a message from the dungeon keeper!
So glad you made it! Before you embark on this journey with me you'll need a drink! Go to the fridge and grab yourself something cold. Now, you're probably wondering what it is you got yourself into. I'm here to help. Ask yourself: Are you the type who's easily offended by colorful language or offensive material? If so, I can think of 30 different things you could be doing right now instead of polluting your brain with the filth you're about to read here. 2 of those 30 things involve changing your morals and drinking lots of beer.
...It's really not that bad here at Dungeon Mud! This site is meant for entertainment purposes, and sometimes you have to step outside the boundaries to illustrate creative poetry, or some shit.
If you're interested enough in checking out a weebly site titled "Dungeon Mud" chances are we'll get along just fine. As a product of 80s and 90s pop culture my area of expertise (or lack of) revolves primarily around that era of nostalgia.
If I'm not writing about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, Saved by the Bell, He-Man, G.I Joe, Ghostbusters, Star Wars, Batman: The Animated Series, Gummi Bears, Darkwing Duck, Power Rangers, Scooby Doo, blah, blah, blah ... then I'll be writing about aimless topics with no educational purpose whatsoever.
You can also expect to see sporadic video game & movie reviews pertaining to the theme of this website. What is the theme of this website you ask? You're asking the wrong question. Perhaps we should let Curly explain:
...It's really not that bad here at Dungeon Mud! This site is meant for entertainment purposes, and sometimes you have to step outside the boundaries to illustrate creative poetry, or some shit.
If you're interested enough in checking out a weebly site titled "Dungeon Mud" chances are we'll get along just fine. As a product of 80s and 90s pop culture my area of expertise (or lack of) revolves primarily around that era of nostalgia.
If I'm not writing about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, Saved by the Bell, He-Man, G.I Joe, Ghostbusters, Star Wars, Batman: The Animated Series, Gummi Bears, Darkwing Duck, Power Rangers, Scooby Doo, blah, blah, blah ... then I'll be writing about aimless topics with no educational purpose whatsoever.
You can also expect to see sporadic video game & movie reviews pertaining to the theme of this website. What is the theme of this website you ask? You're asking the wrong question. Perhaps we should let Curly explain:
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It was lurking deep within the darkest realm of the freezer; hidden from the known world. The rest of the frozen foods, the good frozen foods, steered clear of its unearthly presence. Ice cubes would find themselves transformed into a watery puddle of death if ever they strayed too close to its damning clutches. Fear Factor would have to shut down production for a month just to clean up the putrid mess that contestants would spew at the sight of this vile excuse for food.
Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but this microwave pile of doom wasn't a pleasant discovery. I swear all plant life within a five mile radius died as I reluctantly unleashed its frozen aroma into what used to be breathable air.
Is it cursed? Hard to say. Is it poison? Debatable.
Is it cursed? Hard to say. Is it poison? Debatable.
The packaging claims that this is "chicken and fries", but I feel "disgusting, noxious, vomit inducing, toxic waste" is the more accurate description. It took me some time to distinguish which were the fries and which was the chicken. Looks aside, the portion size is hilarious. It looked like someones fast-food tray after they finished eating. Even three year old kids would feel ripped off at the lack of food in this stupid dinner, and at 300+ calories for the whole tray I'm better off drinking a bottle of molasses.
I immediately noticed a disgusting white residue on the "chicken." I'm not calling it meat because it sure as shit wasn't meat. Meat doesn't yell, "Ouch!" when you stick a fork in it. I think it's fair to assume I wasn't getting any of the more choice cuts with this poultry, and I spit out my first bite within seconds because the texture was disturbingly equivalent to eating chicken-flavored oatmeal.
I immediately noticed a disgusting white residue on the "chicken." I'm not calling it meat because it sure as shit wasn't meat. Meat doesn't yell, "Ouch!" when you stick a fork in it. I think it's fair to assume I wasn't getting any of the more choice cuts with this poultry, and I spit out my first bite within seconds because the texture was disturbingly equivalent to eating chicken-flavored oatmeal.
Were the fries supposed to be flaky and brittle? If they were then it's my bad, but then they shouldn't call them "fries" - they should just be called regurgitated potato fragments. The hamster section at Petland smells better than these rejects! French fries are pretty difficult to get wrong. What was the excuse for these little guys? I feel bad pinning some of the blame on the abysmal shortcomings of this frozen dinner on the fries because they were just doing their job. Still, their inadequate existence as edible food is something I cannot overlook.
