This is Rule #2 in my Disneyland rules SPECIAL. If you did not read Rule #1, you did not miss much. Just the greatest blog post to ever grace the interwebs; that’s all.
Oh, so you do want to read Rule #1?
Just finger this O and it will lead the way.
For those of us continuing the journey. Proceed.
Now then, from the man who brought you Rule #1 and the hit Hip-Hop single Trying Desperately (#1 single on eTunes in FOUR countries, not yet to exist), the man with no plan, that one guy who writes stuff, he needs no further introDUNKtion (Because I am watching the Finals…Some basketball association. Although, the game will be long over by the time this is posted.)…Drum roll please….The titillating Kenny!
I just introduced myself. I just did that.
2. Do the Disneyland Walk™
Now anyone who has visited this magical kingdom knows of the difficulties that abound when trying to navigate the lands. The way in which to accomplish this task is to perform the Disneyland Walk™. In other words, you do not care what obstacles are in your path, you walk and you do not stop.
The Disneyland Walk™ is an innate subconscious choice. In high school, if you were walking the halls and got shoulder bumped, the dukes would go up. (No, not John Wayne.) In Disneyland it is encouraged. If I get there at eight in the morning and I haven’t disturbed eight lovely couple photos, toppled over a child to get to Goofy first, or scattered a school of, well, a school of schoolgirls by nine, I must still be in the entrance line. You have to put caution to the wind. You walk with no peripheral vision. It is only you and the Matterhorn.
There is one thing you must be somewhat aware of: strollers. Strollers are like the four-wheeled monsters of the amusement park. A bludgeon. Nobody likes them. They slither back and forth with their whiny cargo ready to sideswipe any passersby.
And who’s bright idea was it to let the ten year old push it? There is a reason why ten year olds do not drive in highly congested cities. Does that mean I am advocating for a ten year old to have the right to drive in South Dakota? Sure. I’d be impressed if they hit anything of value out there. You took out the Corn Palace? The Corn Palace? You did the world a favor.
I’m sure everyone has a story or two about being sideswiped by a stroller. Worse yet, the tandem stroller. Now the monster has grown. I don’t even want to know what monster will be revealed when the Octomom uses her hard-earned soft-core porn money to take the children to Disneyland. Get hit by that beast, and there goes your ACL. Stick a fork in ‘em, they’re done.
Or are you? There are always wheelchairs. You can rent one from Disneyland for the price of your first born child. Who do you think they fill those costumes with when it is 100 degrees outside? Don’t worry though. There is always an upside. Here is the chart:
Give up first born –> Get a wheel chair –>Don’t have to wait in long lines.
Let me weigh the options…Whatever is pound for pound the best choice.
The slightly altered rule applies for wheelchairs. They must Disneyland Roll, but the premise is still the same.
So Rule #2…Disneyland Walk™ over Jiminy. There’s no conscience. You follow the Dewey Cox and walk hard. Strollers are inevitable; brace yourself for impact at all times and do the Disneyland Walk™.
Disneyland…The happiest place on Earth.
Do I concur with the aforementioned statement? Partially.
My experiences at Disneyland have not been documented to the extent of other interests I have divulged. Yet, do not let that contort your mind into believing that Disneyland is not a legit place to go. While you faithful savants may have your own impression of Disneyland, let me express to you mine. This will be a SPECIAL three part blog. Each blog will contain a rule on Disneyland. If you do not like Disneyland, you may not care for this SPECIAL. Also, I am unsure why I capitalized SPECIAL, but I can’t stop now. I’m no quitter.
Now then, I have broken the Disneyland down to three distinct rules.
There are three rules of Disneyland.
- All Six Universal Emotions need to be used. You will come happy; leave angry.
If I had photographer skills other than the capabilities that my iPhone 3GS bestows upon me, I would sit (maybe stand; depending on my mood) outside of Disneyland and take pictures. This would make for a great coffee table book…”The Happiest Faces on Earth.” I would love to capture people on their way in to Disneyland and their way out. When going in, you are fresh and spritely. People are doing little skips down Main Street, not a worry in the world (Well, except for locking up a Fast Pass to Pirates of Caribbean). Now, when people head back down Main Street to leave the park, one might think they stepped on the set of The Walking Dead. If you do not look like a cranky zombie; you are not doing something right (Or you went back and took a mid-day nap. You sly son-of-a-bitch you!). You ever why the characters do not come out at night? It’s because Mickey Mouse doesn’t want to be punched in the face after the realization has set in on some cranky forty-seven year old mother that she just spent $24 dollars on two pretzels. Rule number one implies that every visitor of Disneyland should experience the six universal emotions.
