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Treasure Chest of Terrible Toys: Pretend and Play Office Space by Learning Resources

12 Jan

January 12, 2013

This is actually a classic repost but I decided to be sneaky and post it under a new banner. Unlike the furry Masters of the Universe figure or oddball Kojak action figures, this is one toy I feel passionately is not only bad but also dangerous. It is distributed by Learning Resources but as you will read it is very anti-learning.

You may have originally read this blog under the title Birth of The Office Drone but if not, welcome to the Treasure Chest of Terrible Toys!

TT Office Drone

from June 1, 2011

briefcase

Remember when kids played cowboys and Indians? Cops and robbers? Thundercats and Voltron? What kid ever wanted to play accountant? Are you raising your child to be a CPA by third grade? Give a kid this toy and you guarantee a fun afternoon of sitting alone at the kitchen table shuffling pretend TPS reports and refilling a crayon pen. Listen up people! Give your kid a ball and let him go outside. And if the weather is bad or your neighborhood is under siege by crack dealers and your child can’t go out, give him or her something better than this. If you want your kid to be Michael Scott when he grows up then give this office thing to him. I can’t prove it but I bet that the Son of Sam and Ted Bundy had this sort of toy when they were a kid.

But I do get that there may be a parent who works in an office and who carries a briefcase and their child may want one just like mommy’s or daddy’s. You know what would be fun for that kid? Making his own office toys! Why does every toy need to be bought in a store? This is especially true for little kids. Ask any parent what their kid’s favorite toy was and they will nearly all say “the box the toy came in.” Back before flat screen TV’s, an average living room set was a cube roughly the size of a Honda and weighed nearly as much. I had an old giant TV box that I turned into a fort. Did my Mom buy me a fort? No, I made it myself.

And that is what any kid can do. Let’s make an office set ourselves, shall we? First we need a briefcase. Maybe mom or dad has an old one. No? How about an old school bag? Or a shoebox- ask any kindergarten teacher, you can make anything out of a shoebox. The retail toy has a refillable crayon pen, so let’s put some real crayons and pens into the shoebox. It comes with a desk calendar, and luckily I have a few in a bottom drawer. They were giveaways from the local supermarket and Chinese restaurant. They are out of date but that doesn’t matter. This is pretend! Imagination! And speaking of pretend, the set comes with a pretend stapler but my child is responsible enough to use a real stapler without getting hurt so let’s put a small grade school stapler in the box too. And don’t forget lots of paper to staple and color. The set has a pre-printed ID badge but my child made herself the President of Lisa’s Zoo and it sure was fun decorating a piece of cardboard from an old box to make a personalized badge with animal stickers. And a piece of tape or a safety-pin puts it right on her shirt. Oh, did I mention that she made her own uniform too? I didn’t see that in the toy’s description.

Looking at the picture I see that the set comes with a pencil holder that is shaped like a can, so why don’t I wash out a can for her? I’ll be sure to check for sharp places around the rim. Now she can decorate it too. You know, looking around the house, I have lots of things that can go into the briefcase. I have pads and post-its, I have markers and construction paper, I have some old keys for her office and even a nice picture of the family to put on her desk. I see a pretend laptop in the picture but my child already has learning toys that look like a laptop, or I can even give her my laptop (you know, the one with the parental controls.)

The only thing the toy has that I don’t need to give my child is a cell phone. She’s too young; this would only encourage her to get the real thing. And the glasses? Why reinforce negative nerdy stereotypes?

And you know what else? Maybe I’ll take the $28 dollars I saved and take my daughter to the park this weekend.

I hope I made my point.

Smelly People I Have Known, Part Two: Marvin Ming

9 Jan

January 10, 2013

Marvin Ming is no stranger to this blog.

No! No, sorry, what I meant to say is that there are none stranger than Marvin Ming in this blog.

He shanghaied me on a bizarre trip to Atlantic City, and the rest of the Eastern Seaboard, with his family, none of whom got along with any other family member.

He more or less somehow pulled a Valentine’s Day prank on himself.

He pranked me with a phony phony ticket to a sci-fi convention. (No, that it is not a typo. It was a false counterfeit ticket.)

He brought me to a complete stranger’s birthday party where we were the only guests.

He worked as a general manager at a brothel.

He once, in a traffic dispute, drop-kicked a taxi.

He made his own XXX Gumby Claymation cartoons.

And I have only just scratched the surface of Marvin’s Brooklyn Public Library Underground Pornography Sharing scheme.

