You might be wondering why I am reviewing potty training videos. Don’t worry, the Things are long past potty training (THANK YOU GOD) but Speaker 7’s mini Speaker is still trying to train his mother. I’m not sure if she’s viewed any of these videos yet, but she’s already done the potty chart, so we know she’s pretty desperate by now. Therefore I dedicate this post to her and all the other parents still in the trenches of literal crap.
While we’re on the subject of crap, let’s get to the videos. The first is a classic and involves a little girl unfortunately named Prudence. It’s called “Once Upon a Potty” you know, like the fairy tales, only this time the princess is learning to use the royal throne instead of pooping hither and yon. There is also a version for little princes, complete with instructions on the parts. For instance, the cartoon Prudence bends over to show us all her butt hole. It’s fascinating stuff, people. I couldn’t find a clip of it (youtube failed me!) so here’s a picture which is worth a thousand words of horror.
I remember showing this video to at least the first Thing and possibly the second and getting a look that said “Yeah, I’m not buying it.” But never fear, there are doodles, er, oodles more of these things to go!
You’ll be pleased to know that Elmo has a potty training video, thus combining one of the most irritating puppets ever and toilets into one giant bucket of video poop. Elmo is learning to use the potty with the help of his Dad – a bigger elmo with this creepy mustache. At least he SAYS he’s his dad. Anyway, there’s a rock and roll song about the potty. But it gets better.
Later in the program, the kids start shouting out the names they give to their various body emissions. “Poop!” “Pee!” “Urinate!” “Number Two!” etc. You just know the urinate kid has yuppie parents. My friend and I watched this with our kids when they were very young and fell over laughing hysterically. Keep in mind we had toddlers and preschoolers at the time, so we were out of our minds.
Here’s a clip with yet another piece of horror from Elmo’s Potty Time. Remember that song “Birds do it, bees do it, let’s fall in love?” Yeah, that one by Cole Porter that’s been used in movies, musicals, and sung by respectable artists even though it’s a rather annoying song. But just wait till Elmo gets a hold of it! You will never be able to hear it the same way again.
Finally, we have Bear in the Big Blue House. I don’t know if you remember Bear. I never really watched his show because I didn’t have whatever channel he was on at the time. But I rented this video from the library, just like I rented the others, because I was desperate. Changing diapers on a tiny baby is one thing. By the time said baby is a toddler, it’s gotten old. Very, very old. And smelly. You’ll do almost anything at this point.
Bear is a giant freaking bear that is sure to scare the crap out of children, so I figured he was a good bet. He has muppet pals, all of them designed by Jim Henson who brought us Miss Piggy and Kermit. I’m extremely thankful they didn’t lower their standards by appearing in this video.
In this video, Bear’s friend Mouse is potty training. I remember when I had mice in my old house, and boy do I wish Bear had been around then because cleaning up mouse poop is even worse than toddler poop because at least you can’t usually catch diseases from toddler poop. Although for all you potential parents out there, they can get worms. If anybody had told me this stuff before I had kids, I’m pretty sure I would have immediately joined the nearest convent.
But where was I? Oh, right, disturbing stuff. At one point in this video, there’s this bizarre shadow dance with this jungle beat and afro’d shadows bouncing on the wall like an LSD trip. It’s the Potty Soul Train. Check it out.
I quite remember my expression upon seeing this was something like this.
My child, of course, had long since started playing with blocks and ignoring the entire thing. I honestly thought Thing One would never potty train. But then she entered a preschool for kids with learning delays (for some reason they thought she should know how to use scissors at three. Who the hell gives their toddler scissors?) that also took kids who weren’t potty trained. My life was saved.
With Thing Two (I’m well aware how their names in this context are rather interesting), I tried training her for several months before two then gave up. At three, she decided she’d had enough fun screwing with Mommy and just started using it by herself. Like it was her idea all the time.
I’d suggest a cat. They train themselves.
