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Charlie Hatton
Brookline, MA
I originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
Last weekend, my wife dragged me out to see Cirque du Soleil. I was skeptical, to say the least. If Loverboy, Celine Dion and that girl from How I Met Your Mother have taught us anything, it’s that French Canadians and artsy performances do not mix.
Still, I gave it a go. And as I watched, a magical thing happened. Somewhere between the plum-smuggling club jugglers and the bendy girls who can eat lunch off their own rear ends, I remembered: I always wanted to be in the circus. Performing under the big top, dodging mounds of elephant scat, picking up hobos and dressing them as clowns — yep, that’s the life for me.
Tragically, I never gave it a shot. I always figured my lack of talent, fumbly fingers, fear of heights, generous size, brittle joints, two left feet, terrible aim and severe caramel corn allergy would keep me out of the circus forever.
But why quibble with reality when Amazon.com is right here with everything I need to realize my big top dream? If you’ve always wanted to run away and le join le Cirque, read on for a game plan to make it happen — and my actual Amazon reviews of all the products listed. Maybe you can join me in the big show someday. If nothing else, we’re always looking for more hobos.
My Amazon Review:
I figured I should look the circus part, so I ordered a pair of these tights. And when they say “tights,” they’re not just whistling Dixie. In fact, if they were wearing a pair of these, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be ABLE to whistle. Or breathe, especially. I sneezed while wearing mine, and blew out a big toe.
On the same note, they’re not especially flattering on certain body types. I checked myself in the mirror, and it looked like somebody had stretched cheesecloth over two lopsided watermelons. I’m not even going to say whether I was facing front or back at the time. Just be glad this isn’t a video review, is all I’m saying.
I’m not sure whether there’s such a thing as “Brontosaurus Toe.” But I’m quite certain you do NOT want to see it. You’re welcome.
My Amazon Review:
Everybody loves a clown, so I bought this kit to work on my over-aggressive cheek appling and “Whaaaa?!” eyebrows. The paint was great — easy on, easy off, no mess and no stains. I scared the bejeezus out of my wife by waking her up with a wide variety of painted-on faces, so it definitely works. She has a “clown thing,” it turns out — some sort of early trauma involving a McDonald’s Happy Meal. So everybody loves a clown but *her*, evidently.
Sadly, I didn’t get to use the whole kit, because my dog got into it after the first couple of days and lapped up the rest of the paint. It’s non-toxic, so it doesn’t seem to have hurt her — but taking her on bathroom walks has been a lot more interesting since then. When she squats, it’s like opening a bag of Skittles. I might buy another kit and add it to her food, just to keep the neighbors’ stares coming.
My Amazon Review:
You can’t have a circus without jugglers, so that seemed like an easy way for me to get into the ring. I bought this set, thinking that “Complete” meant it would have everything I’d need to learn to land a big top job.
Not so. This set only has balls, scarves, pins, rings and a plate. That’s it. Where are the knives? The chainsaws? The bowling balls and flaming torches and long-handled hatchets? “Complete”? Hardly.
Still, I figured I could at least learn the “remedial” stuff before sending it back for a refund. So I tried juggling the pins. Three bonks on the head, two smashed toes and a Heimlich maneuver later, I think I might go a different career direction than juggler, after all. Unless maybe the chainsaws are actually easier. I should give that a shot first, just to be sure.
As it happens, this is approximately how most of Paris Hilton’s “juggling” performances end, too.
My Amazon Review:
My favorite part of the circus is all the aerial acts — artists swooping back and forth and looping overhead like a flock of graceful, wingless non-pooping birds. I’ll have to work my way up to the hard stuff, but I bought this swing to practice some basic moves — flips and throws and somersaults, nothing too difficult.
Unfortunately, I live in a condo, and I don’t have anywhere outside to tie it up. So I asked my wife if I could hang it on the shower rod, and practice stunts in the bathroom. She said I could put it there just as soon as I could do a running backflip and land in the tub. So I tried.
That didn’t go well.
Does giving yourself an involuntary Pert Plus enema count as “sticking the landing”? I need a ruling down here.
When I’d mostly healed, I suggested that since we already had the swing, maybe we could just hang it in the shower for more … “romantic” pursuits.
She said I’d have to do a DOUBLE backflip for that. So it looks like I’m going to need a good chiropractor — whether I manage to land this move or not.
Join in on the prank! Click the links to see each real-life Amazon review, then mark them as “helpful” so they rise to the top of the list on Amazon. Or click here to read and rate the entire library of Zolton reviews!
Permalink | No CommentsI originally wrote this piece for MediaShower.com, for use on the late, great comedy site ZuG.com. Text and images published here with permission.
Valentine’s Day is the most perfect day of the entire year — there’s something for everyone. Pretty girls get showered with gifts and flowers. Single people are allowed to vent the grim burning hatred they secretly harbor for anyone in a relationship. Ugly children are taught the valuable life lesson that they’ll never find love, due to their shameful and repulsive appearance.
And slack-jawed Neanderthals like me are allowed one precious fleeting chance to make up for all of the stupid, lazy, thoughtless, horny, arrogant and unromantic things we’ve done in the past calendar year. Namely, all of them. In one fell Valentine’s Day swoop, the properly executed Grand Romantic Gesture can get you out of the doghouse and back in the bunkhouse. At least until your next idiot move.
