’s the secret: do not allow yourself to stop paying attention at this point. This is when you need to start doing whatever you can to distract your opponents—talk about being hungry, or tell a long boring story about something that happened to you in third grade, or ask a very interesting and penetrating question that makes them stop and think. Then, when they least expect it, the music stops, the center light changes to green, and that’s when you frantically push your trigger button. Last one in’s a rotten egg, and gets shocked. It’s kind of like a new-fangled, lazier version of musical chairs.

But there are several modern catches: hit the button before the color changes and you’re guaranteeing yourself a shock for premature e-joystick-ulation. In fact, the only one who doesn’t get shocked is the first person who presses his or her joystick button at the earliest opportunity. It’s a truly great and rare game that punishes three-quarters of its participants in each round. Oh, and one more little detail: the more experienced you are at the game, the higher the shock level you get for not winning. I lost once yesterday, and it took almost an hour before I could type again.

Ease in to the season

Nothing like the day after Labor Day to hammer home the fact that it’s no longer summer. And nothing like back-to-the-grind season to put most of us in a jaw-clenching, unhappily tense frame of mind. Seems like just a few seconds ago summer, with all its beckoning bewitchments, was just a glimmer in our eyes, doesn’t it? How can it already be harsh reality:thirty?

Well, buck up a little. The first few weeks of fall bring their own distinct pleasures, and you’ll make the transition, willing or not. Like you have a choice. Go ask the Sarcastic Ball.

Those of you who are finding it nearly impossible to reconcile your current condition with your inner seasonal needs might derive some comfort from the Day at the Beach Executive Sandbox. You’ll be answering the phone, dictating memos, writing press releases or whatever it is that you do for a living, but you can also be digging in the sand, resting a finger or two in the shade of a sunbrella, finding a pretty seashell, and keeping at least a small corner of your life dedicated to the memory of elusive summer. It’s hard to let go, but it’ll be back.

Project: Projectile

The only thing better than owning your own catapult is being able to say, “I made this myself,” and meaning it. Now you can build a variety of archaic weapons, enabling you to get ready (which, as you remember, Jesus wants). Gird your loins, guard your lawn, guide your launch, and you’ll have gored your landlord (or anyone else who’s getting a little too close, or cross, for your comfort).




















Didn’t work? Don’t get upset—make your own trebuchet, which is often much more accurate than a catapult, for obvious design/engineering reasons that you’d be able to see if you had a more technically agile mind. This weapon can toss an object up to twenty feet, and is capable of smashing walls as well, giving it a double-pronged approach that makes it almost impossible to overcome.

So you start out with the catapult and trebuchet in your encroachment for rapprochement (because you’re really a lover, not a fighter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not intent upon winning).

















Then, once you’re in a little closer, pull out the ballista, which you also made. It specializes in rock-hurling with accuracy, but not much distance. But by this point, the battle’s past its decisive point, and you’re undoubtedly triumphant.

Your secret weapon—how you got close enough to use the ballista—was that you’d also built your own siege tower. These were used for protection of people and weapons. You line up all your guys and your weapons behind what resembles a medieval-themed take-out window, then commence the attack. With careful aim, you can shoot your trebuchet or catapult through the window as you start out, get out the ballista when you’re closer, climb your hidden ladder (sold and built separately) and be o’er the ramparts before dawn’s early light, gallantly streaming.

Deep Pockets

When I said I thought the Mr. T in your Pocket product could use some companions, I had no idea how wrong I was. Turns out the guy has a lot of friends. Your pockets could be emitting different voices every day of the week. Better yet, carry at least two with you at all times and let them converse.




















It’s kind of a tough crowd, though, so don’t expect polite conversation with Scarface in your pocket. “Every dog has its day,” and “Me, I always tell the truth, even when I lie,” are two of its statements. Mr. T responds, “Shut up, fool,” because he can get away with it.




















You know Rocky would be comfortable palling around with Scarface and Mr. T. One of his six phrases is, “I am not as dumb as you think I am,” and that alone is worth the price of several in your pocket toys. He also declares, “All I wanna do is go the distance,” and usually about then Mr. T tells him, “Quit your jibba jabba.”