When I first started reviewing 50 Shades of Awful and Twidud, I figured I’d get some angry fan spittle all over my blog. Even when I had only a handful of viewers, it wouldn’t have surprised me. There are some fans so dedicated they will seek out anybody, no matter how small, in order to protect their sacred cow (moooo). And yet – I never heard a peep. In fact, one person who was a fan of Shades still thought I was funny and reblogged my post. Go figure.
Then it happened. A troll. A real, live troll! On my blog! It was a wondrous day, you guyz. I had to read the comment a few times to make sure it was real. It was so much better than the spammers (this blog to read is educational to be coming back soon.) You’ll never guess what post irritated the reader. Not 50 Shades, not Twilight, not my occasional political ramblings, not the times I screwed up revered American holidays like Christmas and Easter and Thanksgiving. Nope.
It was Dragon Tales. It’s been a while since I’ve done a review of awful children’s T.V. I must get back to this, now that I’ve finished awful adult books. But the troll was angry! He or she told me “Dragon Tales is a good show! It’s for kids, not for 40-year-old fartheads like you!” Said troll had no blog, just an email address that went something like “dragontalesmaniacalfreakedoutfan.” Let me tell you, I was deeply saddened by this insult. For your information, troll, I am NOT forty, okay?
And that’s not all! There was another comment on another post, this one about how Clifford was either doin’ steroids or exposed to nuclear waste. It said, and I quote “Again, mean!” Mean? Me? I thought my blog was sweetness and light! Now I’m all disillusioned.
I thought this was the end of it, but I think this person has a whole fan club that is still tracking my blog. I keep getting hits because of it. Check out the most recent search words people used to find my blog. Just today: dragon tales (10), dragon tails (2), dragon tale (1), dragontales (1), and yesterday: dragon tales (11), dragon’s tale (3), dragon tale (1). And this has been going on for a while now. It might be my new top search word this year. It would help if this fan club could figure out how to spell Dragon Tales.
Far out, huh? This just goes to show you how bizarre the Internet can be. I suppose I should be thankful to these guys for giving my blog traffic. Therefore, I’ve decided to review it again. Here’s the original post for any of you who missed it. And a clip of the show, too. Guard your stomachs.
Upon reviewing the show again, dear troll, I have to say . . . it still sucks. Yeah. Pretty much. I mean, yes, it is for children and not adults. But adults are usually forced to watch this crap too. Unless they prefer to neglect their children like Max and Ruby’s parents. (Max and Ruby review coming up, Max and Ruby fans!) Besides, just because it’s for kids doesn’t mean it can’t have a little quality to it. For instance, I can watch Sesame Street without gagging as long as I turn it off before the Elmo comes on. But Dragon Tales makes the mistake of not only being annoying and stupid, but pretentious about it.
So sorry to spill your milk there (everyone makes mistakes, oh yes, they do) but I don’t like it. Sure the dragons teach the kids Spanish (Why are the dragons Spanish? Do they also have Russian dragons? Scottish ones?) but we already had Dora for that (Saltaaaaaaaaaa!) We didn’t need any more. I mean, Dora was shrieky and irritating, but at least she didn’t whine nearly as much as these so-called dragons. So, yeah, review stands. On the suck-o-meter, we have a ten. But please – do come back. I’ll leave the rug cleaner out for you.
Love and kisses,
I made it. Through nausea inducing, irritating, exploding headachy, nasty, awful crap I trudged. And that was before I contracted Pneumonia. But I did not give up! Not even when Hugo the bald, creepy puppet man used his voodoo spells to curse me with eternal bad hair (I do not blame Hugo. He was no match for 50 Shades.) No, reader, I charged onward through this crappy book all because of
your stats you. You’re welcome.