I was hoping, at the very least, this virulent meal would give me super powers or something, but no such luck.
Unless you consider stomaching this shit a super power.
Peace and longevity,
Steve
I was hoping, at the very least, this virulent meal would give me super powers or something, but no such luck.
Unless you consider stomaching this shit a super power.
Peace and longevity,
Steve
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The Real Ghostbusters was one of the defining cartoons of the 80's and early 90's and this was especially true if you were a fan of both films. The series continued the whacky antics of everyone's favorite team of womanizing, chain smoking, alcoholic, paranormal investigators & eliminators and incorporated a new ensemble of ghouls destined to continue their reign of terror in the form of plastic toys.
What we don't realize when we're young is that we'll eventually be forced to part ways with our most beloved and cherished action figures. The ones that we now, in our adult stages, would gladly pay ridiculous amounts of money to re-obtain. But growing up is inevitable (unless you're that Peter Pan freak) and I knew that if I wanted to bring girls home that resembled Kelly Kapowski my room would need a serious makeover. I reluctantly entombed hundreds upon hundreds of action figures and accessories in ugly cardboard boxes and sent them to that dreaded place where toys lose much of their reason to exist: the storage closet. Upon writing that last sentence I was saddened by visions of my long lost toys embracing and comforting each other while they watched home videos of the good ol' times on an 8mm projector screen accompanied by the song "Sweet Memories" by Ray Charles.
The sad truth is that our toys are either thrown out like last nights hooker or donated to a charitable organization where some kid wouldn't know the difference between Torpedo Batman & Piranha Blade Batman. Yes, life is good at slapping you in the face. Punching you in the stomach and kicking you unmercifully in the balls. However, every once and a while, life hits you with that moment that redefines your existence. You rub your eyes and you pinch your wrist because surely you must be dreaming. I experienced a moment like that not too long ago. It was when I stumbled across a lonely cardboard box tucked neatly away in a cold, dark, closet (mausoleum) deep within the confines of my childhood home. Something was written on it. I wouldn't need a light for the box began to glow. It read: Ghostbusters toys.
Yes, indeed it was a historical and momentous moment in my life! More defining than the time I put my life on the line to save a burning bus full of helpless passengers. Just kidding about them being saved. This was reliving that incomparable feeling of opening a toy on Christmas morning instead of a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore, Slimer, Stay Puft and Janine were all there and sporting their more extravagant evening attire to boost. But I was eager to reintroduce myself to the ugly mugs of Granny Ghost, Terror Trash Ghost, Tombstone Tackle and Bad-To-The-Bone Ghost; Classic Monsters: Dracula, Mummy and Wolfman, among many others! There were even special appearances by Leonardo, Donatello, Beetlejuice, Gizmo and ED-209!
What we don't realize when we're young is that we'll eventually be forced to part ways with our most beloved and cherished action figures. The ones that we now, in our adult stages, would gladly pay ridiculous amounts of money to re-obtain. But growing up is inevitable (unless you're that Peter Pan freak) and I knew that if I wanted to bring girls home that resembled Kelly Kapowski my room would need a serious makeover. I reluctantly entombed hundreds upon hundreds of action figures and accessories in ugly cardboard boxes and sent them to that dreaded place where toys lose much of their reason to exist: the storage closet. Upon writing that last sentence I was saddened by visions of my long lost toys embracing and comforting each other while they watched home videos of the good ol' times on an 8mm projector screen accompanied by the song "Sweet Memories" by Ray Charles.
The sad truth is that our toys are either thrown out like last nights hooker or donated to a charitable organization where some kid wouldn't know the difference between Torpedo Batman & Piranha Blade Batman. Yes, life is good at slapping you in the face. Punching you in the stomach and kicking you unmercifully in the balls. However, every once and a while, life hits you with that moment that redefines your existence. You rub your eyes and you pinch your wrist because surely you must be dreaming. I experienced a moment like that not too long ago. It was when I stumbled across a lonely cardboard box tucked neatly away in a cold, dark, closet (mausoleum) deep within the confines of my childhood home. Something was written on it. I wouldn't need a light for the box began to glow. It read: Ghostbusters toys.
