Posts tagged Transformers

Haikuesday

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Bright childhood robots

Look so dull and lifeless now

But I won’t forget

 

 

 

That Bedroom, Those Robots

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Never underestimate the simple power of actually giving a shit.

Please allow me to explain.

Takara Tomy has gone and announced that their next Masterpiece release will in fact be Prowl. Prowl is special to me and he’s one of my favorite G1 bots. He was voiced by the great Michael Bell and he was a cop car. And my Great Grandmother Pearl gave him to me for Christmas shortly before she passed away. Pearl lived up to every bit of her precious name. My memories of her have faded with time I’m sure but those I can recall are filled with laughter and the fact she loved me so very, very much. She cooked endless bowls of Beanie-Weenies during my visits and would sit for endless hours as I mundanely rolled a spool of thread off the edge of a table pretending I had psychic powers. She would never say anything to convince me otherwise.

That last Christmas, as she lay weak from years of valiantly battling cancer, she smiled once more as I entered her last bedroom. I knew when I looked into her eyes something was different this time. It should have been so sad but Pearl would have none of that. Gingerly and with great effort she turned and reached for two packages that had been hidden on the opposite side of her bed and handed them to me with care. 

I opened Trailbreaker and Prowl that day. In retrospect I’m sure it was with no small amount of help from my Mom that she managed this feat. Pearl had to stay in bed and was very, very sick but I believed somehow she had found those two Autobots because she knew how much they meant to me. 

Seeing Prowl today still reminds me of how much I meant to her.

She was born in the early 1900s and probably couldn’t tell a Transformer from a teapot but in that moment none of that mattered. She poured what must have been so much of her remaining strength into those few minutes and outside of the pain and fear and her lack of Cybertronian knowledge she smiled because she had made me so happy. She didn’t need to know a Starscream from a Skywarp to teach me that investing in someone you love brings you one of life’s greatest returns. I will never forget the gentle lesson I learned that day. I don’t have to understand everything about you or even like all the same things to love you with all my heart. So today, transform your heart a bit, roll out and let someone know how much you care.  

 

Haikuesday

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The dust on my shelves

Light grey snow on Ratchet’s face

And more always falls

The Squid Scale takes hold of: Florida Supercon

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It was the best of cons it was the worst of cons. Okay, only one 12 hour period kind of sucked for one specific reason but everything else about July 1st through the 4th, 2011 was pretty peachy. I danced and hosted and cosplayed and drank my way through four wonderful days in North Miami right next to the airport at the appropriately named Miami Airport Convention Center, or M.A.C.C. All weekend it was M.A.C.C. and me…and thousands upon thousands of other people too. There, I got the “Mac and Me” joke out of the way early though from what I’ve been reading about “Dark of the Moon” perhaps another viewing of that piss poor E.T. knock off might not be so bad. But this isn’t about how Micheal Bay has pooped all over Optimus Prime and his ilk. No. It’s not about poop, it’s about shit. As in the time I had at Florida Supercon was the 😉

Traveling down to FSC on Thursday was like driving out of a hurricane’s asshole. Rain, torrential rain, off and on from the minute we hit 95 until we arrived at a Publix in close proximity to the hotel to pick up necessities like fruit for the raw diet indulging Anime Angie and water. Oh water, often forgotten at a con or even outright unavailable but more on that in a minute. Publix went well until we forgot to get cash back at checkout. I tried to cancel the transaction but the cashier conveyed we just couldn’t do that and we’d have to buy something else later to get the dough. I say “conveyed” as she spoke approximately zero words of English. Plus she was already pissed because I was going to carry two palattes of water on my own instead of using a cart. Sorry I work out and watch my portions so a few bottles of water isn’t going to break me. She however had had enough and started rambling in the aforementioned not-English to which I replied “Fuck!” which I’m pretty sure is a universal constant. Her reaction told me it was. And now it was raining again. The fact we were doused with water for the past 5 hours will seem ironically humorous in just a minute.

