Tag Archives: fun

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 15

This isn’t a real calendar, it’s an Advent calendar-inspired action adventure where YOU’RE the hero. I know, I know, sounds similar to the last Indiana Jones, but trust me, it’s much different. Get caught up!

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3              December 11
December 4              December 12
December 5              December 13
December 6              December 14
December 7
December 8

After your little trick at the magic show, you’re transported to… another goddamn office? This adventure is getting boring. Too bad this isn’t a video game instead, eh? Is print dead? That’s more of a post-Christmas debate, let’s get back to it.

At least this time you’re behind the desk and not… in front of the desk? And this office looks pretty swank. You’ve never been interested in interior design before but this space is inspiring some creative thoughts about sofas and shelves. An idea for computer monitor sunglasses strikes like lightning in your brain before you’re interrupted by the person sitting opposite you.


The desk

It’s a woman in tears. Not knowing what to do because you have no idea where you are, you say what your mom would always say when you’d tell her about that recurring dream where you’re a reverse firefighter (extinguishing oceans with fire) stationed in beautiful San Francisco, California.

“Go on.”

The lady looks up. Her makeup is running down her face making her look like Alice Cooper after he found out there aren’t any Hardee’s restaurants in Canada during the Northern Nitwit Tour, ’88.

“I asked him again, ‘are you sure I have to do this?’ and he told me, straight-faced, ‘you do want to be one of J.D. Powers’ Associates, don’t you?’. So I did it because who doesn’t want to be one of the Associates? I rolled up my sleeves, stuck my head into the toilet and tried to find the bone. That was only the first task.”

She’s clearly embarrassed about what she just admitted to you. You’d always heard weird things about J.D. Power and Associates but never anything firsthand. Sounds like she’s got some pretty juicy info and it’s been awhile since you’ve heard some good gossip. You still don’t know what the fuck is going but before getting her to elaborate, she continues, “So I still work there but I think I need something to get my through the tough days. Like next Monday, J.D. wants us all to bring in a childhood memento for him to destroy. Can you prescribe me something so that I don’t totally lose my mind?”

Based on this modern office and the woman’s out-pour of emotions, you think you’re a therapist of some sort. You’re pretty interested in more J.D. Power stories so you quickly root through a desk drawer to find something to give her so she’ll spill more beans. You find this:


Before winging the pill bottle over to the lady, you take a peak to make sure you’re not giving her something serious like eye melters, and notice that the expiry day on the bottle is December 15. The date gate already?

“FUCK,” you say out loud.

“I’m sorry?” responds the lady with a look of genuine fear in her eyes.

“Sorry, I’d love to hear more about J.D. Power, I truly would. But it looks like this shrink has gotta grow.”

You’re surprised at how good that last line was and pop one of the Aderalls, making you disappear and sending you to some other fuckin’ place. This was a short phase but I think we all needed it because that magician thing was kinda long. See you tomorrow!

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 14

Put down that soldering iron, you don’t need a time machine to get caught up on what’s going on. Here they are, draped in a beautiful shade of “link blue”:

December 1               December 9
December 2              December 10
December 3              December 11
December 4              December 12
December 5              December 13
December 6
December 7
December 8

There’s a very bright light shining into your face so it’s tough to tell where you are but it smells like cigars covered in cheese and sounds like a group of people having a high five party. Once your eyes start to adjust you figure you’re on some sort of stage in front of a clapping live audience somewhere in… Turkey? You quickly dismiss that possibility because you’ve never been to Turkey and can’t confirm that it smells like cigars and cheese, and because every place you’ve visited on this journey has had a unique odour so this is nothing new. A voice booms over the loudspeakers, startling you.

“Give it up for our volunteer!”

The crowd goes nuts and you turn around and see a man in a tuxedo and large top hat, brandishing a wireless mic.


The Amazing Scott Incredible

Next to him is a small table with three replicas of the top hat he’s wearing. Okay, you get it — the three rabbits you found after scratching the Leafs ticket has brought you to a magic show. Either that or you’ve finally made it to that famous haberdashery your youth basketball coach told you about where it’s as much about the experience as it is the hats.