Yes, indeed it was a historical and momentous moment in my life! More defining than the time I put my life on the line to save a burning bus full of helpless passengers. Just kidding about them being saved. This was reliving that incomparable feeling of opening a toy on Christmas morning instead of a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore, Slimer, Stay Puft and Janine were all there and sporting their more extravagant evening attire to boost. But I was eager to reintroduce myself to the ugly mugs of Granny Ghost, Terror Trash Ghost, Tombstone Tackle and Bad-To-The-Bone Ghost; Classic Monsters: Dracula, Mummy and Wolfman, among many others! There were even special appearances by Leonardo, Donatello, Beetlejuice, Gizmo and ED-209!
As you can see I also discovered that my parents were still in possession of the firehouse playset, proton pack (sans gun) and a trap with a broken wire. Believe that shit? How the hell does anyone expect me to catch any ghosts with all of this shoddy equipment? I'm not keen on repeating last years antics of using a stock pot and spatula.
No luck on locating the Ecto-1 either, only a passenger door with a faded sticker, I fear the rest of the vehicle succumbed to the damages sustained by endless Crash Dummies competitions. Still, I was ecstatic with what I had found. I wiped away the tears and secured my treasure for the ride back to my apartment. I finally made use of those contraptions called seat belts for the two gigantic boxes of toys-toys-toys!
When I was a kid, Ray was always my favorite Ghostbuster. I was too young to understand either sarcasm or libido, so that ruled Peter out; Egon's intelligence was too alienating for me as a youngster and Winston didn't have a hope in Hell because he was barely in the film. Ray always seemed kind, adventurous and avuncular, as well as charmingly buffoonish.
I am now convinced that Dan Aykroyd is to blame for my excessive alcohol consumption. Isn't it convenient that he now sells vodka, wine and tequila? Think about it. Ray is drinking ALL THE TIME. When he's thrown out of university, he happens to have a bottle of liquor with him on campus; just in case. Before being called to the Sedgewick Hotel both he and Peter are drinking, but Ray's also driving the Ecto-1 at a tremendous speed and under the influence. It's not just on the way to busts either - during the scene where he's discussing the Bible with Winston whilst on the way back to the firehouse, he seemingly can't even wait until the car journey is over before cracking open a can of Budweiser.
Perhaps most damningly of all, when the Ghostbusters are trying to convince Dana Barrett that they are professionals rather than frauds, there's Ray, in broad daylight, in his workplace, chugging down a brew in the face of his first potential customer whilst talking what must have seemed to her like absolute gibberish.
It's an utter disgrace and the filmmakers should've thought of the potentially disastrous consequences of normalizing destructive and disgusting habits such as drinking and smoking in the fragile, still-developing minds of my generation. Shame on them.
....is something a prick like Walter Peck would say. I, however, think I speak for the rest of us by saying GHOSTBUSTERS AND DRINKING RULES!
I am now accepting applications for life coach.
I am now convinced that Dan Aykroyd is to blame for my excessive alcohol consumption. Isn't it convenient that he now sells vodka, wine and tequila? Think about it. Ray is drinking ALL THE TIME. When he's thrown out of university, he happens to have a bottle of liquor with him on campus; just in case. Before being called to the Sedgewick Hotel both he and Peter are drinking, but Ray's also driving the Ecto-1 at a tremendous speed and under the influence. It's not just on the way to busts either - during the scene where he's discussing the Bible with Winston whilst on the way back to the firehouse, he seemingly can't even wait until the car journey is over before cracking open a can of Budweiser.
Perhaps most damningly of all, when the Ghostbusters are trying to convince Dana Barrett that they are professionals rather than frauds, there's Ray, in broad daylight, in his workplace, chugging down a brew in the face of his first potential customer whilst talking what must have seemed to her like absolute gibberish.
It's an utter disgrace and the filmmakers should've thought of the potentially disastrous consequences of normalizing destructive and disgusting habits such as drinking and smoking in the fragile, still-developing minds of my generation. Shame on them.
....is something a prick like Walter Peck would say. I, however, think I speak for the rest of us by saying GHOSTBUSTERS AND DRINKING RULES!
I am now accepting applications for life coach.