Notice that Rocky’s phrases eat thunder and crap lightning. None of the other pocket toys makes this claim, but the next time there’s a big storm, I’m going to make sure Rocky’s nearby.





















How did Fred Rogers get caught up in this crowd? This is so not his milieu. He sounds vaguely modern when he tells people, “I think I’ll make a snappy new day.” But he won’t do anything of the sort. Soon it’s back to “Please won’t you be my neighbor?” and “I like you just the way you are.” Mr. T’s response is almost invariably, “Don’t make me mad,” followed by that inimitable Mr. T growling sound.




















Another rather unexpected member of the club is Dirty Dancing in your pocket. Its name probably delivers more fun than the product itself. Phrases include, “Butt out, Baby,” for which you’ll undoubtedly find many uses. Less serviceable is, “Spaghetti arms! Would you gimme some tension, please?” Usually at this point Mr. T breaks out his trademark “I pity the fool” line.

South Park in your pocket tries to fit in, but isn’t sure whose side to be on. “I’m not fat, I’m big boned,” it protests, in Cartman’s voice, and “Drugs are bad, mmkay?”, in Mr. Mackey’s. Let us not forget who captured Mr. Mackey on his drug-laced trip to India: The A Team! Hmm, I sense some Hollywood inter-connectedness going on here. Six degrees of Mr. T, or something. “Don’t gimme no backtalk, sucka,” Mr. T says, clearly in control at all times.

Also available in your pocket: Dr. Who, Reservoir Dogs, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog, Stewie from “Family Guy,” and Catherine Tate. As long as they keep hitting all the highlights like this, the concept works for me.

Going ballistic

All this talk about old toys got me nostalgic. Remember the old Magic 8 ball? I never personally owned one, but found them fascinating.




















Sometimes positive, sometimes negative, sometimes unsure of itself ("Reply hazy, ask again" was one of my favorites), this ball never tried to hurt your feelings or put you down in any way, and was at least honest when it didn’t have a clue (roughly 1/3 of the time). We don’t have the patience for that kind of uncertainty any more! Now Magic 8 has a new cohort, the Sarcastic ball.




















Get a clue! Who cares? Clearly not the Sarcastic ball. Some of its other answers include: "Whatever", "Yeah, and I might be the pope" and the ever-popular "You wish." With a companion like the Sarcastic ball, it’s not surprising that many people find themselves turning to the






















Affirmation ball to soothe their feelings. The Affirmation ball doles out what it deems to be inspirational messages ("At least I love you" and "Who says you’re stupid?" are two of its relatively unimpressive attempts at affirmation). Okay, it could maybe be a little more affirmative. But at least it’s not being all snide and snarky like some balls we know.




















Dr. Freud’s therapy ball is a natural response to the neuroses and anxieties caused by over-exposure to the aforementioned balls, when one needs a little more reassurance in the ball department. Freud’s ball offers up mostly encouragement, ("You’re making progress") although it does contain a remark or two that might ruin an over-sensitive type ("Are you taking your meds?" and "Who am I talking to now?"). More than one person has broken this item when confronted with the "Sorry, time’s up" message.

And then there's the Excuse ball, offering up twenty excuses, including "I was mugged" and the all-purpose "Mexican food."


There’s also the Mystical Orb ball, which is pretty much a Magic 8 ball with different, yet strangely similar answers, the Wall Street Guru ball, dispensing top-notch financial advice, and the Smart Fortune Cookie ball! And in a newer format, there's the Fortune Water ball, which is basically a die floating in some liquid inside a ball. It has an even cooler cousin, the Hi Bounce Fortune Water ball,






















which is also pretty much a die-in-ball thing, but updated, upgraded, ready for the 21st century. Responses include "Fo Sho", "Not Guna Hap'in", and "True dat." Plus, it’s like a super ball filled with viscous liquid! When you’re finally ready to branch out and allow more than one toy to inform you about your future, we’ve got your balls right here.