As you stand all dopey-eyed, taking all this in, the magician grabs your arm more forcefully than you think necessary and leads you to the table with the hats.

“Our volunteer’s job is simple,” the magician begins as his assistant (a man who looks exactly the same as the magician except for his coveralls) passes him a pretty ugly white rabbit that you will later name “Jordy”. He turns toward you and continues, “all you must do is select the hat that the rabbit is under. If you are correct I will personally give you my entire fortune plus the secrets of the universe including one about how fire can be used to clean the tub. Of course, no one has ever been correct!”

Jordy in 2011

Jordy in 2011

The crowd goes nuts and you’re already bored of this. You’re pretty sure you saw your uncle perform this trick at his birthday party, only he used little goats.

The magician places the rabbit under the middle hat then begins shuffling the them like in three-card monte. Rather than humour the guy and pay close attention to his shuffling, you turn your back to the table and sit down on the stage.

“Looks like our volunteer is more confident than that outfit would have us believe!” jokes the magician.

You look down on your white cotton outfit and red canvas shoes and see that the once-pristine ensemble has attracted several strange stains and a few choice rips since this adventure started.

“Okay, time to choose. Which hat do you believe the rabbit is under?”

You stand up, grab the mic out of the magician’s hand and pretend to study each hat. You have some fun with the crowd and smell each one, which is tough because the stench of cheddar cigars is growing strong. You glance over to the magician and he looks pretty pissed.

“Well it’s definitely not this one,” you say as you remove the middle hat. Underneath is a basket of Christmas oranges. The magician snatches the mic back and gives a little twirl.

“You are correct! Feel free to take those home to your malnourished children,” responds the magician harshly. You don’t have kids but the crowd doesn’t know that. What the fuck? You decide to move things along.

“If it’s this one I’ll eat my own hair,” you point to the hat on the left and the crowd laughs uproariously. They’re back on your side. You choose the left hat and sure enough, a heap of Christmas holly lies underneath.

“Oh my, there’s only one left so it simply must be the rabbit. I might finally have to give away my vast fortune and wealth of secrets. I guess you won’t need to eat this holly for Christmas dinner as you’ll be able to afford a real bird for once!” the magician says with a flourish of his hands.

Rather than let this guy keep telling you what to do, you ignore his insult and lift the hat on the right before he can prompt you. Underneath is this old newspaper clipping:

December 14, 1978, Sumter Daily Item - AP, page 16-A, Layton Accused In Jonestown Shootings,

You grab the clipping and completely tune out everything else around you. You make out the words “idiot” dand “baby licker” from the magician but whatever, you think you’ve found a way out of here. The clipping’s date is December 14 so you’ll just have to find a way to activate it. You’re momentarily distracted by the crowd gasping. You look over to see the magician removing his own hat and just like your uncle taking off his pants to reveal a half-dead goat, the rabbit is underneath.

“Sorry, you lose, the rabbit was under this hat. Classic trick. Sorry, you do not get my fortune and you must now leave the show. Give it up for our volunteer!”

You try to put aside your embarrassment and get this date gate activated before the assistant comes to drag you off the stage. You try rubbing the clipping, kissing it, scratching it and still, nothing. The whole crowd is laughing at you. Then, you get an idea. You walk over to the magician and snatch the mic out of his hand.

“Here’s some real fuckin’ magic,” you say, holding up the newspaper clipping. You start rambling off as many magic words as you can think of. “Abra Cadabroo, mooby doo, screeny deem and wonder stew, magic words and boffy meer, get me the fuck out of here.”

The newspaper article vanishes in a poof of smoke and left in your hand is a shitty rolodex. Geez, some treat. Your disappointment quickly fades as you yourself fade from the stage and into the next world. Before you’re fully gone you see the magician barfing on the stage. Seems you spooked him. The next time you attend a magic show is many years in the future when magic is real and very scary.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 9

It’s Kirk Douglas’ birthday today! Celebrate 98 years of Hollywood mastery by eating Kirk’s favourite, roasted stones, or by getting caught up on the Advent adventure with these previous posts:

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7
December 8

In the blink of a guy with a winky blinky eye you find yourself riding a motorcycle with reindeer antler handlebars, cruising down a lonely, sunny, desert highway. There isn’t any music playing but if you really think it’ll complete the scene, let’s pretend you’re listening to this:

You’re happy that you’re finally out of the North Pole but kind of disappointed that you only got to hang with Blitzen for a couple of minutes. He’s been the loosest dude you’ve met on this journey and you could totally imagine sharing a kebab with him.