I’ve described him in the past:

Marvin was (and may still be) Chinese.  He also hated being Chinese because he had many very weird and bizarre family issues, mostly dealing with his mother. He also had a strange sense of honor and likened himself to a Klingon. This is true. Worf from Star Trek was his role model. He occasionally slept on a workout bench instead of his bed to remove himself from “temptation.” Being very leery of the answer I never asked him to explain further. Once, to pay off a debt, he brought his brother in to work for him in the clothing store. He just ordered his brother to do his work and for some reason the bosses let him get away with it for a while, until they realized that, insurance-wise, they were in a position of extreme liability.

Marvin had strange speech patterns and strange voices that he would put on. Imagine Ted Baxter as a short Chinese guy who is worried about appearing honorable and is in love with Star Trek and you’ll only be sort of wrong. He also speaks in a higher register.

Why must I be dragged into this?

Why must I be dragged into this?

As you may imagine, I have nothing to do with him these days.

So as you read yesterday, Audrey, whom I worked with, had a bit of a B.O. problem. I mean that in the same sense that Snoop Dogg (neé Lion) has smoked a bit of pot. About the same time, in the same department, I worked with Marvin Ming. This was quite an auspicious time in that store’s history, since also at that time, working along with myself and my friend Marc, there was a complete burnout named Eddie working there. Eddie will come along in part three of this trio of odoriferous tales, coming Tuesday, next week. The less I tell you now about him the better.

So Marvin was working the same job as Audrey- unloading trucks, cleaning bathrooms, hauling trash. The good thing about working with Audrey was that if you both worked the same shift, she had no problem doing all the smelly bathroom cleaning and trash lifting while you did the less smelly tasks of sweeping the floor and locking the gates.

I was once sitting in the break room. (Truth be told, I could often be found there during this era. Of course I made my own schedule and was my own boss so no one could say squat about it, but that was later on.) As I sat there, a group of girls who worked in the store came in looking for me.

I wasn’t the most well-liked guy in the store. I had, I admit, a bit of an attitude and just generally felt like I was better than the rest of them. To put it bluntly, I was a sort of a jerk. So normally these girls would not come in and ask me for anything, unless it was work-related. This had to be bad. And it was.

“We want you to talk to Marvin for us.”

Since this a post about smelly people you can figure this one out for yourself.

I refused. No way. How could I be expected to tell a guy who was marginally a friend that all the girls in the store think he smells like old tuna? (Yes, that was a quote.) What’s worse, and I asked for no details on this, it seemed that it was his… pants… and specifically his… crotch… that smelled the worst, though he stank all over.

Would you really want to tell anyone that?

Well somehow I did. I took him aside in the maintenance area and, with great embarrassment and shuffling of feet and completely avoiding eye contact, made it perfectly clear that I was only the messenger, that I had no clue what they were talking about, etc, and yada yada yada, he stank like old tuna.

It did not go over well.

He roared. Not screamed, roared, like a tiger would. Then he started yelling, not at me but at the world at large, that he showers every night, except last night, but it was ok since he rinsed himself in the sink that morning, and that he always changes his pants but it looks like he doesn’t because he owns a dozen pairs of the same colored pants and they all have the same stains, and his crotch does not stink any more or less than their crotches, and a bunch of stuff that had me slowly backing away from him and into a less deserted part of the store.

The rest of this I only saw in flashes as I kept looking away, and I only know remember it in bits and pieces as my mind keeps trying to erase it.

As he ranted, he yelled “I want to you tell them I did this!” and grabbed a can of Lysol. He then proceeded to give himself a thorough decontamination shower with the Lysol. His head, his shoes, and everything in-between was thoroughly drenched with Lysol. And I do mean “everything in-between” since he gave special attention to his pants and crotch, going so far as to drop his pants and, while standing in his boxers, give special, um “scrubbing” attention to his crotch, both above and below the underwear.  

This must be my blogging Viet Nam since as I type this I am having horrible, PTSD-like flashbacks to that day.

decon

Well it was done and I staggered out and found the girls and told them “I did it.” I then went outside for some fresh air,

Of course Marvin now smelled even worse, like he was swimming in lemon-scented disinfectant and smelled so much worse that the manager first asked him what he did to himself, and them sent him home. The girls came to me later to find out what the heck happened and they were appalled.

In Marv’s defense, I do not recall thinking he smelled at all. And I wondered then, as I do now, how they knew it centered on his crotch.

 

TO BE CONTINUED TUESDAY: EDDIE’S LUNCHBOX

And as I did some image searches, I came across this great meme that I had to post here too:

Bad-Luck-Brian-Meme-buys-lysol-disinfecting-wipes-killed-by-the-_1-percent-of-germs