Peace & longevity,
Steve
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Steve
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It's ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL SOMEONE GETS BIT
Zombies are awesome. I love zombies. They get a lot of flack and I'm not sure they deserve it. After all, zombies have just as much to be bitter about as humans do. For one, they have no income because they lack the motor skills to successfully fill out a job application. They're just trying to make it in this cruel world. I suppose you could argue that many zombies have found work as extras in various low budget and big budget horror films. However, zombie labor laws prevent them from reaching high levels of success. There's also the competitive pressure. It's all about who is the ugliest? Who is the bloodiest? Who ate the most body parts? This particular type of competition also leads to an addiction of methamphetamine. You think some of these "zombies" are method actors but they're really just doped up punks.
Back on topic. The first time I was introduced to such macabre fun was at a sleepover-birthday party way back in 1997. It would've been a typical sleepover for any group of twelve year old boys growing up in the 90's, a marathon of the goriest horror movies imaginable and a bottle of scotch that tasted like cream soda. It was a toss up of finishing the marathon with either Blood Beach, Dawn of the Dead or Jaws 3. None of us were interested in watching Jaws 3 and the kid who brought that one may never fully recover after we beat the snot out of him much in the same way that Gomer Pyle experienced in Full Metal Jacket, except we used the Jaws 3 VHS tape stuffed in a towel instead of soap. The cover of Blood Beach looked cool enough, but it was Dawn of the Dead's cover that sent all of us on a frenzy. We popped it in the player and went out of our fucking minds. It was beautiful. This marked the first time I had ever seen a horror film of such epic proportions. I think it was experiencing Dawn of the Dead for the first time that really spiraled my horror movie fanaticism into full gear and ever since then I've gone batshit over it. Night of the Living Dead and Day of the Dead deserve their place in the spotlight as well but as a quintessential zombie film, Dawn of the Dead is the bento box. Or something like that.
I don't draw often and when I do it's usually only once or twice a year. I need to really put myself in the right mindset to help keep me motivated, and art is no exception. Much like my rigorous exercise routine in which if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion...
Cough.
Anyway, I thought it appropriate to create a few zombie pictures to help celebrate the Halloween season. Maybe you like them. Maybe you think they suck. Either way I wanted to write about something and I remembered that I drew these a few days ago.
And now here we are.
Peace & longevity,
Steve
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Back on topic. The first time I was introduced to such macabre fun was at a sleepover-birthday party way back in 1997. It would've been a typical sleepover for any group of twelve year old boys growing up in the 90's, a marathon of the goriest horror movies imaginable and a bottle of scotch that tasted like cream soda. It was a toss up of finishing the marathon with either Blood Beach, Dawn of the Dead or Jaws 3. None of us were interested in watching Jaws 3 and the kid who brought that one may never fully recover after we beat the snot out of him much in the same way that Gomer Pyle experienced in Full Metal Jacket, except we used the Jaws 3 VHS tape stuffed in a towel instead of soap. The cover of Blood Beach looked cool enough, but it was Dawn of the Dead's cover that sent all of us on a frenzy. We popped it in the player and went out of our fucking minds. It was beautiful. This marked the first time I had ever seen a horror film of such epic proportions. I think it was experiencing Dawn of the Dead for the first time that really spiraled my horror movie fanaticism into full gear and ever since then I've gone batshit over it. Night of the Living Dead and Day of the Dead deserve their place in the spotlight as well but as a quintessential zombie film, Dawn of the Dead is the bento box. Or something like that.
I don't draw often and when I do it's usually only once or twice a year. I need to really put myself in the right mindset to help keep me motivated, and art is no exception. Much like my rigorous exercise routine in which if my face is a little puffy, I'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. I can do a thousand now. After I remove the ice pack I use a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower I use a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then I apply an herb-mint facial mask which I leave on for ten minutes while I prepare the rest of my routine. I always use an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion...
Cough.
Anyway, I thought it appropriate to create a few zombie pictures to help celebrate the Halloween season. Maybe you like them. Maybe you think they suck. Either way I wanted to write about something and I remembered that I drew these a few days ago.
And now here we are.
Peace & longevity,
Steve
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MEANWHILE AT THE GHOSTBUSTERS FIREHOUSE . . .
Peace & longevity,
Steve
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Steve
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HALLOWEEN GHOST TOUR SUCKITH
Halloween is right around the corner and it's an annual celebration, but just what exactly is it celebrating? How did this particular custom originate? Is it an excuse for weird people to dress up as even weirder people, get drunk and have promiscuous, unprotected, sex? Or is it a harmless vestige of some ancient ritual? It's a question that need not be answered for Halloween speaks to all of us in its own spooky ways.