Then, as if the universe senses your feelings, your motorcycle’s horn honks twice by itself and you smile to yourself knowing that you’re probably still riding atop your new pal, his blood now gas, his hooves rubber tires and his exhaust pipe-sharped penis now an exhaust pipe.


This is sort of what you’re riding on

You hope that this leg of the journey will last longer than the others because the vibration of the motorcycle is giving your privates a much-needed wake up call but your hopes are dashed when you spot this gas station up ahead:


Part of you wants to drive the into the side of the building just to see what happens but if the movie Groundhog Day has taught you anything it’s that when you’re part of an unexplained event that bends space and time, forget about suicide, you’d best find Andie MacDowell and seduce the fuck out of her. If the soundtrack to the movie Groundhog Day has taught you anything it’s that when you’re having a party and you forget to program a playlist, do not hastily throw one together and lead it off with the Groundhog Day soundtrack.

Anyway, since meeting Gary Oldman was the closest you came to finding Andie MacDowell you try to rid your mind of all things Groundhog Day and decide to play it safe and pull into the station where your next portal awaits.

Stopped at the pump you check your gas level and see that it reads “E”, making you to remember how your dad once tricked you into believing that it stands for “EAT” and that gasoline was originally called “lunch juice”. You grab the nozzle and begin filling the tank, bracing yourself for another cosmic transportation. And what do you know? It worked. You disappear. You’re done with this part. Onto the next. The adventure continues tomorrow. Where will you read it? What is your name? Just kidding, I don’t care. See you!

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 8

This story already doesn’t make much sense, so don’t make it any harder on yourself by starting in the middle.

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6
December 7

You magically appear in a dark stable in a pile of dark hay. Okay, maybe the hay is regular hay or maybe it’s all just dried out black licorice your call!

After that whole Santa ordeal you’re beginning to think that maybe you’ve been whisked away to the Manger where Jesus was plopped out and that you’re now going to have to wrestle Joseph or some shit. You look out a small window cut into the wooden boards that make up the stable’s wall and instead of seeing Three Wise Men pissing equations into the snow, you see this:

web site north pole

Either you’re back at that pervy barber shop or still in the clutches of the North Pole. You let out a frustated, “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrfffff” sound then exit the pen that you materialized into and go looking around the stable.

In the darkness you can make out some large creatures in the stalls opposite yours and unless you’re being fucked with, they most be Santa’s famous reindeer. The bad news is you’re still on Santa’s turf, but the good news is that Phandor must have meant reindeer when he mentioned “ice rats”.

You immediately feel the urge to choke each ice rat to death as revenge for all the crap Santa and Phandor have put you through and without realizing it you’re already in a pen marked “Blitzen”, ready to squeeze the magic (and life) right out of him.

You stop in your tracks when you notice a brand in Blitzen’s humongous hind quarters:

Caribou1_full copy

Sorry, it’s hard to find a large scale pic of a reindeer’s ass

Your way out of this stable is somewhere behind that brand and since you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to stick your arm up something’s butt at some point during this adventure, you don’t hesitate.

At the point of entry, the reindeer makes a sound EXACTLY like this:

“What the dizz, mate?” comes a voice that sounds like Mel Gibson, pre-American accent.

“Sorry, I figured the portal was in your ass,” you respond, hoping that you’re correct in assuming the voice came from the reindeer and not some guy standing behind you who will make fun of you for thinking a reindeer was talking to you.

“No mate, that’s loony. You won’t have to reach into anything’s bum, trust me. Now get on my back and we’ll get this over with,” Blitzen explains calmly.

“So embarassed,” you mutter as you lumber onto the big creature’s back.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t hold on tight because I’ve got sensitive antlers but it’s something I have to say for legal reasons,” says Blitzen as he trots out of the stable and into the night.

