badinia, Author at Virginia Jones ⋆ Page 59 of 63

Fun In A Bottle: Capsule Toys

Modern postscript: Please thank my 2006 Sony Clie for these crappy photos! I loved that thing. Maybe as much as I love my iPhone.

Here is the bank of capsule toy machines in Singapore, with a child pretending to fight a cutout robot. They are the sophisticated, collectible cousins of the machines that sell useless crap in American supermarkets. The uselessness of the toys is not different, nor their inevitable fate as something unpleasant to step on in the dark. There are some “rare” toys that are more desirable, and entire sets can be bought at stores at huge markups, just to keep from having to pump dollar coins into the machines. There is a large box next to the arcade of toy machines to collect empty capsules for reuse. Here are some of the most special displays.

dig dug capsule toys singapore

Sure, every kid wants a trinket of Dig Dug, a game from when his parents were in elementary school.

how how dog capsule toys singapore

How can you think that the sound of a dog barking is How How?” This is one of the capsule toys that doubles as a cell-phone trinket, for the 8 year old that wants to distinguish himself apart from just having a Nelly ringtone.

frog mobile capsule toys singapore

Please note some of the things the frogs say as they are driving their vehicles: “I love surfing!” and “I am No. 1!” That’s what it is to be an American.

wooly mammoth capsule toys

Why would a child want an automatically sliced wooly Mammoth steak?

san-x capsule toys

A capsule machine from my favorite weird Sanrio imitator, San-X. That bunny is also a mummy, or possibly he’s just horribly injured.

ban-dai panda capsule toys singapore

This one is a panda machine operated by another, tiny panda, and it reads “Let’s try to find our future!” If my future involves evil dual Panda overlords, I don’t want to find it.

bandai hentai capsule toys singapore

Little boys still like sex, right?

lion dance capsule toys singapore

When lucky dragons attack! Holy Shit!

golden dinosaur capsule toy yujin singapore

Step right up and get your Golden Dinosaur!

yujin nightmare before christmas capsule toy

Jack Skellington’s career keeps on going in Asia, just like Roy Clark’s does in Branson, MO.

hackman capsule toy singapore

This one was so mysterious that I had to plunk three dollar coins in. What was it? Am I really gonna get a hunched-over, vomiting cellphone charm?

hackman guitar

And that’s exactly what I got. This one is vomiting up a tiny Flying V guitar, which makes him the “Rock” Hackman. If you are what you eat, surely you are what you later vomit up.

hackman toy designer

Bizarre small-world postscript: A friend was in Tokyo a week later, and met Hackman’s designer, who sent me another a Hackman capsule. She explained that Hackman comes in twos, because when you are sick, your friend will come to your aid.

OnLeigh You

Well, if you recall, I threatened that we were dressing as deceased lifestyle artist Leigh Bowery for Halloween, and here are how the outfits turned out. They are a simple combination of 15 yards of fabric, four gloves, 500 pink paillettes, including those that have dropped off in my glittery wake, and a replica WWI helmet.

They are great to drink and dance in, but terrible to eat, negotiate cramped parties, and do rifle practice in. After 6 clubs and parties, a total of 6 people identified our artist, which was 5 more than we expected. I was somewhat surprised that when I ran into friends and acquaintances, I was recognized as myself with 100% accuracy.

Apparently, my voice is distinctive, as is my propensity for yelling. However, two of my friends said that talking to me in the mask for extended periods of time was “creepy.”

I found that answering the question “What are you?” with the actual answer, “Leigh Bowery“, was tedious after awhile, because if we were not recognized immediately, giving the answer did not help the observer.

Our final count for Halloween was THREE costume contests won, one of which Ryan had to pull off solo, and one of which we won despite having already left the bar.

Hooray!

*Please note: I have replaced my former spouse’s name with Ryan Gosling’s in all posts, because someone searched for him and wound up here and screw that. Yes, I am extremely mature.

I love you, Farin Urlaub!

Farin Urlaub – Sumisu

For the Halloween season, enjoy this German pop song by Farin Urlaub about the Smiths, set to a video about Nosferatu. And Morrissey. So, it’s a German song about a British band, and the title is “Smiths” in Japanese. Welcome to the new world order. You know, the British invented Goth, but the Germans have really perfected it.

Marathon Postscript

FAQ’s on my first Portland Marathon:

Q1. Did the St. Johns’ Bridge suck?

A1. Maybe for babies. It wasn’t nearly as rough as the Golden Gate bridge.

Q2. What deep thoughts did you have at mile 15?

A2. If someone had told me a year ago that I would want to stop at mile 15 and fill my socks with Vaseline, I would have called ’em crazy, but there I was.

Q3. What was the best thing you saw all day?

A3. In industrial Northwest, a baby stroller with an English Bulldog puppy in it. That actually might be the best thing I’ve seen, ever.

Q4. Can you finish a long race without getting black toenails?

A4. Evidently not, no.