It is hard to truly put into words what reading this book is like. I still think the best comparison is the speed bump. Imagine that the entire world is one big school zone. You can only drive 20 mph, must watch out for stray children and SUV driving moms on cellphones and every few feet you hit a speed bump. BUMP. E.L. James’s writing is filled with these speed bumps on every single page, heck, in almost every paragraph. You can be reading the drippy, boring prose but you’re still putting along until BUMP you hit something that makes you either a) roll your eyes b) laugh out loud at the idiocy c) whack your head against something d) curse James or, most often, e) all of the above.
There are so many examples of this. Every time Ana is jealous of anything female, even, I swear to sweet white baby Jesus, Christian’s helicopter, which he calls a “she”. BUMP. Every time Ana refers to Christian as God’s gift to women. BUMP. Every time a male lusts after Ana or a female lusts after Christian and the other one gets pissed about it. BUMP. Every time one of those wonderful, repetitive lines is uttered – “hard, thin line” (bump), “fair point, well made” (bump), “pants hanging that way” (bump), “down there”(bump), “Oh, my”(bump), “Jeez”(bump), “Come, Ana”(bump), and the millions of murmurs, mutters, and sighs (bump, bump, BUMP). I think my absolute favorite one has to be when Christian refers to himself as the royal “we” as in “We aim to please, Miss Steele.” (bumpity bump bump) Next thing you know, he’ll just start referring to himself in the third person, like Elmo, which makes sense considering he already acts like a two-year-old. “Ana Mine! Ana Mine!”
And the heart stopping plots! Crazy Leila with a gun! Crazy rapey Jack! Crazy Mrs. Robinson! Crazy helicopter go boom-boom! Crazy will they or won’t they have sex in the next two pages cliffhangers! Crazy house shopping and driving around aimlessly! Crazy wedding proposals after descriptions of lusting after crack-whore mom look-a-likes! Crazy pages of absolutely nothing happening but talk talk talk leading nowhere! Such excitement I nearly wet myself!
And just when you think you can’t take anymore, there are the EMAILS! BUMP!
But oddly enough, the thing that really makes my mind reel, starting in book two, is the abrupt change in point of view for only a few paragraphs. Twice. Just WTF, James? You decided to write in first person. There are limitations to that, as in, you only know what the main character is thinking, which is even more limiting if that character is a gold-fish brained bitch like Ana. But still, you made your bed, so freaking lie in it. You don’t get to suddenly have it in third person from the point of view of four-year-old Christian because you want to – it doesn’t work that way. It’s confusing and stupid.
50 Shades Dumber opens with poor widdle Christian, crack-whore mommy, and a pimp from the movie “Pulp Fiction”. There’s no real reason for this, except I guess for you to feel sorry for Christian being used as an ash tray, but we already knew that, so why? I mean, there are other ways she could have conveyed the same scene without switching the point of view like that. But no, there it is, standing out like a big, freaking speed BUMP and the story has only just opened.
The second instance of this comes in the last page of 50 Shades Dumber. This time we’re thrust into third person so we can see Snidely sitting outside nefariously plotting the doom of Christian while smoking, rubbing his hands together, and cackling with glee. Of course it doesn’t say it’s Snidely, we’re just supposed to guess. Gee, who could possibly want to destroy Christi-poo and Ana-kins who could have been arrested but was just plopped in a cab instead? I can’t figure it OUT. HELP ME. This passage made me madder than the rest of the book combined because it’s just so wrong. I mean, you learn about this crap in freaking high school English here. Did James go to high school? How bad are British schools, cause I thought Americans kinda had the sorry school system market cornered. Just – arghhhhh.
Okay, better now. And I’m all ready for book three, which I have been warned is the worst one yet. I’ve read Speaker’s recaps, and all I can remember is a picture of a blue bunny on a waterski. I think that should be on the cover instead of the handcuffs, personally. It’s much more visually interesting. Maybe Goofy will release her memoirs soon, so we can read something that’s actually good. I hear she might consider it once she’s done with her stint on Bachelor Pad.