“What legal reasons? What the fuck is this? You’re a reindeer and I’m in some living Advent calendar!” The frustration is evident in your tone but Blitzen ignores you and begins to fly into the night. You only get to enjoy it for a few seconds before you disappear.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 7

Stumble onto this post after googling “free online Advent calendar” because you feel physical Advent calendars aren’t fair to people like you who are scared of chocolate? Get caught up!

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5
December 6

Though it has occurred to you that it all might be a dream, you’ve never truly considered this adventure to be anything but real. Has it completely defied all logic and science? Yes. Has it smelled really weird? Yes. Are you crazy? Depends on who YOU are, but for the purposes of this story let’s just assume that all of you readers are sane, beautiful, and appreciative of the effort I’ve put into keeping you, the hero, gender neutral so that anyone can come along for the ride.

No matter what’s actually been happening to you, you’re positive you’re dreaming now because you see yourself back in your elementary school’s hallway wearing nothing but a t-shirt while the other kids are fully clothed. You look around in horror as you realize that no pants day is actually tomorrow and that all day kids are going to be looking at your half naked, underdeveloped body thinking “that idiot thought today is no pants day”. It’s a dream you’ve had hundreds of times before and the familiarity of it makes you hope that you’re going to wake up at home on your pile of towels.

When a bully walks by your locker and says, “check the calendar, piss mud!” you’re snapped out of the dream and open your eyes only to find darkness. You give a quick wiggle and the bed you’re lying in feels more like a real bed than the towels so no matter where you are right now, you’re definitely not home. You wonder why it’s so dark then feel that you’re wearing a sleep mask. As your eyes start to adjust you notice there’s something written on the inside of the mask or else you were crying and your tears look like letters. You make a mental note to try that next time you get dumped and want to write your ex a letter with impact, then utter a quick prayer, something like “hey boss, please don’t let this next part be weird”. You slowly peel the sleep mask from your face so you can see what’s printed on it and though you’re pretty sure what’s it going to say, you still hope it’ll be something cute like “Goodnight sleepy head!”. But no, your suspicious are confirmed:

blue2 copy

You’re sort of relieved that whoever or whatever is fucking with you on this adventure at least allowed you got a snooze in before moving onto whatever bullshit is coming up next. The relief is short-lived though, because when you lower the mask from your view, the lights in the small, simple room you’re in suddenly illuminate to reveal Phandor standing at the foot of your bed.

Elf with a Gun 2
“Nighty night, don’t let the ice rats bite,” Phandor says before pulling the trigger of the revolver he’s carrying.

You see the flash of the gun then you’re once again flushed down the toilet of time and space, onto the next stop of this CrAzY trip.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 6

You wouldn’t start a book halfway through unless a rich guy payed you to, so before reading this ensure you’re caught up unless a rich guy is paying you to read this one in particular. 

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4
December 5

You’re working the line in a bustling toy factory surrounded by typical Christmas elves. You glimpse up from the conveyor belt and who should be standing in front you but Santa, that motherfucker from yesterday who wouldn’t tell you shit about what’s been going on.

“You’ve been naughty and you’ve been nice but you haven’t worked hard,” Santa muses with a scowl.

You reflect on the past year and realize that yes, you haven’t worked very hard, but working hard also requires rest and since you haven’t got around to replacing the pile of towels with an actual bed in your apartment, hard work simply wasn’t practical this year.

“You can’t force me to work here, can you?” you ask, genuinely interested in what the answer might be.

“I cannot force anyone to do anything, but Phandor can,” says Santa, punctuated with a childish laugh that doesn’t sound anything like the deep grumbles of every other Santa you’ve ever met.

You suddenly feel a sharp poke on your back and naturally turn to find out where it came from. Standing before you is a mean looking little son of a bitch carrying a comically large thumbtack. In the future, when you sell your fantastical tale to the folks at Dark Horse Comics for a cool 1.2 million, you assist an artist in drawing him like so:


“Do your work you fuckin’ jerk,” squeaks the elf man.

“I take it you’re Phandor?” you ask, dwelling on the last syllable while straining to think of something that rhymes with Phandor to show him you’re willing to “play the game”.

“Little boys who don’t make toys will feel the pain when Phandor puts leeches in their brains,” warns Phandor, while licking his lips and making eyes toward his thumbtack.