Okay, groceries bought and language lesson complete we made the last few blocks to the Doubletree Miami Mart Airport Hotel, got checked in and up to our room. After picking up our badges and hooking up with the rest of the Wasabi Anime crew we wandered the dealer’s room for a bit before heading back to the room to chill before we needed to get ready for “A Knight at Wayne Manor” and the “Arkham Rave” Supercon’s Friday night formal and super light sticky dances. This was when the long hours of drought fueled angst began. If you were there you already know what’s coming. I wish we had known, somehow, ugh, as Ang and I plan pretty damn well for most contingencies. We check and double check and triple check all our costume parts, we bring healthy snacks and our own alcohol, we always have enough time set aside for event preparation. Always. But nothing could have prepared us for a misguided backhoe crushing it’s way into the water main that oh so conveniently serviced the entire convention facility.

If any sitch required the oh my god-iest of OMGs this was certainly one of them. You can watch as many shows about third world countries as you want but until you go without fresh running water for a good amount of time you just don’t realize how good you’ve got it. Then again if you’ve never shaved with water heated up from a hotel room coffee maker then come on you’ve never really shaved. That worked out better than I would have imagined actually but there was nothing to be done for the grunge that clung to me like a wet sheet after the hours of dancing piled on top of the road trip funk. The hotel was giving away free bottled water which I took a palette of shocking the front desk guy not because I was carrying it on my own but because I needed so much. The two Dee Dees in full makeup that accompanied my sweaty suit clad ass was enough to convince the dude however and I’m sure the onslaught of guests that were, now 8 hours into the crisis, still without water helped the kissing of my stinky butt.

So gross, grimy, grungy…there just aren’t words. Rinsing in the sink was sort of okay for me but Ang needed more so off to the giant bathtub downstairs, AKA the pool, we went. I won’t admit to anything but I did see one incredibly hot chick in a Gir bikini with her soap, shampoo and facewash taking a secluded scrub in the shallow end. She looked a lot like my wife. So much so I invited her to come upstairs and sleep with me. Which she did. In fact it was my wife. In the pool and in the bed. So I did admit it after all. It seems that I don’t really care. I was over it all by this point. It was around 2:30 and we crashed, on top of the covers mind you in the hopes water would soon return and we’d get to shower and sleep on clean-ish sheets the rest of the weekend if we fought through this one last indignity.

When the toilet began to refill itself around 5 a.m. it sounded like a choir of angels singing. I heard them as if in a fever dream, calling to me, to get up to pee. And pee I did, in the water. The glorious, glorious water. Seriously, any longer without water and my eyes would have turned blue within blue and I’d have started riding sandworms. I went back to bed and got up a few hours later for a morning run. I don’t often stink but by the time I got back from my three miles the accumulated stank of the past 24 hours left me smelling like whore vomit. To say the shower I took that morning was one of the best I’ve ever had would be like saying Christine Hendricks boobs are sort of large. I wasn’t just washing away dirt, everything was being cleansed from bad memories of childhood trauma to having to sit through any of Michael Bay’s Transformer films. All of it gone. I emerged from the steamy salvation as a new man. I had survived being the filthiest I think I’ve ever been. Now I stood fresh as a daisy looking out of the hotel room’s floor to ceiling windows naked, did I mention I was naked, yes naked so all of Miami or at least anyone at the pool/bathtub below might see me and know the new gospel of gunk: I once was grimed but now I’m clean.

That was Day One. I shall talk no more of the bad times that befell me at FSC for those H2O-lees hours were the only bitter ones. The rest was all rubbing up against hot pants, Princess Leia with a glitter tattoo, more glow sticks, leather and spandex than you could ever need, sharing pizza with Gir, Sailor FN moon and of course woooooolves! All of this and more plus my squid scale ratings later in the week.

Till then,
TC

Haikuesday!

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New body and troops
Leonard Nimoy is inside
You go Galvatron

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