In a Fix

Good news, fellow New Yorkers.  Your own Metropolitan Transit Authority (motto: "Train Skipping Your Station") is getting a makeover! Maybe you've seen the ad.  It's on all the subways, just to the left of the redolent yelling gentleman with the twenty-six garbage bags.  It goes like this:

"If it's broke, fix it."

Instead of waiting to fix everything in a station at once,

we're fixing critical parts as soon as they need fixing.

This is accompanied by a reassuring picture in which a hard-working actor pretending to be an MTA workman performs the vital workman task of getting photographed.  Now, I don't know about you, but golly, I think this is just an amazing revolutionary progressive breakthrough business method.  Just think! Fixing things that are not only broken but could possibly maim or kill you! One can hardly guess what kind of cushy amenities they will dream up next.  Perhaps they'll institute a "valued rider" program that, for a fee, guarantees you the comfort of knowing the conductor won't slice your fingers off in the doors, at least not on purpose, unless perhaps he is having a bad day.

If you ask me - and I hope I do not sound hyper-patriotic here, but gosh darn it, I just can't contain myself - this is precisely the sort of "new-frontier" business vision that makes America great.  I give you Exhibit B: my shower.  Now you may recall I live at college, which means a shared bathroom, which in turn means such features as seething, raging, tentacled bacteria the size of standard Angus bulls.  You get used to them after awhile, but it's a little disconcerting at first when you walk in only to have them come lurching forth from the toilet to say things like, "HA HA HA.  PREPARE TO DIE, (YOUR NAME HERE)."*  

But it's all worth it when you get to take a nice hot shower, except if you ignore the little bitty minor infinitesimal small detail that the shower is actually ice cold.  So it was that, with a heavy heart and the theme from "Jaws" beginning spontaneously to play in the background, I put in a maintenance request to: University Facilities Management.  I explained that when you turned on the shower, hot water runs for 45 seconds, after which it goes cold.  Their response was to wait a few days, then send me back a status update, as follows:

Problem: No hot water in shower

Actions taken: Turned on shower.  Ran hot water fine.

Status: Fixed

Yes, I'm proud that, as a nation, we're committed to taking this kind of "go-getter" initiative.  It just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside as you go through your daily routine, eat breakfast, go to the gym, take a shower ... YAAAAAHHHHH! THIS THING IS LIKE ICE!!!! WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA????

Ahem.  It's all right; naturally, there are always kinks to work out of any system.  We consumers understand the concept of "work in progress."  And it's not just the subway and my shower.  There's also the Space Shuttle Program (motto: "No Catastrophic Losses of Life Since [Tuesday]").  Now to their credit, the folks at NASA tried to get this one right.  They really did.  However, this is obviously hard.  To begin to understand the sort of complexity involved in such an undertaking, let's look at just a few of the rejected designs for the Space Shuttle over the years:

 

But practice makes perfect, which is why, next year, after the Space Shuttle is retired, NASA plans to replace it with the ultimate vehicle: 

Of course, there are sure to be certain snags in this plan as well, such as when the fleet loses one of its headlight eyeballs.  But still I have enormous hope for the future, and I'm sure you do too, especially if you are talking about the future on Planet Zwumf.  But it's okay; works in progress are part of life.  We know that; the people at NASA know it.  And we're all in this together.

However, NASA, if you're listening, I hope you'll permit me a small suggestion.  If things don't work out with the Magic School Bus, I say it's high time you "take the plunge" and replace your fleet with the ultimate vehicle: the New York City subway (motto: "Train Skipping Your Planet").

* They don't actually say your name, you see; they literally say, "(YOUR NAME HERE)".

Meet the Puppets!

Looky looky!

This is Marie-Claude, the Golden Stoat.  And, yes, as you have no doubt astutely observed, she's a very foxy stoat.  (Get it? Woodland creature pun! Hah!)  

Anyway, she's a puppet I made.  (Formerly a bath towel.  Fun fact.)  Which is all to say, I haven't been idle in my absence.  I've been putting together a good dozen of these guys, of all different styles and species, for a puppet show called - yes - the Golden Stoat.  

Here's one of her co-stars, Her Royal Highness Marcheline, Princess of Groin (pronounced Groin - it's French).  Marcheline has a lovely blonde mane and tiara now, but obviously this was taken in her pre-hair days:

Ain't she purty? Well, except that back before her Rogaine moment, she vaguely resembled Patrick Stewart.  Or perhaps Zwibble Dibble (pictured below):

Speaking of which, another fun fact: my sister happens to own such a Zwibble, which we got in maybe 1992.  We recently found that they go for upwards of $75-$100 on eBay, which led her to muse that perhaps hers would go for that much had she not spent much of her toddlerhood sucking on its tail.  Now let's face it, you have to wonder about the sort of individual who would shell out that many doubloons for a dinosaur wearing a diaper.  I mean, EVERYONE knows this is historically inaccurate, right? (In real life they wore Hanes.)

The Golden Stoat will be performed in late April, in Manhattan, for those NY-ers who are suitably interested and/or deranged.  (It will be the week after Aisle Six.)  Stay tuned for updates on both.....

A dire warning

Not to be pessimistic or anything, but life basically consists of us making a big honkin' bonerrific heapin' heap of mistakes.  Take mine this morning.  I woke up with a bad headache, and decided - call it the folly of youth - to take headache medicine.

