Garbage Pail Kids/Wacky Packages.

People do nice things for me.  People hold the door when my hands are full, others will let me go ahead of them in the supermarket checkout line when I have less items than they do.  In the most extreme cases, people will give me gifts, trinkets and souvenirs.  And in that event, I simply cannot tuck such a thing into my back pocket and be on my way.  The least I can do is to quickly photograph the treasure, unemotionally trample through three or four paragraphs and call it a day.  Then, and only then, can I close another chapter in my Book of Life.  Or something.

Our good friend, Shasta, who knows quite well our love for all things gross and pun-filled, gave up what I consider to be an incredible duo of stickers.  It takes a lot of heart to pass up on "Wacky Packages," especially if you like Dunkin' Donuts as much as me.  I would never give these away.  Not even to myself.

I really do love Dunkin' Donuts to death.  Say what you will about the coffee, go off about the service and lack of anything remotely decent for your body, whatever.  It's all rubbish compared to...I dunno.  The feel of the place.  The memories.  I love the odd pink/orange color pattern, I love how the logo is still fierce and untouched after all these years and I love how Dunkin' Donuts has prevented me from ever spelling "doughnut" correctly.

So, ya know how they work.  Stickers, decals, whatever of a popular consumer brand so viciously trashed by goofy spoofing.  It's kind of the stupidest/greatest thing ever.

Can you spot the Misfits doughnut?  And the Joey Ramone apple fritter?  He may or may not be an apple fritter, I just didn't want to write the correct spelling of "doughnut" twice.  Or was it three?  It's hurting my head.

Ahh, yes.  "Dumpin' Donuts." "America Gets the Runs From Dumpin."

:)

So, we're done with this?  We're done with this.

Now, for the past week or so I've been digging up and cleaning out the complete mess of toys, comics and eight-thousand GI Joe weapons I've been hoarding in the corner of my room.  Hell, the corner in every room.  As an adult, there comes a time in one's life where you don't wanna live in what looks and feels like a trash heap.  It's not THAT bad, I know, but out come the plastic bins and in go the memories.  It's a half-hearted attempt to free up a lot of space and hopefully get rid of the clutter.  Don't panic, I ain't getting rid of the good stuff:

What will I do with the rest?  I dunno.  What exactly is all the rest?  I'm gonna have to save it for it's own post, sorry, but picture a Kay Bee Toys store directly after a fire, then cleared out and swept up into multiple stacks.  Then shoved under my bed and onto computer desks.  Essentially, it's nonsense.  Broken stuff, unopened stuff, stuff I was barely able to part with, all collected into a pretty hefty case.  WITH SPILLAGE, no less. Now, what to do with it? I can't imagine spending the time on eBay selling plastic lobsters and broken robots, while donating it would be an instant, one-way ticket into the arms of Jesus.  So many options, so many ideas!  I'll save it for next week, so stay tuned.  I can't tell you everything just yet.

Buuuut what I can tell you is that rummaging through my past has dug up a lot of stuff I haven't seen in years.  Some good, some bad, some semi-related to the post at hand.  That being said: 
Garbage Pail Kids memorabilia.

I got this a few years ago, during the welcome boom of retro 80's shit.  We all have the cards, we've all seen the movie, I'm running out of steam here.

Appropriately, I have "Art A Part/Busted Bob." Busted Bob is a little dude who, really, just disintegrates into a mess of baby body parts.  It's a great gag with not a whole lot of setup, a great gift for those looking for a quick...I dunno, thrill?  Are you thrilled over this?  YOU'RE SICK.

I kinda wish I had "Electric Bill/Fryin' Brian."  Nothing wins first place for best conversation piece like a toddler being electrocuted.  Oh, they're key chains?  Why, take the party with you wherever you go!

He works.  He dangles like a pro, nonchalantly lives a life of pain and torment like a champ.

In other news: is that image above, like, really weird looking or what?  It wasn't intended or planned out, and only did I notice it while uploading these photos.  He's alone, desperate and...cheerful.  Altogether a very sinister moment.  It's like I'm looking at a still from a French art film.  Starring Justin Guarini.

Did I just reference runner up, Justin Guarini, from season one of American Idol?

Yes, I did.

I really did.