Contact Page

Hey hey, kids! Ol' Uncle Kyle stopping by to tell you about the "Contact" page I just added. In it, you'll find my email address and my Tumblr. Sharing both of these with you is probably a hilariously stupid move, but hey, if you little rascals flood my inbox with dribble, it'll be worth it for the one little nugget with a good question.

More blogs in January; see you then.

Fat Terry

Gather around, children, gather around, and I shall regale your eager ears with a tale from my childhood. It’s a tale of tragedy, guilt, and barbeque. This, children, is the tale of Fat Terry.

I’m not going to lie to you folks: I was a really stupid kid. Really stupid. I’m talking so stupid, I could count my IQ points on my fingers, if I wasn’t too dumb to count.

 

Yup.

And nowhere was my idiocy more apparent than at the ripe age of four, where my most infamous lapse of judgment and display of childhood ignorance took place.

My family and I were having dinner at a restaurant called Fat Terry’s Rib Crib, which, if my foggy memory serves, had some of the best barbeque around. My stupid little self was seated in a booth, getting more of my ribs around my mouth rather than inside of it, generally having a good night out, if a typically ordinary one. At least, it was ordinary, until someone walked in – someone who I may have changed the life of forever. I never learned her name, and I don’t even remember her face, but I remember what I did to her.

For imagery purposes, just use this.

Before I continue, I need to elaborate on something. I was four years old at the time of this incident. And at four years old, the cartoon commercials bombarded me constantly with advertisements featuring colorful mascots and slogans. Everything had a funny little character dancing around trying to sell me something – Ronald McDonald, Tony the Tiger, Chuck E. Cheese, all those guys.

And of course, Cool Spot, America's sweetheart.

So when a noticeably overweight woman walked into Fat Terry’s Rib Crib, it was like the Michelin Man coming into an AutoZone – or, to my four year-old eyes, Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. My little eyes shined as I gazed upon this woman – to me, she was the one responsible for the delicious ribs I had smeared across my face.

What I did next is unforgiveable, I know. It had absolutely no malice in it whatsoever, please understand – it was a burst of uncontrollable excitement, of genuine admiration – but to her, it came across as the brutal honesty and horrible cruelty of a child. She could have had body image issues. This could’ve been the one night out where she made herself feel beautiful. Her family could’ve spent the evening before she left consoling her, telling her how pretty she was, and how everyone loves her. No matter what the case, I shattered every sense of contentment and comfort she had when I got up – literally stood up in the booth, standing tall – and pointed at her, garnering the attention of the entire restaurant, and in a single second shouted the most hurtful words that have ever escaped my lips:

"HEY LOOK, EVERYBODY! IT'S FAT TERRY!"

"F  k you, fat people!" - Me

The restaurant exploded in a fit of guilty, oh-so guilty laughter. They knew it was wrong. They knew it was cruel and hurtful. But the delivery of my outburst, my childhood innocence shining through a genuine belief that Fat Terry herself had entered the building, was simply too funny to not laugh at. My family ducked their heads in shame, trying to avoid the gaze of the other restaurant patrons, judging their parenting abilities by my outburst. They quickly paid their bill and we left in the middle of the meal. And as for “Fat Terry” herself?

She ran out of the restaurant crying. We never got a chance to apologize, or to explain ourselves to her. She escaped.

So, “Fat Terry”, I know you’ll never read this. But in the unlikely event you do, please know: I am so, so, so sorry. I was a stupid kid, very stupid, and understand: I didn’t do it to be mean. I really thought I was meeting a mascot. But I guess that’s really not enough to make up for the years of therapy I fear you had to endure. Seriously, every day I wonder how much my outburst affected your life, “Fat Terry”. And every day, I pray that one day, I do get to meet you, somehow, and apologize.

And maybe once I resolve this horrible memory with you, Fat Terry’s Rib Crib could maybe lift the lifetime ban they put on my family. Maybe.  

Oh yeah, this place is a thing.

I appear to have stumbled upon a cemetery.

For a long time, I kind of threw this little hidey-hole of mine off to the side on the lame excuse that I had nothing to write about.

Well, no more. I'm planning to kick off the new year by bringing back the blog. So to the approximately...hm, let me get a head count here...to the approximately zero people stalking this right now, your prayers have been answered.

2012 will be the Year of Broken Whimsy. It'll also be the year that the world ends, but trust me, that's purely coincidental.

It's go-time.

Look Ma, I'm On the Internet! Whee!

I do not consider myself a person worth writing about. You won't see me in a melodramatic biopic that steals the hearts of millions in the theatres. You won't see me as the subject of a best-selling book written by not just one, but several committees of intelligent authors and researchers.
But you will see me here, on the Internet, where everyone is a superstar. You can post a song on Youtube that makes millions on iTunes. You can make a webcomic that becomes your full-time career. You can make a sketch video that gets you into theatrical film. Anything is possible.

Before I start sounding too pretentious and preachy, let me say that this wasn't my idea. It was the idea of one of the many, many, many wonderful people I have met in my life that are a thousand times more interesting than myself. She told me I should start a blog. And I, being the spineless tool I am, complied.

I'll post here periodically, maybe every other day, or weekly, I don't know. It depends on how many things worth writing about occur to me. Whatever the case, it is my extremely biased suggestion that you stick around. I'm about to make the magic happen, but I'm no magician. Whatever happens next all depends on whether or not the words I manage to string together can pull off the trick. Hopefully, the trick is worth checking out.

Welcome to the land of Broken Whimsy.

-- January 19, 2012: So readers may be wondering why there is a five month gap between activity. Well, truth is, I -did- publish some articles. However, I believe that they were particularly mediocre, and looking back, I'm really not satisfied with their quality. Therefore, they've been taken off the site and stored away in case I ever feel like sharing the shame of my past. Coincidentally, they were both movie reviews, so they wouldn't really hold much relevance, anyway. Only one article - "Glimpse" - survived the pruning, and was republished as to avoid having some lonely little article floating about mid-2011. Well, there's this post right here, but look at this blurb! 2012 ain't leavin' it behind! It's cool!