My brother: Wow, who knew there were all those responsive question/answer balls out there? Although I like the thought of being told something modern, like "bitch, please" to some of my modern ball questions.

Let's face it, the days of Lite Brite style questions have given way to Wii and internet related questions...you need an answer ball that speaks your language, not some archaic lingo.

Stylishly inside the lines

Draw your own conclusions, think outside the box, and color your world (in 24 shades, included!) with the crayon apron. Now you can showcase your inner artist and retain a semblance of style that would make Mrs. Cleaver proud. The crayons enjoy their freedom while you create waxy masterpieces without being slowed or hampered by anything but your imagination.

Utter coolness

Nothing says summer weekend like a big blowout party and mine’s tonight! The theme is winter in summer. I’ve set up a sprinkler, a kiddie pool and one of the old, original Slip-n-Slides in my kitchen, and some dry ice, just for effect. (might also be a good time to pull out my FX-A fog machine!) Man, I can’t wait!












I’ve also got the insta-snow powder – it’s going to take forever to clean up, but my entire living room will be transformed into a winter wonderland.

The drinks are going to be really fun, too.



















I’ve got Titanic ice molds, for making “gin and titonics.” Someone’s going to say “You sank my battleship!” before the night’s over, and I plan to laugh as though I’d never thought of it before, because I’m a good hostess that way. Besides, I’ll be pretty far gone by then.




















Couldn’t resist the skull & crossbones ice. Arrrr, matey. If you have friends who like Captain Morgan, they’re going to love these ice cubes. But I’ve forbidden my guests from wearing puffy shirts. Not cool.




















I can’t wait to try the newest addition to my collection, cool jazz ice cubes with reusable handles which do double duty as drink stirrers. But if I catch one person putting these in his/her mouth, that person is going to be asked to leave. Also not cool.



















I think I found these ice cube molds at a yard sale. The ice looks like fruit wedges and comes with a built-in reusable straw. If you pour lemonade or orange juice in them, they’re a little more fun, but this one’s for the sissies and sangria drinkers in the crowd, the people who don’t tend to mind the concept of reusable straws, and for when all the other cool ice has been used up. Always have a back-up plan when you’re hosting a party! (good words to live by)















I’m also the proud owner of dental ice molds—got 'em a long time ago. If you have friends with dentures, ask them to take their teeth out and see how long they can use these—the resulting facial expressions are gut-bustingly funny. Plus, they really keep a drink chilled, and if the teeth break off it’s that much more fun. Sometimes I put a kernel of corn or a black bean or a little piece of pickle in one of the front teeth holes while I’m making the ice. My guests always sit up and take notice! Tonight the game’s gonna be: first one to get a vegetable in his/her mouth gets to be first in line for the















ice luge! Simply apply your mouth to the ice (careful; don’t get stuck!), pour the alcoholic beverage of your choice down the chutes, and the short-lived fun really kicks into high gear. I usually save this for the last hour or two of the party.








Please note, saying yum while using ice luge is optional. You can just think it silently to yourself.

Hope you plan to attend. As Alan Thicke says, the fun starts when you get here!

Say what?

Don’t be a fream! Instead of all that faffing with your spank bank, you could be revving up your verbal skills by taking a cue from the past. Everyone’s continually trying to out-cool each other with newer slang, tossing out words like skeen and phrases like off da chain, then reverting to even newer words almost immediately because slang’s no longer serving its purpose when the even the mompants have got it crabbed. It’s so much more tight to be in orbit, aware of bygone phrases with little relevance in today’s world, particularly if you’re too young to have possibly encountered these words in your own life. So get your jets ready, gather up your nuggets and berries, even if you don’t have the bees, and check these flashcards. Soon people will know you’re on the stick, and then think of how radioactive you’ll be! Everywhere you go it’ll be, like, Antsville, but you’ll breeze off and dust out in your bucket for a night of backseat bingo with your bim. Just close your head and buy these really darb flashcards, and you, too, can know your onions. It’ll be like eggs in the coffee; you’ll pick this stuff up in no time, and that’ll put some spizzerinctum in your life.