“I’ve taken dumps bigger than you, speaking of which, where can I poo?” you sing sweetly, hoping Phandor will appreciate the rhyme AND direct you to the washroom.

“If your mind is filled with doubt, look to your left for an easy way out,”   Phandor divulges, followed by a maniacal laugh. He then holds the thumbtack over his head, utters some nonsense under his breath and disappears.

Not knowing what to do next, you look back to the production line and amongst the cat toys on the conveyor belt moving toward you is a button that looks like this:


Finally, a way out of here. You’re unsure about the connection between the North Pole and a positive stance on women’s issues, but you’re totally fine to move this adventure along so you shrug it off and examine the button closely. You start to peel back the button’s facade and underneath is another image that looks like this:


Phandor you little fucker! You give the new button the finger and once again, you’re whisked away, hopefully as far away from Santa’s shitty fuckin… slave hive or whatever as possible.


Advent Calendar 2014 — December 5

I once tried to watch Cheers in its entirety, backwards. It sucked shit, so read this adventure the way it was meant to be read and start at the beginning:

December 1
December 2
December 3
December 4

You find yourself in a cozy, ornate living room of some sort, still clutching the red lollipop you got from the horny barber. Even though it tastes sweet you still think it would be funny to try to stick it onto the ceiling of this stupid place that you’ll probably just disappear from in a few minutes anyway. Before throwing it, you’re wondering why you’re here and not a candy factory but the deep leather couch you’re sitting on feels good under your rear. You’re pretty sure you were sitting on a wig in that barbershop and though it was very uncomfortable, you’re pleased that you were able to detect a wig using nothing but butt.


Just as you’re winding up to throw the lollipop, who should waddle in but SANTA CLAUS! He could be a fake but since you’re on a magical adventure through December you figure he’s the real deal.

“Ho ho ho, man. You’ve finally arrived. Are you comfortable?” The fat sorcerer asks.

“Yes sir, quite. What is this? I know I’m not dead because I still have zits but something’s fucked. You know that. I know that,” you say with the confidence of a golf pro.

“There have been many like you and there will be many more. Once the journey has ended all questions will be answered, ho ho ho merry Christmas, but until then you should follow your heart as you have up until now,” Santa says right as you notice he’s wearing some pretty cool red jeans.

“This is about Advent, isn’t it?”

Santa nods.

“That’s a Jesus thing, you rosy-cheeked fuck!” you scream, making sure to spit so that Santa knows you’re not scared.

“All will be answered soon my son. Relax, we’ll bring you some gingerbread alfredo pasta and you can rest. You are weary from your journey,” Santa replies calmly while wiping your spit off his beard with a hanky he pulled out of that same beard.

You always figured that if you met Santa you’d talk about the season’s hottest toys but this guy keeps blowing smoke up your ass. Before telling him to “fuck a tree”, your eyes are drawn to the Christmas tree you’re about to ask him to fuck, and dangling from one of its branches beside a strange ornament of a guy kicking a girl, you see this:


“Hey Santa, tell Mrs. Claus she should get a job,” you chirp as you take a couple strides toward the tree.

“Anger will get you nowhere,” asserts Santa, making no move to stop you but moving slowly down toward his boot where you see the handle of a knife protruding from.

Once you’re close you see that the guy kicking the girl ornament is actually a guy dancing with a girl but it’s very poorly crafted and someone with better vision would assume the same as you did so you don’t feel all that dumb. Anyway, you grab the ornament and smash it on the ground. Inside is this shitty cat toy:


“Silent night, holy shit, all is fucked, isn’t it?” you freestyle sing before grabbing the toy and disappearing.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 4

New to the adventure? Get caught up to avoid saying “what the fuck is this?” to yourself!

December 1
December 2
December 3

In a flash you materialize into a seat inside a classic barbershop, caped up and ready for a trim. Get it? The hair from that old man’s hat was the clue. It was either going to be a barbershop or a laser hair removal clinic but since I’ve never been to the latter because my hair is removing itself, I went with what I know. Enough about me, let’s get back to you. A short man with grey hair comes up behind you.

“How you want cut?” he asks.

“I’ll take the usual,” you reply.