Happiness – “Yay, I’m in Disneyland, this is the start of a wonderful day. Ooh! Look! There’s Pluto! Photo-op!”
Sadness – “Thunder Mountain Railroad is closed down? Wha…I never get to ride this one. *tear* I mean, come on! It’s not like someone died on it.” OR “Where is Jessica Rabbit at? I never seem to find her…*sighs*”
Fear – (Thunder Mountain Railroad opens up. You decide to ride it.) “Holy shit! I think I’m gonna die!”
Disgust – “There is STILL no Aladdin ride? Pitiful.”
Anger – “I HATE STROLLERS!” OR “How the hell do I get out of here?!”
End note: Why don’t they have rides for some of their classic 90s films? Aladdin, Mulan, Hercules, Beauty and the Beast, and flippin’ Lion King.
Aladdin practically writes its own ride.
It’d be eye opening. I’m envisioning it taking you wonder by wonder. It would go a variety of directions. Over, sideway, and under. Like…oh, like a magic carpet ride. All, I’m saying is it would be a whole new world.
No, really. Disney should take out that stage they never use in Fantasy Land (Yes, I know my park. What what.) And they should build a giant Cave of Wonders. The ride would be a mini rollercoaster-esque magic carpet ride. I am imagining a mixture between Peter Pan and Indiana Jones. That would be amazing. If you read this Disney, get on it.
I have something I need to get off my chest.
I have a Pinterest account. There, I’ve said it. To alleviate any angst that my revelation may have evoked, I will put your minds at ease and announce that the account has not been accessed in some time. In fact, one could say that I have and I haven’t a Pinterest account. It’s the equivalent of someone stating that they HAVE a humorous blog, but the content is humorless (maybe it’s nothing like that). Regardless, that time is behind me; and it’s a good thing too. My Y chromosomes were beginning to question their existence.
But before I get too carried away with my overly built up hostility towards Pinterest, let me inform you on what it helped me accomplish.
Those who have been diligently reading my blog know that I have been attempting to read a minimum of one book per month. This is difficult when all aspects of life coalesce into a heaping pile of
shit sunshine and flowers. You all know what I am saying…Okay, so maybe not all. Anyhow, more reading equates to more books. And more books…Well let me create a competent diagram to help everyone better under the complexity of it all:
I have done the reading, I have accumulated the books, and now I need a bookshelf. That is where Pinterest enters. The site has some pretty awesome Do It Yourself (DIY) projects, and who doesn’t love some good DIY? I found one that turned cheap crates into nice decorative bookshelves. Due to my lack of space at the moment, I only awarded myself three crates. (For all those mathematician majors, or minors, you are correct in your calculation of only two crates pictured below. For those who are seeing three, I’ll have what you are having.)
Once I had the proper tools, I began the transformation. I popped open the can of stain and slathered it onto the crate until the proper pigmentation. My antecedent knowledge on the aforementioned process was nil. After one crate, I could have been a member of the Black Hands. You could have called me Gavrilo Princip. (A little Serbian humor for you.) This meant that gloves were like batteries; not included. From that point forward, I embraced the stain and decorated my bod with the war paint. In all fairness, the fumes were beginning to saturate the air and I was on cloud nine. I suppose I also underestimated the word stain, because for the next two days my chest was speckled with the stuff. I could have been handed off to the victors at the Brit Awards. Preferably Lana Del Rey. Anyhow, enough about that. Here are the results:
Future…but with actual books.
There are only two positives that come from Valentine’s Day.
The first being Brach’s little candy hearts. I love those chalk candies. I pop them like House pops pills. (Bummer. This reminds me of the fact that House M.D is over and all my analogies involving that subject matter will soon be antiquated.) I devour those candy hearts like they are going out of style…Wait a second…This is, however, excellent news for my future spouse. I have designed a plan and all she will have to do to make me happy is to give me the “stuff”. A few pounds will suffice. As for this year, I have to buy it for myself on the Black Market. It is a little liquor store around the way, “Black’s Market and Deli;” delicious sandwiches.