But Grand Romantic Gestures can cost a lot of scratch. What if you’re trying to worm back into her G-string on a budget that’s shoestring? Fret not, undersexed horndogs. With just a few bucks and some help from good old Amazon, you too can put the charge back in your love life, and the buzz back in the nightstand drawer.
Here are just a few of the romantical feats I pulled off this Valentine’s Day, along with the real-life Amazon reviews I posted. You’ve got a whole twelve months’ worth of idiocy to work through; next V-Day, you can try these, too:
My Amazon Review:
My wife loves the scene in “Ghost” where Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore make an ashtray together. She says there’s more to it than that, but of all the things she talked about, “pottery wheel” is the only one I could find on Amazon.
This wheel seems very sturdy, and definitely held a lot of clay when I brought it home for us to try out. We set it up in front of the TV so we could watch the scene for sculpting pointers; unfortunately, neither of us is very coordinated and making pottery is apparently harder — and a lot messier — than it looks in the movies. We’ve decided to keep the wheel, but we’re now looking to buy a new television, couches, a rug and new paint for the walls and ceiling.
And next year, I think I’ll just BUY her an ashtray.
My Amazon Review:
What’s more romantic than the image of John Cusack with his boombox in “Say Anything,” playing sweet Peter Gabriel nothings to his sweetie? This sturdy, durable throwback cassette-and-CD combo player was perfect for me to recreate the scene. I downloaded a copy of “In Your Eyes” on MP3, burned it to CD, dubbed it over to a blank tape, and I was all set.
Of course, my wife and I live in the same house, so I couldn’t very well serenade her from the street. Plus, it’s cold outside, and the neighbors already give me funny looks. So I decided to stand outside our bathroom door after her shower one morning. Me romantic, her naked — perfect.
Unfortunately, holding this oversized bulky monster over my head for four-plus minutes wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. And all that re-re-recording of the song made it come out all muffled and tinny through the detachable speakers. One of which detached during the chorus and bonked me in the head. By the time the song was over, I was collapsed under the boombox in a heap on the floor, and my wife — wrapped demurely in a towel — cracked the bathroom door to ask:
“Did you just say something? I had the blow dryer on.”
…In your eyes… (I’m on my back) …In your eyes… (It’s a heart attack) … I feel the weight… of a thousand pounds a-crushing…
So I’m still in the doghouse, and may have suffered the first Lloyd Dobler-related hernia on medical record. Outstanding.
My Amazon Review:
These Necco hearts are a great tradition; I thought they’d really take my wife back to the good old days when we’d sit and pass them back and forth, cooing the messages to each other. (But hopefully not back to the time we actually tried eating one, and everything tasted like used blackboard for a week.)
I opened the bag and looked at a few, and I have to say that I was a bit disappointed. Maybe the slogans just seemed more sentimental back then, but ditties like “U R 2 CUTE” or “BE MINE” just weren’t doing it for me. Where was the “GR8 CABOOSE” or the “HOMINA HOMINA” or “U MAKE A KILLER TUNA CASSEROLE”? I needed these candies to be special — to make her feel like a queen for a day.
So I did a little “editing.” I grabbed a Sharpie, took a handful of hearts, and licked off all the messages. Then I wrote in my own, put them back in the bag, and started another handful. I don’t know whether it was the Sharpie or all the candy I was ingesting, but eventually I keeled over in a haze of marker fumes and chalk dust. My wife found me passed out with “ASK ME ABOUT MY UNDERPANTS” stuck to my forehead.
The queen was NOT amused.
Oh, you may not want me NOW — but just wait until I lick a love poem onto your sidewalk, baby. Giggity goo.
My Amazon Review:
One of the most romantic things I can think of would be to write a love message to my wife in the sky. But I can’t afford an actual skywriter, so I figured this RC plane would have to do. At least I could “sky”-write a message to my sweetie in our living room. The whole world might not see it, but at least the dog would be entertained.
I bought this plane and spent a few days getting my loop-de-loops and barrel rolls down until I was pretty good with it. The controls were pretty intuitive, and the plane very responsive and maneuverable; just what I was looking for.
Sadly, it was then that I found out there’s no “smoke canister” attachment sold for this model. I wasn’t sure if I could still use it, until I got the bright idea to light a little ball of paper and attach it to the tail. I couldn’t turn the smoke off, but at least I could profess my love in aerial cursive. How romantic is that?
Of course, futzing with the tail fin threw the controls out of whack a little. On my first trial run, I lost altitude coming out of a spin and the plane careened into the drapes. Which caught on fire, naturally. And singed the magazine rack next to the window, and pretty much reduced the plane to a charred melted heap of nothing. I had a little dust bunny Hindenburg, right in my living room.
Okay, I’ll just cross the “t” in “poopchute” and… OH, THE HUMANITY!!!
So now I’m getting the missus new drapes for Valentine’s Day. And I’ve agreed not to try operating aircraft, remote controls or fire for the foreseeable future. Not as “romantic” as I might have liked, perhaps, but it seems like a fair trade.
Join in on the prank! Click the links to see each real-life Amazon review, then mark them as “helpful” so they rise to the top of the list on Amazon. Or click here to read and rate the entire library of Zolton reviews!
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(The ‘Eek!Cards’ explan.)
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