This Halloween season, I, along with my usual gang of terrorists decided to attend the annual Ghost Tour that my proud city so generously hosts. Inspired by the television shows in which actors pretend to be scared during "reality" ghost hunts, I decided that filming this event would serve an ideal purpose: proving the existence of the supernatural. However, that was not the case.
It started off great, everyone was anxious to investigate the intriguing sights said to be the "hot spots" for ghostly phenomenon. After an interesting, if overly long, introduction to the St. Boniface Museum, we were told to make our way to the Cathedral. Oh sure, that's fine, we don't get to go inside the museum, that's understandable. So we end up at the Cathedral, and I couldn't remember what they said about it because I was too busy filming one of the employees dressed up as the grim reaper; which was more confusing than scary. Who was this kid and what significance did he have to the tour? Later on, he proved useful in darker areas as his main job was to follow us around with a light. I was wondering, maybe, is this part of a new community service job for troubled teens? Is this grim reaper costume supposed to symbolize their dark descent from moral diversity and fateful decline as a proper citizen?
This Halloween season, I, along with my usual gang of terrorists decided to attend the annual Ghost Tour that my proud city so generously hosts. Inspired by the television shows in which actors pretend to be scared during "reality" ghost hunts, I decided that filming this event would serve an ideal purpose: proving the existence of the supernatural. However, that was not the case.
It started off great, everyone was anxious to investigate the intriguing sights said to be the "hot spots" for ghostly phenomenon. After an interesting, if overly long, introduction to the St. Boniface Museum, we were told to make our way to the Cathedral. Oh sure, that's fine, we don't get to go inside the museum, that's understandable. So we end up at the Cathedral, and I couldn't remember what they said about it because I was too busy filming one of the employees dressed up as the grim reaper; which was more confusing than scary. Who was this kid and what significance did he have to the tour? Later on, he proved useful in darker areas as his main job was to follow us around with a light. I was wondering, maybe, is this part of a new community service job for troubled teens? Is this grim reaper costume supposed to symbolize their dark descent from moral diversity and fateful decline as a proper citizen?
No matter, the buses had arrived to take us to the site where the real ghost tour would begin. Actually, that wasn't the case either. We ended up at the Fort Gary Hotel, in which several ghosts are said to inhabit some of the rooms within. We ended up in a dining room where it was said that a ghastly specter had been seen on more than one occasion, sitting at a table, and reading newspapers published as far back as 1910! Actually, I just made that last part up about the newspapers, because it's fucking lame, just like the Fort Gary Hotel was.
No ghosts yet, but that's okay, the tour had only just begun! We hopped back on the buses and prepared ourselves for the most terrifying of all places -- The Vaughan Street Jail! We arrived at the jail and were ready to enter the great unknown -- full of all sorts of ghastly history that would make even the most brave tremble with utter terror! This was the creme de le creme, this was the place that was going to be worth our $46! The tour guide instructed the group to gather around for some factual stories involving the crazy bastards who were executed in the jail and how their souls still inhabit the dark rooms within. I felt that being inside the jail would have been a more appropriate place for this, but that was okay, we'd get in there soon enough...
...Or so I thought. After some insanely creepy stories about how fucked up and haunted that jail is, we were told to go across the street to study some statue of a pilot who was considered to be the inspiration for James Bond. I was shocked. I stood there in total disbelief, wondering what kind of sick joke this tour was! It was by this time I realized that this "ghost tour" had less purpose than the formation of male nipples.
Sadly, one of the only highlights of the tour took place at a "haunted" church located around a rendezvous point for alcohol enthusiasts. While our tour guide was babbling about the churches paint job, a severely intoxicated individual, whom I nicknamed Floogy Floffin, stood on the other side of the fence and accused the tour guide of "not telling the truth." I agreed with Floogy, but I thought he was a little bit out of line when he hassled me for some spare change on the way out. I declined his request and instead gave him my half full bottle of water provided generously by the tour.
Our last stop was at a cemetery located out in the boondocks, and was actually pretty cool. But because our fall season weather usually sits at minus a'gazillion, it was too damn cold to wander around for an hour.