Q5. What was your super-secret 256K playlist on your $12 mp3 player?

A5. You can see it here, if you want to. When I was finishing, “Positive Vibrations” came up, and it was helpful, because I was just starting to think that time had stopped and that I would be trapped in the 25th mile in a Groundhog’s Day manner.

Q6. What business did you most enjoy running past?

A6. The adult video store, Fat Cobra.

Q7. What kind of time did you finish in?

A7. I finished ten minutes under my estimated time at 5:20. I am happy with it. No, really, I am!

Q8. What deep thoughts did you have at Mile 23?

A8. Words that can be formed out of the letters in Portland: Art, Pot, Port, Land, Pardon, Patrol, Patron, Portal, Adopt, Adorn, Apron, Plant, Polar, Nodal, Opal, Drop, Pod, LARP, Lap, Pal, Rot, Tan, Nor, Toad, Rapt, Pond. Best Anagram: Pant Lord.

Q9. Did you hit “The Wall?”

A9. No, I just ran slowly for 5 hours, walked for twenty minutes, ate some cookies and went home.

Q10. What was the most Portland-y thing you saw?

A10. A runner in my pace group was not wearing shoes or a shirt, and had his timing chip taped around his ankle. His feet were uglier than most people’s.

Q11. Can encouraging spectators pronounce “Badinia?”

A11. No, but it was nice of them to try.

Here is a picture of me and Hazel, after one of us ran a marathon and the other slept in and chewed on an artificial squirrel.

Marathon Effort!

On Sunday, I’m either going to run 26.2 miles, or else I’m going to die trying. I could potentially win, if something really awful happened to everyone else. The thing that is so great about running is that it feels so good to stop. Nothing feels as good as stopping running, and I’m looking forward to that as much as anything else. I have been training for this race for 8 months, which is three months longer than I spent preparing to get married.

I discovered today that any interested parties can keep track of my progress on their telephone by signing up for updates on this website – click on the Portland Marathon link. We can enjoy the day together- you get up, flip through the paper, note that I’m on mile five, have breakfast in bed with your European lover, laughing together about the amount of time it took me to get to mile 12, bathe, get dressed, complete a 500 piece puzzle and watch two movies and note that I have finally finished and know that I am out there somewhere, cursing and wearing a Mylar blanket.

My running bib number is 261, which you’ll need if you want to get updates- if it behooves you to drop me an encouraging line or give me advice on what else should be Vaselined, please do, but please don’t write me about your friend who started a marathon as a healthy and productive member of society but later fell across the finishline on two bloody stumps.

Laurie Anderson at PICA’s TBA

I am looking forward to seeing the Queen of Performance Art and half of the Coolest New York Downtown Couple, a Laurie Anderson, performing in Portland tonight as part of PICA’s TBA festival. I have been a fan of hers since before I knew who she was, after I caught the last third of a performance of “Babydoll” on SNL in 1986, and carried the voice around in my head for two years until I was at a friend’s house listening to “Sharkey’s Day” from “Mister Heartbreak.” I met her once in Houston, TX, in 1992 at a pro-Dem art event, where she sat coolly on a picnic blanket in a baseball cap and I gibbered to her like an idiot.

And yet, I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about meeting Paris Hilton.

P.S. It was a lovely show! Spouse was surprised that we were on the front row, because evidently did not understand the level of my Laurie worship and ninja ticket-buying skills. She has stripped down from previous shows to storytelling and violin playing, with a minimum of extra clutter. She dressed like a little Buddhist monk and told stories about her stint as N.A.S.A.’s first (and last) artist in residence, and about the 10 day walks she’s taken with her rat terrier, and about space and time and nature and owls and Thomas Pynchon.

O Canada!

I almost don’t want to mention my “Labour” day weekend in Canada for fear that others will think I’m all snobby and too good for them.

I like any kind of international travel I can do in our Volvo. I was there for the Vancouver International Tap Festival, but I tell cool people that I was there for A Scooter Rally Called George, which was simultaneously occurring.

Tap dancing is fun, and affords one the opportunity to step really hard on one’s own foot that rarely comes up in day to day life. Also, you can make a lot of noise with your feet. I enjoyed classes from Jazz-Tap clown prince Josh Hilberman, although he cost me a toenail and caused me to interact with 10 year old tap prodigies. If there’s anything worse than children, it’s really cute and talented children.

This is the mad, mad world of downtown parking. You have to be able to count, tell time, and know what day it is while you’re parallel parking, which is not as difficult as figuring out how much you’re paying for gas in liters and loonies. Eventually, we just left the car with a dozen Loonies stuck in the windshield to ward off parking ticket fairies. I kind of like getting a ticket in Canada, because that means I have something to put my gum in when I’m done chewing it. We were near the “hip” walk-around-shopping-and-looking-at-hookers-area, Gastown, named for the founder Gassy Jack, whom I don’t want to know any more about. They also feature a steam-powered clock!