The second is chocolate. This is not as luxurious of an item because its availability does not pertain to a specific duration of time. You may not be able to find exquisitely petite red boxes that scream “I’m getting lucky tonight!” or heart shaped chocolates, but chocolate is nevertheless present during every waking moment of one’s existence. Still, Valentine’s Day gives us, or shall I say me, the excuse to indulge. I put on my fat boy pants and go to town on that box. Nom-nom-nom-nom.
Which brings me to the point of all this. Why is it when you buy a Valentine’s box or classic See’s Candy assortment box that there is only ever one delicious piece of chocolate? And you know the piece I am talking about. The highly coveted caramel. The battle for that caramel piece gets intense too. Once that lid is lifted and the chocolates are exposed, it’s game time. The winner is that lucky sonofa%$#$# that get’s the golden egg: the chocolate caramel.
Here is how it goes down: I start this race by biting into one. Coconut? Flippin’ coconut? Why? Did I ask for an assortment of God’s most inadequate creations? Am I going to unearth Justin Bieber in the next one? This is horrible. I try a second chocolate. Nuts. If there is one way to quickly ruin a good thing it is by adding nuts to food products. Judging by past female reaction, that may be a quick way to ruin all good things. I bite the third chocolate. Some kind of dark yellow cream. Not horrible, and I’ll eat the entire chocolate, but by God I have to get back down to brass tacks and find that caramel. And it is usually in, on, or around this time that someone walks by and grabs a chocolate, and wouldn’t you know it, it is the caramel. It is upsetting. Not because I did not get the chocolate, I can live with that, but that they did not put in time for that caramel.
When it comes down to it, Forest Gump was right. Life is a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get…in a box of chocolates. People have to experience the bad ones to know the true value of the good. Or they could just buy the box that states what each chocolate is, but that would negate this whole post. And that, my friends, is no Bolshevik.
I sit. And by sit, I mean lay down on my bed. I always do my best work in bed. I begin preparing myself for the writing task ahead of me. What will be the focus of my post? What topic will I hack the normalcy out of?
And that is where it stops.
I’ve realized something important about myself from my writing methodology. I am a wannabe loner. And by this I mean I want to establish an idea and catechize it alone, but I do not. My process is a little different.
Here is how it works: I prod the kitchen of my mind and find the correct ingredients to prepare my idea. This is difficult to do. Imagine being in a five star restaurant’s kitchen. Imagine all those rare succulent delicacies and piquant seasonings. The all too ample amount of the finest cookery spread throughout the islands, counters, and cupboards. Just imagine. Now times that by forty-two; the answer to life, universe, and everything; and you have the innards of my minds kitchen. May I remind you, this is just the kitchen. Once the required ingredients are obtained, I make dough. Yes, flour and water. When the mixture has accumulated into a solid mass, I make magic happen. I take that dough, the essence of my idea, and I do what any decent chef would do; I slap it. I slappa da dough! This is the most climacteric step in the entire ordeal.
This is where it goes from solo to a show yo.
In Mighty Morphin Power Ranger terms, this is where my Tyrannosaurus Dinozord joins forces and becomes the Megazord.
Or, in my kitchen analogy, it’s where I slap people in the face with floury dough. A much kneaded process. Hitting people with my idea both literally and figuratively allows my mind to churn. There feedback, albeit often irrelevant to the direction I take, aids me in flushing out that wondrous dough into a pizza masterpiece. Once this is done, I slather on the tomato sauce (glue of my story), overload it with cheese (the jokes), and sprinkle on some pepperonis (no symbolism, I just like pepperonis). And viola! A bost is porn.
While this blog is comprised of 93% of my own ideas, that 7% of others insight is a tremendous boost in making what is great, brilliant. I am not completely alone in my process. I can’t be. Hence, I am just a wannabe loner.
Have you ever thought: “Wow, I just can’t get enough of these titillating thoughts. I wish there was a way in which I could have all of the greatest recorded material in one place!”
Look no further. You postulated, predicted, inferred, and guessed it. Here is the greatest collection of videos from Titillating Thoughts that has EVER been assembled. It has screechy vocal chords, skits, celebrity impersonations, AND MORE. This collection has it all. And if that wasn’t enough, if you order now you will get all the videos PLUS a pair of nail clippers WITH FREE nail filer, yes I said FREE! Just call the number below to order this:
1-800-Ifyouareinterestedinsendingmemoneycomment (We’ll be in touch.)
[Shipping & handling fees will be $19.89. It is non-refundable. Asian woman sold separately.]