Overall, I felt the tour was a bit misleading in terms of actually letting the group enter the haunted buildings. Had I known the entire tour consisted of us standing around outside while the guide rubbed it in about how haunted the locations were, I would have saved my money for something more enthralling, like a pez dispenser collection.
Keeping within the spirit of Halloween I begged my inner monologue to shut up and have fun, and there were some areas that were truly spooky, and Floogy Floffin added some much needed comic relief. I give the tour a C-. If they had served alcohol my rating would be much higher.
Here is an actual photo that I took while on the tour! I assure you the photo has not been doctored or edited in any way whatsoever. I've circled what could be an apparition.
No ghosts yet, but that's okay, the tour had only just begun! We hopped back on the buses and prepared ourselves for the most terrifying of all places -- The Vaughan Street Jail! We arrived at the jail and were ready to enter the great unknown -- full of all sorts of ghastly history that would make even the most brave tremble with utter terror! This was the creme de le creme, this was the place that was going to be worth our $46! The tour guide instructed the group to gather around for some factual stories involving the crazy bastards who were executed in the jail and how their souls still inhabit the dark rooms within. I felt that being inside the jail would have been a more appropriate place for this, but that was okay, we'd get in there soon enough...
...Or so I thought. After some insanely creepy stories about how fucked up and haunted that jail is, we were told to go across the street to study some statue of a pilot who was considered to be the inspiration for James Bond. I was shocked. I stood there in total disbelief, wondering what kind of sick joke this tour was! It was by this time I realized that this "ghost tour" had less purpose than the formation of male nipples.
Sadly, one of the only highlights of the tour took place at a "haunted" church located around a rendezvous point for alcohol enthusiasts. While our tour guide was babbling about the churches paint job, a severely intoxicated individual, whom I nicknamed Floogy Floffin, stood on the other side of the fence and accused the tour guide of "not telling the truth." I agreed with Floogy, but I thought he was a little bit out of line when he hassled me for some spare change on the way out. I declined his request and instead gave him my half full bottle of water provided generously by the tour.
Our last stop was at a cemetery located out in the boondocks, and was actually pretty cool. But because our fall season weather usually sits at minus a'gazillion, it was too damn cold to wander around for an hour.
Overall, I felt the tour was a bit misleading in terms of actually letting the group enter the haunted buildings. Had I known the entire tour consisted of us standing around outside while the guide rubbed it in about how haunted the locations were, I would have saved my money for something more enthralling, like a pez dispenser collection.
Keeping within the spirit of Halloween I begged my inner monologue to shut up and have fun, and there were some areas that were truly spooky, and Floogy Floffin added some much needed comic relief. I give the tour a C-. If they had served alcohol my rating would be much higher.
Here is an actual photo that I took while on the tour! I assure you the photo has not been doctored or edited in any way whatsoever. I've circled what could be an apparition.
Real or fake? You be the judge.
Peace & longevity.
Steve
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Peace & longevity.
Steve
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TIPS SPELLED BACKWARDS IS SPIT
Do we really need to tip everyone? After some serious thought and a day of research I have come to the conclusion that it's debatable. I understand that pizza delivery drivers deserve a tip but lately it just seems like everyone wants a tip for doing their job. To prove a point I decided to tip everyone that I come in contact with on my next day off...I took my change and set off to do some errands, look at what this shit costs:
Went to the grocery store and a lady had a stand set up with a new Dole juice drink you could sample. After four of them, I put a dollar in one of the empty cups and said thanks.
Tip: $1.00
The verdict: To hell with these people and their juice stands, don't tip them. If I want to sample Dole juice, I'll take it off the shelf, open it up and take a sip.
Went and got a hair cut. Tipped the lady four bucks.
Tip: $4.00
The verdict: 50/50 on this one. It's a nice gesture but at the same time she didn't ask me how my day was or park my car so, really, what's the tip for? Cutting my hair? Isn't that what the $25 was for? Use your judgement but watch out for when they stand right by the register with their hand out as you pay. Simply say, "Thanks for the haircut, you can thank me when you get your paycheck next week."
Went to the food court, tipped the janitor a dollar for taking my Arby's tray.
Tip: $1.00
The verdict: I guess this is sort of like paying someone to bark like a seal, it's not necessary but may be a classy move if you're with a hot date. I felt pretty bad because I could see the resentment in his glass eye, but man, he went for that buck like a pack of hungry lions on an elephant. Do it for fun but don't expect a hug.