You used to do this trick when you wanted to impress a date at a restaurant. You’d ask the waiter for “the usual” despite not being a regular, tricking your date into believing you’re hip to a scene and that you live life without menus. It’s a risky movie but you figure a pro barber (unlike a unlicensed waiter) would have a client elaborate on such a request especially when you’ve never actually been to this place before, only the barber starts clipping away without a moment’s hesitation and your signature look that your stylist from the real world calls “The Leftovers” begins to disappear.



Unlike the other stops on your strange trip, you don’t seem to be in any imminent danger here in the barbershop unless this guy starts combing your eyes or something. This gives you a chance to reflect on what you’ve been through so far, hopefully leading to a way out. Here are the facts:

– Every portal has been sealed by a gate emblazoned with a day in December
– Each new stop on the trip doesn’t smell the way you figured it would (the barbershop smells like banana rum instead of your old man’s ties like you figured)
– Your favourite part of the journey so far has been the steamy sex in the longboat you had with a Viking Lord, which we couldn’t divulge in previous posts because it’s way too gross.

You snap out of it and stare into the mirror to see how the barber is doing. You like what he’s done with the sides but are a little unsure about the way he’s clipping your upper wave. Oh well.

The barber wraps up and you’re wondering what to do next because you don’t have any money and last time you didn’t pay a barber the guy made you give a haircut to his dying grandpa using nothing but a butter knife and your lucky shark’s tooth. You realize you haven’t had to poo, pee or puke since this whole thing started so you ask the barber where the washroom is. Instinct is telling you there’s a portal in there and you shudder at the thought of climbing into a toilet for the third time this year. The barber ignores you and says, “You getta me a present?”

“Ha, um, yeah I think I might take a dump, definitely,” you say.

“No no, not poota, mina birthday isa today, you getta me a present?” he replies with the hopeful, pathetic stare of a polecat whose trainer won’t let it have any peanut butter until it performs a simple spin.

“What day is it today?” you ask, hoping to hear anything but December 4 so you won’t have to kill this guy or slice him open or whatever.

“Issa Dicembre four, a quattro, you givea me a kiss,” the barber demands as he  puckers his lips that look like dried worms.


Hugh Hefner’s upper lip, shed 1999

The portal! Without thinking about it, you give the barber the kind of smooch you might administer to your child’s teacher after they tell you your kid won “most rad student”. The barber pulls away with his eyes closed in ecstasy. He mumbles something about wine then procures a red lollipop from his wallet. While the wallet is open you notice there aren’t any bills, only a few leaves of romaine lettuce and vow to remember to replicate it once you get back home. You unwrap the sweet, give the barber a wink, lick the pop as lustfully as possible (you’re never going to see the guy again, who cares?) and disappear. You hope your next stop has a bathroom.

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 3

Get caught up on the adventure with previous treats:
December 1
December 2

If you don’t get caught up you’re stupid but hey, I don’t run your life, your WALLET does. 

After stepping through the fridge and into the walk-in freezer on the other side of the portal you take a look back and the fridge has disappeared. In its place is a regular wall with a dartboard that someone stuck a picture of Bobby Flay to.


You immediately encounter Chef Morris, the man whom you saw through the portal. He doesn’t seem to notice you until you clear your throat, which you didn’t actually need to do because unobstructed throats run in your family along with really fragrant ears.

“Do we have any rabbits?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, I’m new here,” you reply.

Seems like you’re getting comfortable on this adventure! You smile to yourself when reflecting how up until this point your journey has combined elements of your favourite movie, Stay Tuned, and your least favourite TV show, Quantum Leap, with a dash of Sliders, which you never got into because the neighbour boy who owned a skateboard that said “BUTT DOG” on it, once called it “gay”.

“Go to table four and tell them that we’d be happy to cook them some lard as we are out of rabbit, then go out back and make sure no rats are licking the ice,” Morris demands.

You exit the walk-in freezer and enter the kitchen. Line cooks are busy cooking up what smells like bacon and eggs but the dominant scent is definitely nutmeg. Puzzled but not undeterred, you make your way to the dining room.


The restaurant’s east end. It’s not the real restaurant from the adventure, we couldn’t find it again.