Note: Videos are in chronological order.
“CartoonGate” – (2013): A diddy I made about Nickelodeon cartoons from the 1990s. If you like oldschool Nickelodeon, you’ll like my rap. It is to the beat of Rugrats.
“Trying Desperately” – (2013): A little rap I made after a long hiatus. I like the beat.
“Leaving On a Jet Plane” – (2012): This is just a casual performance. I am trying to sing while playing a little diddy on my guitar.
“The Girl” – (2012): A semi-decent acapella cover of City and Colour.
“Kiss to Build a Dream On” – (2012): A karaoke version of a Louis Armstrong classic. It is done by and in the style of Louis Armstrong and Kermit the Frog.
“Believe” – (2011): A karaoke Brooks and Dunn rendition done by yours truly. If you like country music, here you go.
“The Break Through” – (2010): My hip-hop single. Aight?
“Guy Love” – (2010): Let’s face the facts. Scrubs is the best show ever. A tribute to it. Allow the hilarity to ensue.
“The Do-Do’s” – (2008): An underrated video. From an outsiders prospective it is a stupid simple concept and took too long to make. From my perspective it is flippin’-amazing. Fun stuff. Also, has a little bonus song in the last portion of the video.
“I’m Yours” – (2008): A cover of Jason Mraz’s song. One of our first…And last band videos.
“Anti-Drug Commercial” – (2008): Great concept.
There you have it!
Feel free to post your thoughts and vote on your favorite of the bunch.
Books. Only a letter away from having my complete interest…You know, ’cause I love to cook and all. Ahem. Ahem. Still, I stand not at ease with books, but at attention. I love a finely worded sentence that when woven together with one thousand six hundred and ninety-one others, placed on a delicate roll of parchment, and professionally bound, construct a book. Books provide me with a mind-bind fond-bond experience! Once upon a time I thought about becoming a librarian. (Sidenote: Are you aware that all librarians have master degrees? I was completely unaware of the educational prowess it took to become a librarian. It turns out that you do not just need a pair of glasses.) Instead I settled upon a career in teaching. Just the same, fortune and fame are not in my future. Only an ample amount of free time awaits me. Such is the horrible trade-off (>.>). But with that time I can read these books that I have so fervently excreted over. Ever hear of the white album? Yeah…
I enter into sporadic spurts when involved in books. There will be months on end that I only read for necessity, and not out of the necessity of pleasure. Then, out of the fog (because the blue is limited in my realm), I will immerse myself in word soaked paper and read. I have been tracking my progress with GoodReads.com; a site I suggest you join and friend me, even if we are not actually friends and it is just a mutual agreement to criticize one another’s atrocious reading selections. Well, your atrocious reading selections, unless of course you are reading what I am. Then it is okay. Straight up. Word. Speaking of such, I do not care for the phrase: “The book is too wordy.” It is a book. It consists of nothing but words. And I know what they mean, but before we fix the book, let’s fix their vocabulary. Too wordy? Gah! I digress…
Now that I have expressed my interest in books and have established the amount of time I have to read such wonders; I need to find them. This is where I stand at another ill-slated front. Do I buy, borrow, or steal? I want to start defining my book collection, but I do not want to forfeit appropriate currency to build it. I have found myself wavering on a borrow/buy concept. First I will borrow the book from el biblioteca (library). I like borrowing from the library; the books have character. They are soiled and worn. Just imagine all the fecal matter that has been disposed of in the presence of one book. That is a lot of shits. And with shits, comes innovation – ideas. Or maybe just shitty ideas. On that same topic, I often wonder which is dirtier, a pornographic magazine or a library book? That’s a good ‘ole mind tickler. Anyhow, I borrow the book, read it, and if I enjoy its contents I will splurge the three dollars at a thrift store or Amazon PRIME and purchase that book for my collection. I know, this concept leaves people dumbfounded. Why would I buy a book I have just read and have no intention of reading it again anytime soon? Good question. No equally good answer. Because my bookshelf is bare? Because I want to support the authors (who are mostly dead)? Because I want my collection of books to be a representation of myself? Science fiction and fantasy mixed in with a touch of non-fiction and historical accuracy. Not all in one book of course, but that’s not to say that it can’t be. Historically accurate fantasy. Do you believe in magic? Perhaps in a young girls heart…Or maybe I buy the book just because…I do what I want.