Went to Domo and got gas, tipped the dude two bucks for pumping the petrol.
Tip: $2.00
The verdict: This is bullshit! Gas is like a buck and a half a liter, the guy was lucky I didn't punch him in the face when he was pumping that shit into my car. If you roll up in a Jag and they wash your windows, check your tires and high five you then slap them a fin, otherwise don't bother. I stole a paper and a coke while he was pumping the gas, so I figure I broke even.
Went to Blockbuster, couldn't find "Cool as Ice". Clerk grabbed it off the shelf in five seconds flat. Cost me a buck.
Tip: $1.00
The verdict: You can tip the Blockbuster people a couple of bucks if they're hospitable. I was walking around swearing and opened a bag of skittles from off the shelf . I asked a lot of questions and made a long distance phone call before leaving. Shoot a little loot their way.
Ordered a pizza, tipped the driver three bucks.
Tip: $3.00
The verdict: The pizza guy was ten minutes late and forgot the bread sticks, why did I tip him? I think we should universally adopt the 30 minutes or it's free rule. I like to tell them on the phone that I have a five dollar tip that drops a buck for every ten minutes after the first ten that it takes them from the time I hang up the phone. I'd say tip the driver if they're at the door within thirty minutes, after that fuhgetabout it! How many times have we slept past the alarm, got up, showered, ate and made it to class in under thirty?
Peace & longevity,
Steve
Went to the grocery store and a lady had a stand set up with a new Dole juice drink you could sample. After four of them, I put a dollar in one of the empty cups and said thanks.
Tip: $1.00
The verdict: To hell with these people and their juice stands, don't tip them. If I want to sample Dole juice, I'll take it off the shelf, open it up and take a sip.
Went and got a hair cut. Tipped the lady four bucks.
Tip: $4.00
The verdict: 50/50 on this one. It's a nice gesture but at the same time she didn't ask me how my day was or park my car so, really, what's the tip for? Cutting my hair? Isn't that what the $25 was for? Use your judgement but watch out for when they stand right by the register with their hand out as you pay. Simply say, "Thanks for the haircut, you can thank me when you get your paycheck next week."
Went to the food court, tipped the janitor a dollar for taking my Arby's tray.
Tip: $1.00
The verdict: I guess this is sort of like paying someone to bark like a seal, it's not necessary but may be a classy move if you're with a hot date. I felt pretty bad because I could see the resentment in his glass eye, but man, he went for that buck like a pack of hungry lions on an elephant. Do it for fun but don't expect a hug.
Went to Domo and got gas, tipped the dude two bucks for pumping the petrol.
Tip: $2.00
The verdict: This is bullshit! Gas is like a buck and a half a liter, the guy was lucky I didn't punch him in the face when he was pumping that shit into my car. If you roll up in a Jag and they wash your windows, check your tires and high five you then slap them a fin, otherwise don't bother. I stole a paper and a coke while he was pumping the gas, so I figure I broke even.
Went to Blockbuster, couldn't find "Cool as Ice". Clerk grabbed it off the shelf in five seconds flat. Cost me a buck.
Tip: $1.00
The verdict: You can tip the Blockbuster people a couple of bucks if they're hospitable. I was walking around swearing and opened a bag of skittles from off the shelf . I asked a lot of questions and made a long distance phone call before leaving. Shoot a little loot their way.
Ordered a pizza, tipped the driver three bucks.
Tip: $3.00
The verdict: The pizza guy was ten minutes late and forgot the bread sticks, why did I tip him? I think we should universally adopt the 30 minutes or it's free rule. I like to tell them on the phone that I have a five dollar tip that drops a buck for every ten minutes after the first ten that it takes them from the time I hang up the phone. I'd say tip the driver if they're at the door within thirty minutes, after that fuhgetabout it! How many times have we slept past the alarm, got up, showered, ate and made it to class in under thirty?
Peace & longevity,
Steve
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He used to cook in the dungeon kitchen but customers complained about the soup (we never served soup!)
So, when Chewy isn't working in the editing room he's busy mopping the floors.
He hates mopping the floors but his work is satisfactory for a wookie.
He used to cook in the dungeon kitchen but customers complained about the soup (we never served soup!)
So, when Chewy isn't working in the editing room he's busy mopping the floors.
He hates mopping the floors but his work is satisfactory for a wookie.
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