Since I’ve interviewed most of the stupid characters from the book with 50 Shades Dumber, I’ll have to try something else for book three. I’m thinking more bitchy reviews but this time with pictures harvested from Google images and my own nefarious mind on Paint. Possibly some multiple choice quizzes will be involved, because I love taking moronic quizzes like in Cosmo. I’ve also considered a “choose your own adventure” style, except that I’m pretty sure everyone would choose “they blow up all over the place” every time, and we wouldn’t get very far into the story. Unless they were to become zombies. Actually, that would kind of rock, except I’d feel sorry for the other zombies. I will have to think on this. Should you have any suggestions, feel free to add them in the comment section below.
Also, another thank you for all the well wishes and pleas to aliens and whatnot for my recovery from 50 Shades of Pneumonia. They were much appreciated. I love you all.
I just finished chapter 10 of Ana’s memoirs and I can safely report that nothing happened. When I say nothing, I mean nothing, absolutely fucking NOTHING.
Now who am I going to ask about nothing this time?
Christian: I will allow you to interview me, Miss Alice
Alice: I already did. Under duress.
Christian: Oh, but that was the old Christian you interviewed.
Alice: Christ. Please say you don’t have voices in your head now.
Christian: That’s Christ-ian. And no, I am new and improved, saved by the power of Ana’s vagin – er love.
Alice: Uh huh.
Christian: One moment, I’m getting a call. Great news . . . a poodle . . . swallowed the entire thing . . . how is that possible . . . I see . . . yes, tonight.
Alice: You realize that’s an Elmo phone, right?
Christian: This is the latest and most stylish phone on the market.
Alice: It’s a kid toy. See, I push a button and it says “Elmo is hungry!”
Christian: Nevermind that. As I was saying, I am a changed man. Now I make love to Ana, and don’t even smack her around while I’m doing it.
Alice: You’re a real prince.
Christian: Actually, I am, on my mother’s side. Did you know Taylor’s first name is Jason? I didn’t either until this chapter.
Alice: I honestly didn’t care.
Christian: Ana asked why I have no friends.
Alice: Because you’re a total jackass and people hate you?
Christian: You are making my hands twitch.
Alice: I have a real phone. It dials 9-1-1, see?
Christian: Very well. Ana and I went to dinner.
Alice: God this is fascinating.
Christian: She was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to relax without beating her up. And when I said I didn’t want to take her to my playroom she told me inner goddess stomped off pouting like an angry toddler.
Alice: I . . . what?
Leila: Oh, hi Alice. Hello, Christian.
Christian: Hello Le . . . hey, wait a minute, where’s my security team?
Leila: Eating donuts. Did you see my gun? It goes boom boom when I pull the trigger. Liiiike this . . .
Christian: Quick, Alice, get in front of me! I’m too important to die!
Alice: She’s holding a water gun.
Leila: Gotcha! Good job putting guards on the emergency stairwell, there. And changing the locks. Now I have to go make another key off this one I stole out of your jewelry box. Pooh. Buh-bye now.
Alice: Wait – you didn’t think to change the locks until now? Or guard the emergency stairwell?
Christian: That Leila is too damned sneaky!
Alice: Or your security team hates you.
Christian: Whew. Well, I told Ana she couldn’t go to work because it’s just too dangerous and then she got madfaced.
Alice: So it’s too dangerous for her to go to work, but not to go out to dinner, go car shopping, and go sailing.
Christian: I was there to protect her then. And my crack security team.
Alice: That’s reassuring.
Christian: I gave Ana a tour of the apartment.
Alice: She hasn’t seen the whole apartment by now? Oh, yeah, all you guys do is have sex, I forgot.
Christian: It’s making love now, Alice.
Alice: I may be ill.
Christian: We played pool in the library. And I stuck my cue in Ana’s inner pocket.
Alice: Hey, who’s that over there with the gun? Is that Leila?
Alice: And there he goes again. Go, Leila, go.