It’s a small yet cozy restaurant whose patrons appear to be a mix of the elderly and the East Asian. You’ve never been good at telling apart East Asian ethnicities which you attribute to a lack of research and a racist babysitter you once had who ended up shaping your life more than you would’ve hoped. She’s also the reason you’ve never tried a Filet O’Fish. Anyway, you gotta find table four.

Unfortunately the tables aren’t labelled, but you smile when you realize that “table” and “label” rhyme and that you’ll definitely keep that in mind in case you rap battle another mom next Easter.

You’re about to give up and go outside to the futuristic looking city you see out of the restaurant’s window, but something else catches your attention. One of the old men is wearing a hat that looks like this:


You can’t think of any sports teams or vacation resorts called “December 3” and decide this must be your ticket outta here. You approach the table with your hands on your knees, just as your high school home economics teacher taught during the restaurant unit before the school found out he was actually an Australian comedian shooting a prank show.

“Pardon me, the chef is sorry to inform you that we are out of rabbit but can offer you all a nice stewed lard,” you tell the table utilizing your best lisp, also taught to you by Mr. O’Snaz during waiter lessons.

“That will be fine but we’re not paying for lard,” the man in the head responds.

Since you have no clue what the restaurant’s policy on free food is and because you’d really like to get on with this adventure, you snatch the man’s hat off his head and run back into the kitchen. You don’t have much time before the old man and his companions find you so you look into the hat expecting to gaze into some fantastical world. Instead, all you see is some loose hair, probably left behind by the balding head of its previous owner, who you can hear approaching, fast. It sounds like this:

You put the hat on but instead of it stopping on your head, it envelops your whole body and you disappear. The man enters the kitchen in a huff and is quickly showered in oil and lemon juice as per restaurant code and its hard stance on unwanted kitchen visitors. Where to next? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

Advent Calendar 2014 — December 2

Find out the treat behind December 1 by clicking here!

You step through the odd painting onto what appears to be the soundstage of a television sitcom.


The set looks like the kitchen from a show you used to watch called The Wonderful Dr. Dad and suddenly, the mysterious painting of the man and boy makes sense. It’s the series’ stars, Gary Oldman and little Henry Underwet from the episode where Dr. Dad turns himself into a balloon so he can attend his son’s birthday party without his ex-wife finding out.

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Before you have a chance wrap your head around this new information you get a tap on the shoulder, and turn around to find Gary Oldman himself staring at you.

“I know they don’t like me snacking in between takes but it’s been two hours since my last biscuit and if I don’t feed soon there’s no telling how it’ll effect my character and if my character doesn’t perform then the show doesn’t work and if the show doesn’t work you don’t have a job and if you don’t have a job, well… I’m not sure what you’ll do with the rest of your life but the fact that you’re a fetcher on a poorly rated sitcom can’t mean you have very many useful skills, capiche?”

Stunned, you muster the only words that come to mind:

“Yes Mr. Oldman, I’ll fetch you some dinner.”

To which he replies:

“Darling it’s quarter past two if I ate dinner now I might be inclined to turn into a werewolf. And please, call me Mr. Oldman.”

You’d always heard about the eccentricities of actors and make a mental note to write of this encounter in the comments section of the next blog you read that mentions Gary Oldman.

You’re off the find the actor some food and quickly locate a fridge in a kitchen area used by craft services. Before opening the fridge you take note of the art adorning its facade–mostly notes from the crew joking about stolen plums and a racy picture of Kathy Ireland sucking on an ice cube with “who is this??” scrawled over top by an inquisitive horn dog. Before you have time to provide the answer using a marker you find tucked behind your ear,  something else attracts your attention:


Maybe it’s simply a bit of anti-war propaganda spread by Hollywood liberals who wouldn’t know a front line if it was drawn on the back of their hand with a ruler, but something tells you it’s more than that. You take a deep breath and open the fridge to reveal:

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Impossible! A full, walk-in freezer behind the door of a standard-sized Maytag? You look behind you to see a pissed-off Gary Oldman fast approaching brandishing a knife and fork. You take two deep breaths: one for courage and one to taste the air of network TV one last time and step through the fridge. The adventure continues…