Now I had actually had this headache the night before, too, which meant I had already taken two pills in the last 24 hours.  Turns out that more than two aspirin tablets in a 24-hour period equals SERIOUSLY BAD JUJU, as evidenced by the following verbatim warning on the bottle:

"WARNING WARNING WARNING!!! Take more than 2 tablets in 24-hours and PERISH OF LIVER FAILURE OF THE LIVER, YOU FESTERING LITTLE WAD OF CAT-BOX DEPOSIT! Oh, wait, BWA HA HA, TOOOO LATE, because you ALREADY TOOK THE EXTRA PILLS!!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!! Ask a doctor if side effects occur."

Yes, well, I certainly learned MY lesson for the day, didn't I? Meanwhile, I'm spreading the word, so that those of you who can still be saved will know the dangers of ingesting medicine in order to feel better.  To think that this kind of thing can happen in America.

For those of you who work visually, here's a handy-dandy ...

Cautionary Guide to the UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS THAT WILL APPEAR ON YOUR LIVER

... if you take more than 2 aspirin tablets in 24 hours, you fool:

After 3 pills:

4 pills:

5 pills:

6 pills:

Just my little public service announcement for the day.  I consider it giving back to the community.  Happy new year.

Addendum: plush carnage, continued

Regarding the previous post:

My sister alerted me to the following heartwarming description Build-a-Bear provides of the "Stingray Snacks Set":

"Teddy bear size plush stingray snacks include a plush crab, squid and shrimp. The perfect meal for your stuffed stingray!"

(My sister: "What is WRONG with these people?!")

Cue theme from "Jaws":

If You Don't Have This, You're Not Cool: Special Season's Belated Greetings! edition

Merry belated Christmas, everyone!

(Hey, check out that hairy stub of arm underneath, huh? Don't bother thinking of that puppy while you're eating.)

Yes, there's always a certain feeling of letdown once the big day has come and gone.  Fortunately, we're left with the tender afterglow of the holiday spirit, also defined as "continued readiness to vivisect the Chipmunks personally, if asked."

Note to PETA-types: We at The Snark Ascending do not in any way endorse cruelty to animals, except maybe for that one time the hermit crab we got for our friend's birthday party pinched the living shit out of our eight-year-old hand, whereupon we fantasized for YEARS afterwards about consigning the little monster to a Cuisinart.  However, we are sure the rage will abate once we regain feeling in our hand.

Now, do NOT click on this.  We're WARNING you.  We said, DON'T CLICK.  ... BWA HA HA!!! TOO LATE, SUCKER!!! The URGE TO CLICK is BORING a BIG HOLE into your BRAIN.  ENJOY THE VOCAL STYLINGS OF THE LITTLE BASTARDS, YOU FOOL!!!!!!

Disclaimer: We're sorry we had to do that.

Meanwhile, in the interest of stimulating the economy* via after-Christmas sales, I'd** like to direct your attention to the following funky little items, which really exist and are brought to you by the Build-a-Bear Workshop.  They were brought to my attention by my resourceful sister, who sent me an email entitled "Exceptionally bad taste."  I quote:

"They've [Build-a-Bear] been manufacturing a stingray doll, and the other day I was just minding my own business when I found an accessory for it, which... well, I think I'll just show you the page, rather than describe it."

Behold: The STINGRAY SNACKS SET (3 pc.)

"Howdy doody!" say these cute crustaceans, which must be the most adorable invertebrates not currently employed by the Department of Comparative Literature.***  "Please devour us whole! We'll smile while you do it!"

I believe my sister spoke for millions of current and former children when she said: "All I can say is that this definitely would have bugged me when I was little."  That's why I'm making your next-year's gift-giving just that much easier by suggesting, here and now, -- and feel free to thank me monetarily any time you like -- that you buy up a set of Stingray Snacks, if not several, and save them up for that special child you hate.  Preferably one who sounds like the Chipmunks.

And if you're into vegetarianism, might I suggest this little martyr from my friends at Urban Outfitters (motto: "we also sell keychains shaped like anthropomorphized bodily functions!")

I'd go on, but I'm pretty sure I've ruined enough future meals already.  Happy holidays! And tune in next time for our special feature on seemingly innocent items that could probably kill you, okay?

* Excerpt from the forthcoming novel Tangible Assets of Passion: "Brant gazed at Camilla, his macroeconomic policy positively throbbing with horizontal equity, and moaned as she began, with pure unadulterated compound interest, to stimulate his economy."

** Because we are now in the singular, on those occasions when I feel like it.

*** This is a department in which you compare literature to things, as in: "This literature reminds me of a snowblower."  (YOUR PROFESSOR: "Yes, go on.  Unpack that for me in terms of its dialectical functionality.")

©2010 Nicola McEldowney

Vive la marionnette

Yes, I'm preparing for finals and all that, but I break for important news.  By which I mean, "puppet smut."

On which note, this just in, from a company selling puppets.  I want to stress that (a) this is a professional enterprise and (b) I reprint this verbatim.

"Choose From:

Dual Entry Full/Half Body Puppets: Enter in through the bottom of the torso for behind the stage use, or through the back for vent-style use. Great for audiences of 250 or less.

Single Entry Removable Legs Puppets: [...] May be a little harder to operate for small puppeteers. Entry only through the bottom makes it a bit harder to use when not behind the stage."

It so happens that they're selling these for ministry purposes, but obviously I wouldn't be unwise enough to mention that.

I'd rather be snarking

Mes chers, I'm swamped beyond belief with finals prep.  Please forgive the cyber dust balls piling up here. Meanwhile, my brain bulges outward comically, Warner Brothers-style, with suppressed Snarks.  I'll dispense them as soon as I get out of here for winter break.  Like around Christmas.  Again, my apologies.