Friday, August 14, 2009

We interrupt your normally scheduled blog to inform you that Rifftrax, with the cast of MST3K is going to be doing a live show, broadcast across theaters around the country on August 20th, at 8pm!

Specifically, they'll be riffing 'Plan 9 From Outer Space'!

That's next Thursday at 8pm, and they're even going to be at the AMC 24 in Hamilton, NJ, which is where I'm going. Go to for more details. See you there!


Don't have that much time this week, so the worst joke in the history of mankind will continue to wait (suffer! ^_^) in lieu of some shorter, yet no less significant challenges:


I'll be the first to admit, I have a high threshold for boredom. Sit me in the corner, and as long as I have a pen and some paper, I'll be as happy as a clam at a filter feeding competition.

Of course, if I'm filing, my mind can't wander, and must stay focused on the task at hand. This is the main reason my normal filing method can be summed up as 'piles'. I have 'this pile' and 'that pile', and of course, 'that pile over there'. It's all very scientific.

So for this challenge, I buckled down and did nothing but file for as long as possible in a row. Thanks to a lull at work, I had the chance to sort all their invoices into alphabetical order and then put them into the corresponding file.

20 minutes later, I was ready to call amnesty international. No human being should have to file for any length of time. It's literally sorting papers, then re-sorting them, putting them into cabinets in a very precise order, where they will never ever be looked at again.

Forget waterboarding, the CIA needs to investigate the 'alphabetizing, filing, and creating dividers for company subdivisions' torture. Those terrorists will never know what hit them!

About 40 minutes in, my brain shut off, and my limbs and spine more or less just operated on their own. At the 60 minute mark, I pulled the fire alarm and jumped out the window. Or something like that. It's hard to tell when your brain's shut off.


With all that flailing around in the office and fire marshall hubaloo, I was definitely ready for a break, and what could be more relaxing than staying still for an hour?

Of course, I was staying ABSOLUTELY still for an entire hour. No scratching, turning, shifting, or looking around. No TV, radio, or similar distractions either. Nothing besides motionlessness, and silence.

The novelty wears off surprisingly quick. After about 10 minutes, I started to kill time by playing the movie 'Clue' in my head, scene for scene. Then the itches started.

Paraplegics never get enough sympathy, especially in regards to 'itches'. Those unfortunate enough to not even be able to speak leave others wondering what they really want.


Eventually I got to the end credits of Clue, and fought off the near insanity of complete motionlessness, and then scratched away with the ferocity of a madman...leading me to the next challenge.


It starts small, like an overhead echo in a deep cavern. Pretty soon it's rising to a peak, and it's impossible to ignore. Eventually it consumes your every ounce of attention, turning into a deafening roar.

You scratch. You scratch as quickly and as frequently as your limbs will allow. Then you have to try again the next day.

This is the first of the challenges that I actually outright failed, at least in my first few attempts. Of course, no matter what, I caught myself reflexively scratching without even thinking, but that didn't count, as I couldn't find a way to avoid it.

Regardless, I could not intentionally scratch for an entire day, no matter how much it...ITCH! *SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH*

Sigh...regardless, the next day, I could not OH MY GOD IT'S SO BAD I CAN'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT! *SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH*


With the utmost intestinal fortitude, I somehow managed to eventually, after many many tries, go a full 24 hours without scratching.

There was pain.

Theer was burning.

There was (as far as I can tell) an invisible burning corkscrew digging into my knee.

Nevertheless, I somehow managed it, and I'm honestly not sure if it was worse than the wasabi or not.

I took shelter with my family, whom I knew would never intentionally hurt me.

Yeah, somehow I forgot about Amber.

With a grin that would've made the Marquis De Sade break into a cold sweat, she led me to Nicky, who had a particularly amused expression upon his face.


Picture this: it's a warm summer day in July. The toddlers in the family were playing in the pool, equipped with waterproof diapers. The inevitable occurs, and suddenly we're at the kitchen counter with adorable little Nicky.

The smell is everywhere.

Jenny casually pops off his diaper.


The water has...dear God...I can't even go into it.

How much does this kid freakin' eat?! You'd think he was consuming his own weight each day in fruit!

Throughout it all, Nicky is as pleased as can be, as if he'd achieved something spectacular. My God kid, you could at least feel sorry for us. But no, he's just happy to be a part of it all.

With mechanical rhythm and a stomach much stronger than my own, Jenny effortlessly disposes of the 'waste', cleans the boy off, powders him up, and slips him into a new suit, as I hold his legs up, and desperately wish I was back filing.

There's another torture for you, black ops. Get with the program. Simulated drowning is out. Paper pushing and diaper changing are in.